Photo courtesy HDWallpaper.ws
There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man. ~Winston Churchill
Well, my Sockless Sunday Campaign to save Chihuahua pelts everywhere didn’t take off as I’d hoped. I couldn’t even shake down a couple of my blog followers for donations. Bummer. Let’s see, now. I need a fresh topic. Oh, I know…I’ll tackle horse slaughter.
Horse slaughter has been hotly debated in Oklahoma lately, and last month Governor Mary Fallin signed a bill legalizing horse processing facilities in the state, but banned processing horses for human consumption. Some people object to horse meat because horses are sometimes medicated with drugs that might adversely affect humans, but others object on principle because horses are beautiful and intelligent creatures.
I don’t personally have a problem with people who eat horse meat. People from other cultures eat stranger things. Such as bugs. Or snakes. Or, in some countries, their dogs. Or guinea pigs, as I found in another of my posts which you can read here.
While I don’t plan to dine on horse meat or guinea pigs anytime soon, I would if I got hungry enough. Read the excellent book, Unbroken, by Laura Hillenbrand about the Olympic runner Louis Zamperini. After a few weeks in a life raft in the middle of the ocean, he and his wreck-mates would literally have tried to eat anything. And, don’t even ask what was on the Donner Party‘s supper menu. Gross.
“What’s with these Okies?” somebody’s saying. “First the governor, now this wretched farm woman making a mockery of truly magnificent animals. What does she even know about anything?”
Hey (as hairy Uncle Si from Duck Dynasty would say). I’ve earned an opinion on the horse slaughter question. I’m not a lawyer, a politician, an animal rights activist, or politically correct, but I am Mrs. Grandma Horse Lover and owner out here on the home place where we deal with real life–and end of life–issues every day.
Riding a horse is not a gentle hobby, to be picked up and laid down like a game of Solitaire. It is a grand passion. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Horses have been a grand passion to me all my life. It’s impossible for me to make a mockery of, or hate on, horses. I started riding when I was younger than my granddaughter, Blondie (above), when my dad brought home a quarter horse/welsh cross pony my sisters and I shared. Cocoa was her name. Ever since then, except for a handful of years in my life, I’ve had a horse or two, or five, eating their heads off around the place.
Now that I have established my horse lover bona fides, (or, for those whose Latin is rusty: Evidence of good faith…A sincere statement or evidence of good intentions,) and am only writing a blog post, not a book, I will end for today. But throughout the next few Mondays, I’ll tackle some end of life issues for horses, guinea pigs, and maybe even grampa and gramma. Because even though the subject isn’t pleasant, some might want to understand why the horse slaughter debate is such a big deal–even for Mrs. Grandma Horse Lover–and why I deeply appreciate our governor and legislators legalizing horse processing facilities in the state.
God Bless all y’all until next time.