Part One - Sanctuary Lost: Death in the Montana Mountains
Reported by Jerry Finch ~ President/Founder of Habitat for Horses
"Likeness to the 3-Strikes Tragedy is Chilling!"
To look at the website, you'd almost think that these animals found a little piece of heaven, and I'm sure those who sent their animals here believed it also. Beautiful mountains, flowing river, forever views and what now seems like a far too typical caretaker - employees that flat out don't give a damn about animals in pain.
With the same excuse that I heard from Jason Meduna at Three Strikes, the caretaker at MLASR Bryan says that nature should take its course and that animals should die a natural death. Just as Jason did with starvation, Bryan did with the lack of care for the basics
After weeks of legal hassle, Bryan and his wife are gone, the corporation is in shambles and the efforts of a lot of good people are taking aim at removing all kinds of animals from what once promised to be a forever home. The promises now lay broken and shattered, mankind once again caught up in a lie to the animals, animals that have never once lied to us. I arrived up here in the snow covered mountains of Montana this past Tuesday, rented a 4WD car and drove north to the sanctuary. In from of me was the truck of Jane Heath, Montana Horse Sanctuary, a horse person from head to toe. And ahead of her was Phyllis Ruana, cut from the same stuff as Jane.
 The main part of the horses are in a pasture several miles from the actual sanctuary. Although I had heard stories, that’s when the nightmare began. Horses with hooves so long that, in one case, the hoof made a complete circle over itself. The horse was down, snow covering it’s body. There was no more fight left. Another one a hundred yards away with the same problem, splayed hooves so bad that walking seemed impossible. One once beautiful black pony walked in circles, it’s back hip broken, endless circles as he was trying to get to the hay, trying to be touched. Another horse ran across the pasture on three legs, the fourth held up because the hoof looked like a spike. Fences down, wire all over, hay that the toughest steer would reject, all on top of two to three feet of snow.
This was the promised land. This was sanctuary.
 A short time later we pulled up to the actual sanctuary. The grounds are magnificent, the scene of the snow covered mountain, the low hanging clouds, the beautiful buildings all spoke of a perfect place. Then the cover started coming off. Like a fairy tale turning into a horror story, it took a moment to see 600 llamas standing behind a fence in a large pen. Six hundred of them, six hundred faces looking back because there was nothing else to do but stand there and look, and poop and stand in the poop and look some more. Separated by sex, the female llama pen is where the babies drop, lots of them, because the llamas were not gelded (I don’t know if you call it gelding or not with llamas). Most of the babies don’t survive, but they all have the same hay as the horses – which is worthless.
And back there, behind the llama pens, are two camels, large two hump, long haired beautiful camels and while one is up strutting his stuff, the other is down because of - yes, you guessed right - long, untrimmed hooves. He can’t walk. Oh, he tries to stand up, gets a few feet, then goes back to his knees. How long has he been that way? Too long. The one stands over the other, protecting him.
Promises made. “This is a sanctuary. You will be safe. You can live here the rest of your life, secure and happy and…. oh never mind.”
Geese are screaming at me. In a wire mesh pen, unable to get out. Next to them are the chickens. Pot belly pigs. Goats. Sheep.
 And across the road is a herd of cattle, perfect animals. One is standing half way between the fence and the hay pile, long haired, horns circling is face, just staring at me as I stare at him. That’s when I notice his back feet, hooves curled up half a foot off the ground.
Jane and Phyllis already hauled 20 donkeys out of here, took them south of Missoula to a place where vets and farriers cut and trimmed and sedated and probably cried.
Which is what I did on the way back to the hotel. Yeah, it gets to me. The more of this stuff I see you’d think it would get easier, but it doesn’t work that way. It gets harder.
A zillion phone calls, money to raise, transport costs, brand inspections, blood work, farriers, vets… this is going to take awhile. I’m on the phone and sending emails. Patty at GFAS iis doing everything she can. I might be in Montana for a few days longer than I thought. I might be forced to bring some horses home with me. Do we need them? Of course not. Can we fit them in?
It really doesn’t matter. I’m responsible, and I hope you feel responsible, too, because we’re part of this nasty bunch of people called the human race and a promise was made and I can’t ask these animals to forget and forgive. They just don’t seem to understand.
They want love and food and warmth and to be with their friends and to die in peace. That’s what “sanctuary” is suppose to mean.
Promises made…….
Part Two - Update: Death in the Montana Mountains
Moving Forward, Baby Step by Baby Step
 High winds and drifting snow, laid over the top of pure ice. That’s Western Montana in the winter. The mountains, the trees – it all looks so wonderful from the inside of a warm car. The beauty fades away quickly when the car door opens and the first steps are taken, but those first steps are necessary to get the job done. It’s being pretty self centered when those steps aren’t taken and the beings that are living outside don’t have a way to feel warmth or enjoy life.
This is the second week in the adventures of the Montana Large Animal Sanctuary and Rescue, a once fully functioning and, on the surface, paradise for a lot of animals. The curtain fell away, however, and what was hidden wasn’t so pretty after all. I’m here to try to make it right, to find people who are willing to pull together and correct the wrongs. Those folks are here now, more are coming and a real rescue is underway.
With over night temperatures between 5 and 10 degrees and the high tomorrow never getting above 12, I would have to think that the people gathering around the animals are pretty dang devoted. Monday morning the horses start the first leg of their trip, going south about 150 miles. There they will get their feet trimmed, receive great hay, start wearing blankets and learn that humans know how to treat them right. The moving will take two day, the basic rehab will take two weeks, most of that spent learning how to walk without tripping over their long hooves.
Up at the sanctuary, a group of folks will arrive with a dart gun and a mess of trimming tools and medication, there to get the camel back on his feet. Both the camels will be gelded. One more overnight stay and the camels start their short trip to a new home somewhere here in Montana.
As will the bison – hairy beyond belief, I don’t think that forty below would bother them a bit, as long as they have hay.
Thursday the blind horse, the goats and sheep leave.
Monday, the llama experts arrive. I’m hoping for a car load of them because I can honestly say that I know absolutely nothing about llamas, nor does anyone else around here. Little did I realize that there are llama groups, llama associations, llama newsletters and all sorts of llama experts. They are gathering in the distance, filing out adoption papers, lining up transportation and preparing to descend on this herd with open arms. As frustrated as I was a few days ago, I am now believing that these llamas will all be transported to new homes and better lives. The first leave Tuesday. More will be leaving very soon, thanks to the vets who by law must take blood on each one before they can be transported.
Wednesday morning I’m meeting with Deb Greenough (google him), who has volunteered to come with a tilt table and trim the hooves of 31 head of cattle. This act itself almost brought me to tears. These guys look so pathetic and are in so much pain, even compared to me when I’m standing out there in 0 degree weather. Some of those cows have heavy, thick coats, some don’t. How they’ve lasted this long is beyond me.
The pigs, the chicken, the geese – all scheduled to leave.
It isn’t over yet. There is a ton of work to do, more plans to be made, more confusion, but it’s all coming together. The efforts of a lot of people, the money from a lot of pockets and the love of a lot of humans will bring a sense of peace to this herd.
In a few days we’ll have pictures of all the horses that are up for adoption, just like we did at Three Strikes. A little over 20 have already been placed, so around 60 more to go. As a slap to the face of the “Unwanted Horse” folks, these horses will be adopted quickly, proving once again that there are no “unwanted horses.” I know for a fact that there are no unwanted llamas or donkeys (they are all adopted), or cows or sheep or goats or pot belly pigs.
“May this herd be delivered from the hands of those who didn’t care into the hands of hundreds who will love and hold and provide.” It is that prayer that is being answered. It is that miracle for which I am truly grateful.
Part Three - The Cattle Drive
 Back home in South Texas, when the thermometer reaches fifty degrees, the ice, if there ever was any ice, disappears off the roads. Back home at fifty degrees, folks are wearing heavy coats and gloves, shivering before they walk into the mall. Western Montana is different. For two days now, with close to fifty degrees by mid-afternoon, the roads up in the mountains have turned into thick slush ice, the pastures are the same, and every step of man and beast is threatened with the possibility of a major fall, but the people are showing up without coats and in a few cases, in shorts. Things are different up here.
No shorts for the cowboys, though. In rubber boots they worked the cattle, trying to calmly urge them into the pens so they can catch a ride down the road to the corrals, there to have their hooves trimmed, see the vet, get the shots, take the medicine and prepare for the trip to their next "final" home. The cowboys took their time, got a little vocal when the cattle didn't do what they should be doing and stepped back a little when the cattle decided that they would show the cowboys that cows will do whatever the heck they want when they want and no hat waving is going to stop them.
In other words, the cattle are "rank." In cattleman talk that means they simply have little to no respect for people. It's an attitude I well understand. Promised "sanctuary," they were stuck in a pasture with hay and water fifty feet apart. Lot of hay, lots of water, no exercise, no care, no real human contact, nothing to do but eat hay, drink water, sleep and do it all over again - for years on end.
Sadly, the end result is grossly overweight cattle with zero muscle tone and really bad feet. We took care of the feet, thanks to a professional cow farrier with a tilt table hooked on the back of his truck. I won't tell you his comments because people under 40 might read this and don't need to be exposed to that kind of language.
 Its been more than a few years since I've been around cattle. Ask me anything about horses and I could jabber for an hour. That doesn't mean I know what I'm talking about but, like the majority of horse people, I like to think I do. I do talk with my horses though, and sometimes I think they actually listen. So picture me standing in the middle of this mass of cattle, on glazed ice, trying as best I can to express my good intentions. I might as well have been taking prayer beads to the Mosque. Two of them might have paid attention, one a baby and one a Jersey with beautiful eyes. The rest just stared, some with murderous intent.
All of them seriously need weight reduction and better muscle tone, but as far as I know there is a serious shortage of people who want to play Richard Simmons to a herd of disturbed and rank cattle.
There are many that simply won't make it. Except for a couple here in Montana, those who want the cattle don't live close - some in California, some in Virginia, some as far away as Florida. Over the course of the last couple of days I've had conversations with vets, cowboys and haulers. One basic premise underlies the thoughts of all of them - put the cattle on trailers for more than a few miles and they will not survive, and there is nothing more painful than watching a downed cow trying to survive. I didn't know that before. I do now.
Cows aren't like horses and camels aren't like llamas. I get that. What I also get is that each one of us wants to live and for these particular animals, promises were made that they in particular would not be subject to the kind of inhumanity that most animals face. I also know that the promises made were not kept and that there are a whole bunch of people here trying their best to set things right. It isn't the most comfortable situation to be in because some of these animals really don't care to look in your eyes to see if you're a good or bad person.
Which brings us back to the ice covered pasture - standing there watching steers than can't walk and cows that can't get up and once again I find myself wanting someone else to make the decisions. There is no one else. I point, the vet nods and agrees. That's all it takes. That just isn't right, but that's the reality. For some, for far too many, the promise of salvation ends in the cold, wet slush of a forsaken, icebound pasture.
I return to the "sanctuary" and listen to the pigs cry out and watch the llamas watch me and listen to the deep drum of the emus and look over at the camels as they stand next to one another, forever vigilant and protective, and wish it had been different, wish that "sanctuary" meant what is should have meant, but I know that man, being what he is, has a hard time dealing with "dominion," because it means more than being master. It means caring for animals, which the former caretakers didn't do.
And I can't explain it to the animals. I can walk out to the pasture and stand in their midst and listen to their sounds and feel their life, but I'll never explain away the failure and make them believe that we can try and do better. It isn't our words that make their life what has been promised; it is our deeds, and today, as yesterday, those deeds ended in death for those made too crippled and too weak to continue.
If I only had a zillion dollars to do whatever it takes to make things right. I'm certain that all kinds of people would pop up and exclaim that it's a waste of money, that all these animals should be put down because the money could be better spent of all kinds of grand ideas. Perhaps they would like to come explain that to the cow that can no longer stand up, that is shaking because she's down on frozen slush and her body temperature is decreasing by the second and she's looking at you and crying out for help and there's not a thing you can do except look at the vet and watch him nod and hope that death brings peace to those who will see no more sunrises.
This is beautiful country. The snow covered mountains, the tops hidden in clouds, the majestic trees - it's breath taking to stand quietly and look around. Sometimes I'm afraid to stand too quietly in all this magnificant beauty, not because I feel in awe of everything God has made, but because in the silence, I sometimes think I can hear God crying.
Conclusion
Fourteen hours after leaving Missoula, Montana, my plane landed in Houston's Hobby Airport. None of the locals thought the 50 degree weather they were experiencing was warm, but I stood happily outside in shirt sleeves waiting for the shuttle. I doubt that I will ever complain about the cold weather of South Texas again, even on the rare day that it reaches freezing. Walking through frozen pastures at -10 is enough to convince me that the South is a place to call home.
The end of the Montana Large Animal Sanctuary and Rescue is now in sight. I spent the last three weeks doing whatever was necessary to help clear out around 1,200 animals, of which only 120 were equine. It took the efforts of dozens of people working together to reach this point. No one organization tried to claim the ultimate victory by waving their flag. We all did it by each organization playing a role for the animals under their assigned care.
Two days after landing I received an email that brought it all together. A young lady named Alvin, working from the internet and literally a thousand miles away, announce that all the llamas had finally been adopted. Her work and coordination with Karyn of AniMeals, who has stayed on site since before Christmas, found homes for each one of the surviving llamas, over 600 of them. The remaining few will be leaving this week. By January 31st, Karyn, her husband Jeff and Ang, Kayrn's co-worker, will drive off and return to their lives.
A short time ago, Jane Heath of the Montana Horse Sanctuary announced, "Whew! All the horses are now out of Hot Springs and are in a wonderful foster care facility in the Bitterroot Valley." Previous to that, all the donkeys had been removed. Currently the horses are being placed on their website. Phyllis Ruana and her friend Bev of the Montana Animal Care Association, did 99.9% of the work in Hot Spring, rebuilding fences, hauling water, setting out hay and capturing horses that had rather not be touched, all of this in the bitter cold and snow on ice covered ground.
The goats and sheep, plus a couple of blind horses, left the sanctuary grounds. The two camels left a few days ago, thanks to Dave Pauli of HSUS. One camel has a really rotten attitude (the other had to have his feet trimmed so he could walk) and fully enjoyed the screams of panic when he charged after people. I never knew this before, but when camels are upset, they foam at the mouth and growl. That's the indicator to get away from the fence. All things considered, I can guarantee that we won't have any resident camels at HfH.
On Monday the trailer full of pot-belly pigs leave for their new home. Then each day trailers are showing up to remove more camels. The bison leave Tuesday, which is also the day that the three remaining steers and one calf are rounded up and taken to the rehab location a few miles away with the remaining steers and cows.
The world famous cow, Molly B , and her friend, a dew-eyed heifer named "Baby," will obtain sanctuary at another location in Montana this week. Read her story and you'll understand why she's special. I can certainly tell you that her fighting spirit is not lacking in the least.
All the exotic birds are gone, as are the ducks, geese and cavies. Why there were cavies at that place is beyond me.
So the rescue of 1,200 animals is coming to a close. After six weeks of intense work and negotiations, much of it done by Patty of the Global Federation of Animal Sanctuaries, the collapse of the Montana Large Animal Sanctuary and Rescue, once billed as a rescue that is "too large to handle," is drawing to a close.
Jerry Finch
Habitat for Horses, Inc.
P.O. Box 213
Hitchcock, TX 77563
409-935-0277 |
