(January 12, 2012: Airville, PA) – This is a story about a horse named “Scribbles” and one family whom I would have never met if it were not for a once in a lifetime chain of events that unfolded before my eyes. A few short weeks ago I was at a horse meat sale, the same sale I have attended for many years. Oftentimes I look at all the horses who stand there ever so patiently for the most part and I wonder what their story is. This day was like every other day I visit the sale with so many horses jam-packed into kill pens. I happened to stay a little later this day than usual, and as I was walking past one of the kill pens for the last time I looked in and looked down, what I saw was scary to say the least. A horse was bleeding very badly from a leg injury, at this point I couldn’t see how bad until I asked another person to help me get her out. When we pulled her out it was obvious she had been severely injured. We looked around for some kind of help none could be found. After what seemed a very long time phone calls were made to the kill buyers to see which one owned her and a vet was called. I must tell you for a horse this injured she was amazing. As the blood was running like a faucet she just stood there, ground tied with blooding pouring out of the wound, while she allowed me to apply direct pressure to her hind leg. I could not get it under control with what I had so I saw a coat hanging nearby and grabbed it (I’m sure the person who owned it was none too happy). Once again I applied direct pressure; blood continued to soak through. I thought she would bleed to death before help would arrive. Finally a vet did show up. He looked at it and said an artery had been hit; apparently there was fighting taking place among the horses in the kill pen. This happens all too often when you put 40+ horses who don’t know each other in a pen.

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