America’s wild mustangs are part of our historical heritage and they are our responsibility to protect and preserve. The government’s current purposed horse round up in Northern California and sale of them is not an acceptable way to manage or preserve the animals now roaming freely inside the Modoc National Forest. The U.S. Forest Service purposes to round up hundreds of animals and make them available for adoption over a 30 day period. All those 10 years and older are to be sold without limitations at $1.00 each. This would allow kill buyers to purchase truckloads of horses. We must protect our wild horses and develop a more humane program for herd management. Sending hundreds of healthy horses to slaughter is not the solution!
You can help save the horses by supporting your choice of a wild horse sanctuary and writing or emailing your government representatives to bring the plight of the mustangs to their attention. Act now!
Let your voice be heard. Our wild mustangs need our help. The U.S. government and Bureau of Land Management’s new proposals and regulations for our wild mustangs are not acceptable. Wild horse round ups by helicopter, herding terrified animals for miles and miles to be held captive in abominable, cramped holding facilities is inhumane and not a viable solution to wild horse management. The BLM must fairly allocate range resources to ensure all wildlife, including our wild horses, have a fair share of the forage on our public lands. And a fertility control program must be implemented to humanely and effectively manage our wild horse herd populations.
Our wild horses need us to save them from any government plan to euthanize or send them to slaughter. The American Mustang is a part of our historical heritage and we must see that they are preserved. These horses belong to all of us. They are true national treasures and the responsibility of all of us to protect.
Marilyn and me. Yes, ours is a real love story. I didn’t have a name back then. I was on Death Row and simply called number 278 when Marilyn Holdsworth saved my life. No. It’s not what you think; Not some forbidden jailbird romance. You see, I’m a dog, the four legged kind. And here’s how it happened. I was a stray picked up by the Humane Society. They found me one stormy day starving, soaking wet and shivering cold hiding in a trash strewn alley. They loaded me in their rescue van and rushed me to the shelter for emergency veterinary care. But even after their staff doctor’s treatments, a warm bath and food, I wasn’t a very likely candidate for adoption. In fact, my chances of finding a forever home dwindled daily. Nobody wanted a skinny, scared three year old mutt, too frightened to even bark. I stayed huddled in the back of my cage, most days refusing to eat or come out. I knew my time was almost up and had lost all hope.
Then one afternoon a pretty lady walked by my cage and stopped. She looked at me for the longest time. She tried to coax me over to her but I just lay with my head on my paws, watching her warily, remembering all the harsh treatment of the past. Human kindness was not what I had known. And I was afraid. Well, I have to admit, it wasn’t a very promising introduction without even a tail wag from me. But the next day she came back again and the day after that. On the third day I got my courage up to inch out on my belly, creeping closer until finally I was sitting right in front of her. She stooped down and gave me a big happy smile. “Well, hello there. Did you decide to come meet me after all?” she laughed. “What a shy one you are. Looks to me like all you need is some tender loving care. I’ll bet with a little love and good food you’ll be a beautiful doggie. What do you say we give it a try? You and me? I’m game if you are!” Her warm laughter wrapped around me like a cozy blanket. I pricked my ears to catch her encouraging words and thumped my tail. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she chuckled. And that’s how it all began for Marilyn and me.
I went home with Marilyn that day and my new life began. And what a joyful, playful, loving life it has turned out to be. A grand big yard to romp in, special tasty dog treats and wonderful walks together sometimes even on the beach. And I have a name now. She calls me Ginger, that’s short for Gingerbread Dog. She says I’m the color of freshly baked gingerbread and just as sweet. I don’t know about that but I’ll take her word for it! What I do know is that when she calls “Ginger”! I’ll come running. Eager to go, happy to stay. It really doesn’t matter as long as we’re together. Marilyn and me.