Have you ever thought about how much money changes hands in the horse meat market? Maybe you never had a reason to find out. Maybe you never wanted to think about it. It's real, but if it's not affecting you, maybe you don't let your mind dwell on it too much. I was that way. I still don't want to get into the gritty details of it, but owning horses for as long as we have, you don't have much choice. You have to think about it. It's one of those horrible things that exists in our world; some say it's necessary, but it could be reformed.
There's an old saying that goes something like this: "You get what you pay for." I heard it all the time when I went to auctions to buy my horses. Friends, enemies, friemies, and a few others in my circle would go out and buy their pure-bred horses, pay gynormous amounts of money so they could brag to all of us about how much they spent; all the while making fun of us (me) for picking up a good gelding for $800 at a local auction. I can honestly tell you that the best two horses I've ever owned were either free or really cheap.
Bedtime Hero, a registered American Quarter Horse, was 25 years old when he became mine. He was given to me. Norman, a registered American Mustang, cost me $25! That's right, nothing really -maybe it went for administrative costs. Neither horse was going to win the Kentucky Derby, but I didn't need them to. I have loved and cherished many horses that I either bought cheaply or accepted when they were thrown away by someone who had no more use for them. I can tell you this, I wasn't the one rescuing them usually - they rescued me.
When I decided to buy a horse from the Bowie Auction yesterday, it didn't even occur to me that the men sitting in the front row were kill buyers. I didn't know. I found out later today when two separate people made it clear to me that if I hadn't continued pushing that bid button when it came time to bid on Wyatt, he would have been on a truck now, heading south to Mexico -- not to be loved; to be eaten. Horse meat is used to feed many zoo animals and domesticated animals around the world. It's eaten by humans too, but most of what comes out of Mexico, I'm told, is redistributed to zoos and sanctuaries for large cats.
I was at my desk when I saw Wyatt. He wasn't named, of course; he was just another bay gelding being run through the gates at Bowie Auction. He was Hip #479; that was how he was known. The auctioneer didn't say much about him; they rarely do when the grade horses come through. He was being ridden, so he had a chance to at least be seen by someone like me who wanted a friend or companion. The buyers in the front row were more concerned with his weight and the meat on his bones; they didn't give a damn that he was stocked up on all four of his legs.
Jesus must have kept Wyatt's legs from my view as well, because if I'm honest, I wouldn't have bid on him if I thought he was injured. I didn't know until today when the lady who is hauling to me told me. She also told me who I had outbid. I outbid the kill buyer by $50. Wyatt is coming home, to my house, to live his best life instead of being slaughtered, and $50 is all that separated that destiny from becoming a reality. Angels do more than protect us - they blind us when we need to be blinded, and they shield us from knowing too much if our decisions could be disastrous for someone - or something else.
Kill buyers have a job to do. It's unfortunate, but it's true. They don't take the old lame broken horses you think they take. The average age of a kill pen horse is seven years old. They need healthy meat; they don't need bones and stretched skin. They get XX per pound - they offer less for a horse than what they'll be paid by the slaughterhouses. It makes sense, and it's a multi-million dollar industry, and it's worldwide. We don't slaughter horses in America. They travel first - to Mexico or Canada -- and once on that truck, it doesn't matter who wants them off, they don't come off until they unload to be killed. (It's the law)
Thank God, and I mean that, thank MY GOD for blinding me when Wyatt came out of that gate. I only saw his face. I saw him walk of course, but the screen wasn't too clear, it was a bit blurry, it was a bit dark. I couldn't see the detail. I watched his head to see if he bobbed - showing pain, he didn't. I watched his head turn as the boy riding him steered him gently. I watched him cross his legs to turn, perfectly. He was a gentleman, and I knew I wanted him. Had I known the man in the front row was a kill buyer, I would have stopped at nothing to get him -- but God was gracious there, too; he was only $1000.
The only reason the kill buyer went $950 was that Hip #479 is about 15.2H and 1100 pounds. They pay about $.70 per pound and are given about $.90 per pound - it wasn't worth it for the man. He was right there in front, and he saw the horse's legs. He knew they were swollen. I didn't know. He stopped bidding at $950 because of it, and I'm sure he drew an easy breath when he realized he was off the hook. He would only have broken even at best with Hip #479, whereas I have a goldmine waiting to come to me!
The sweet woman who is bringing Wyatt to me is keeping him at her house tonight so he can rest. She's giving him medical care and treatment without me even asking. She's hosing him down right now, and keeping him comfortable. He must have been in a trailer for days to get as bad as he was. I know he came out of El Paso, Texas, about 600 or so miles to Bowie to be auctioned off - he was likely auctioned a few times before yesterday to be in such bad shape. You can't let a horse stand in one spot for days on end and not expect him to become thick in the legs or worse.
God bless Dawn, and God bless anyone who has a heart for an animal in need. Like I said, I know there are reasons for kill buyers and slaughterhouses - big cats have to eat, too. But this time, I couldn't save them all. The one I did save will be mine and will help me get a fresh start, too. I had given up having horses due to an injury that left me overweight and stiff. I'm changing -- God's changing me, He's changing Wyatt, and He's doing it all at the same time, in the same place. It goes without saying that you get what you pay for — and I paid for Wyatt! He is MINE!
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