14 May 2019
gertydelpeche Jan 11, 2017, 5:29 PM to tismail@media24.com
On reading Cara-lee Dorling’s article "Feathers fly after a tree with heron nests is chopped down in Jeffrey's Bay”, it has prompted me to contact News24 in regards to disturbing information about a leading tourist attraction in Jeffery's Bay. In addition, by judging public response to the heron's nests situation, I feel the community may be interested to know what has been happening to horses used for beach rides in Kabeljous.
Everybody knows we are in the grips of a terrible drought, as a result, the winter of 2016 was particularly difficult there was simply was no grazing. Nevertheless, that is no excuse for the condition of that establishment's horses. Near the end of June 2016, a rumor surfaced apparently 20 of their horses eat Poison Berry and were consequently shot. This event was confirmed as fact by many sources, one being the man who pulled the trigger, and while shooting these horses was the humane thing to do, it begs the question why would a horse consume poison in the first place much less 20 of them?
Horses correction well-fed horses are fussy eaters by design ask anyone who has ever tried feeding an ex-racehorse carrots for the first time. Trust me it can take a certain amount of convincing even force before you will have that horse convinced it is "Yummy damn it! Chew ...not spit chew!" . On the other hand, a hungry horse will eat anything from tree bark to Thorny Apple even sand therefore when I hear of a situation like this, which is never really, where 20 horses eat Poison Berry I do not have to ask why they eat it or who should be held accountable.
Towards the end of that year, I received reports of random people finding dead horses on Da Gama Rd people saw a dead mare with her aborted fetus another died after falling in a hole. It was concerning as this happened just as the tourist season was starting and considering the incident in June alarm bells were ringing! I felt it was prudent to contact The Eastern Cape Horse Society, whose response was swift subsequently after the inspector from ECHCU had a word with the owners the horse's in the paddock on Da Gama road improved dramatically.
This was the calm before the storm or merely misdirection as on Saturday the 7th of January 2017 it was brought to my attention that there were several skinny horses hidden in a-flied not visible or even accessible from any public road. I asked for photos whereupon I would yet again contact ECHSU to investigate. On Sunday the horses were nowhere in sight, as a result, by Monday afternoon I drove out to the field in order to access the situation. It was dire, to say the least, the fact that there was the remnant of a bale visible was little consolation, as those horses had not seen food in a while. I am a seasoned equestrian and a qualified Horsemaster now be that as it may, what I saw was shocking yet all I could do was follow protocol take photo's and call the Horse Care Unit. Those were not my horses nor were they on my property if I went into their camp I would be trespassing. At least they had a bale of hay that day and even though I could not see a water point, surely when someone goes to the trouble of rolling in a bale he or she also checks for water it is just common sense. Nevertheless, I made sure to stipulate to the fact that I did not see a water point. I convinced myself that there must be water no one in their right mind would leave 16 horses out in a field without water.
I walked the fence line hoping to put that water issue to rest when I spotted a dark bay lying motionless obviously this bale was too little too late for that poor horse. A skinny gray pony still hovered around his fallen friend. Watching a starving horse stay with his dead companion rather than walking off to eat was incredibly moving, if only I turned around to walk away at that moment I would have been better for it, what was a really bad day was about to become a nightmare.
Have you ever seen a horse too weak to get up yet it keeps trying? Remember the dying horse scene in War Horse it is like that except more real and happening while, on the other side of a fence I could not cross.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, in the time between horses dropping dead on Da Gama road and discovering her horses starving in a hidden field out of public view, the owner did manage to erected a gigantic and costly pink billboard on route to Fountains mall advertising their beach horse rides. You have to agree with me that there is something very wrong here, perhaps Cara-lee would be interested in covering this story.
Regards, Gerty-Anne Delpeche
Sent from my Samsung device. gertydelpeche
gertydelpeche <gertydelpeche@gmail.com style="" data-mce-style=""> Fri, Jan 20, 2017, 9:46 AM to CaraLee.Scheun@24.com</gertydelpeche@gmail.com>
Contacting News24 came merely as an afterthought to exact some measure of justice for the 20 horses that "eat poison" in 2016 also for the ones dropping like flies right there on the main road into town. In addition, I was dealing with a bad case of Lupus at the time and this latest horse holocaust was not helping, however truthfully, what pushed me over the edge was the hideously huge pink billboard, she spent money on while her horses were suffering. Seriously, that thing was coming down!
Nevertheless my immediate concern was for the horses still standing I did what I thought was best at the time by contacting the same inspector i had in the past as well as the night before in regards to the dying horse i left down in the field. Her response by the way was "I have spoken to the owner they will go shoot the horse in the morning." Which was exactly what I expected from the owner, I knew it would be too inconvenient for them to go out at night in order to shoot a horse that was dying a painful death.
That evening while those people slept all snug in their beds, I was awake feeling quilt ridden for leaving a horse to die alone. By the time the sun came up I was contemplating exactly how traumatizing the day’s events had been.
Believing the situation was taken care of when I raised the alarm hence I was not overly concerned when told it would not be necessary for me to take the inspector to the horses. I believe her words were "Maybe later this week." In hindsight alarm bells should have been ringing nevertheless I went back to check on the state of affairs because that is just the natural thing to do.
Low and behold, there was a fresh bale of Lucerne and the dead horse was buried above ground but at least an attempt at burial was made. See now here is where I went wrong because in my mind if a horse owner does all that then they would also have checked for water. After all, these were not first time novice horse owners these people run a trail riding business making money off the backs of horses a fact which made me particularly sour at that time as a result I aimed for that pink billboard. That same afternoon I composed and sent the above-mentioned email thereafter I lay down not getting back up until 9 days later.
Next blog post- Where things went from bad to worst and how the SPCA got involved-
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From bad to worse
In Memory of Dolf and the horse he rode: 2019-07-05 09:46 PM
20 January 2017
Finally some relief from the clutches of a lupus headache I had spent a total of nine days on the couch with my head in a bucket of ice. At the time, I had no idea as to what was wrong with me. I simply knew I was in trouble, the kind of trouble that if Shirley Green saw a horse in my condition she would have it put down and frankly, she would not have been wrong. Anyway me being who I am as soon as I could stand I went to ride, to be clear just for fun I would hop on the Levine's baby horse. I had retired already what with dying and all nevertheless one does not quit horses cold turkey besides I am no quitter consequently I was hanging on for dear life but clearly not my own.
Saturday 21 January 2017
Enter Oom (loosely translates to Uncle) Dolf who happened to be an old school horsemen he held his own in the horse community. Dolf could easily have been Denton Sander or George Myburg or even Mickey Louw had I met him when he was younger. Actually if Dolf met either Denton or George considering they, were young round about the same time Dolf could easily have been a Derby winner. Notwithstanding Oom Dolf was well over 70 still riding his saddler alone into the blue yonder and that is a quality I respect in an Oom.
After some time spent working with horses, a skill you pick up is recognizing "The look of dread." Veterinarians are great at delivering "The look" in fact I believe "The look" is a subject taught to vet students at Onderstepoort. After enough time in the Equine industry "the look" is what one expects from a vet nevertheless not what one wants to see however par for the cause. On the other hand, there is something fundamentally scarier about "the look" when seen on the face of an old school horsemen. When “the look” approaches, it is in conjunction with “the walk” which is a subtle mix of cowboy and pirate. It is the kind of walk you would expect from John Wayne but while walking the plank so there is a definite sense of finality to it. With that, Oom Dolf approached to talk about what he had seen on his morning ride.
Death rides a pale horse and on this occasion straight through me sending shivers down my spine. I did not require any words to understand the gravity of the situation here was a man walking the walk. Death's horse kicked up gravel, leaving me to choke on their dust.
Bypassing several steps one being concerned, next would normally be distraught and since these were steps, I completed on the ninth when I first contacted the "Eastern Cape Horsecare Unit" it left me arriving at outright panic. It must have been obvious as my attempts to ride out to the field was met with "Absolutely bloody not, not on my horse not in my Bakkie and under no circumstances will it happen at this time on a Saturday afternoon!" I am extremely grateful for being spared the outcome had I gone into that field that evening. Instead, I went home and I cried subsequently giving me time to think.
I wrote a long text message to the inspector at the ECHC updating her on the level of neglect I expect to find in the morning and again asking for assistance. Then I called a friend who worked for a local veterinary clinic. Her very sound advice was to contact the SPCA, she said they are the only institution with the power to take legal action against the owner. Legal action had not crossed my mind how absurd animal cruelty cases go nowhere it is a waste of time especially in South Africa everyone knows that. Still I had not received a response to my earlier message I guess it was that inspectors weekend off or an act of God, who knows?
All I knew was I was in the deep end and I could not face what was coming alone anymore. Originally I did not want to include the local horse community for fear of retribution honestly, these people starved their own horses, ask yourself what they would do to someone else's horse in anger. I did not want that on my hands my concern was real enough to prompt me to give my last horse away in December, when I first complained about the dead horses on Da Gama road. As a result, this left me foot loose and horse free in January, therefore free from possible retribution, and prepared to take the heat for reporting the current atrocity. Nevertheless, on Sunday morning, there was an army of concerned horse owners waiting to accompany me and I extend my eternal gratitude to all of them.
In preparation I called the Humansdorp Assegai SPCA at 6.30 am on Sunday the 22de of January 2017. Desmond who I knew personally from that nasty episode involving Rapture (wait for it, It was a different sort of nightmare altogether) answered the call. Confirming that Benjamin would be out there ASAP and that we were to wait until such time before we took any form of action. Meaning, no villagers with pitchforks and torch's! Easier said than done.
[i] Talking to Dolf I gathered that he contacted the owner on 8 January 2017 which intern explained the bale of teff I saw on the 9th what was clear to both Dolf and me was between the 10th and the 21st things had gone from bad to worse.
Nightmare on Elm Street
26/08/2019
fence/fɛns/noun
1.a barrier, railing, or other upright structure, typically of wood or wire, enclosing an area of ground to prevent or control access or escape.
The grass is not always greener on the other side of the fence. On this day, the other side of the fence may as well have been a parallel universe. Things looked bleak from where I was standing earlier that day, or even earlier that month, but now on crossing the fence bleak became black.
Years ago while working for Shirley Green it astounded me how she could pick the one horse out of ninety with a temperature. She would be miles away merely observing the horses grazing when she would say "Ginny, that being me, fetch "So and So" take a temperature on that horse" and what do you know it would have one. This is an acquired skill in much the same way the Tibetan Monks acquire enlightenment equestrians acquire a feel. Given time, if you should hone that feel eventually you can feel everything.
On 9 January 2017, I counted 16 horses yet on the morning of Sunday 22 January there was only 13 horses visible. As I was, already at a point of panic, there seemed nowhere to go except flat panic and opted to wait for the SPCA to arrive before I hit that. I updated Benjamin all through that day and again on route to the paddock as to what he should expect to find nevertheless he was taken aback by the shocking condition of those horses. Looking at his face all I could say was, “I told you, it looks bleak”.
Wasting no more time, we climbed through the fence setting off in different directions. There were three horses unaccounted for I was dreading the possibility that they could be down somewhere in distress. The paddock turned out to be far larger than I initially anticipated hence I broke into a trot in order to crisis crossing the paddock while the rest of the group followed Benjamin up the fence line in search of a water point.
Running is not my thing I only run when there is danger behind me and sometimes not even then as a result at random intervals I would stop and stand. During one such interval I realized that I was standing in a bone-dry dam and it occurred to me how different things would have been had it rained. Making my way to higher ground, I followed the fence for some distance before heading back to where the horses were standing, as I did not discover anything noteworthy other than a borehole outlet which is more illuminating than noteworthy.
Breaking the mid-afternoon silence was a call to assist instinctively I knew this would be bad, that was when I hit flat panic, thinking they found a horse in trouble, as a result I was running again cursing my choice of footwear as well as my career choices and calling into question the decision to move here altogether. Just then I tripped nearly going down like a ton of bricks, although regaining balance at the last moment, pulling myself together which was when I stopped dead in my tracks thinking “Wait what the hell was that?” Turns out what I tripped over was the skeletal remains of a horse a complete set there was something you do not see everyday and a few yards ahead there lay the skeletal remains of yet another horse. They were both facing the same direction and lay as they fell just off the beaten path. My head was spinning but here lay two of the three missing and at least these were dead not dying as I feared I was relieved to hear the third; was discovered more recently deceased moments before, explaining the cry for help.
This was not a good day with my feet literally in a dead horse staring at the 13 holocaust horses still standing I have to rate it right up there with my husband’s suicide therefore when I heard Benjamin say, “These horses died on their way to the water” what I heard was these horses died on my watch. Incidentally, the only water source was trickle-based depending on the overflow from a water tank on the adjacent property, which would have been inadequate in summer even if South Africa was not in the grips of the worst drought in 30 years. These horses died of thrust on their way to the water ask yourself what kind of person allows that to happen. What kind of person spends money on advertising when hidden in a field their horses have no food to speak of and only trickle base water?
The mistake I made was underestimating the human capacity for cruelty as well as being a trusting fool it did not work out well for me. I should have questioned the ludicrous response I originally received from the ECHC inspector. I should have trespassed to check for water. I should never have left that poor horse to die alone on the ninth if the owner did not have enough humanity in them to go and shoot, their horse then I should have done the humane thing. Still, I did what I thought was right at the time.
That evening we drove out liters of water filling anything capable of holding liquid from cooler boxes to 2 L cool drink bottles and what was possibly a hubcap again just doing what we could in the dark with what we had available. To paraphrase Jim Morrison "It was a day of tragic sadness and disbelieve" Meanwhile I distinctly recall resentfully thinking “This is why I sold my horses so my faulty immune system and I can be driving out water for perfectly healthy individuals dying horses. ” Irony I have never been a fan.
The Walking Dead
05/11/19 12.22 AM
We opened a can of worms, ironically that saying has never had a more literal meaning than in this instance. The SPCA was upfront and clear about their intention to legally confiscate all 13 emaciated horses. However, doing so would require a court order which would understandably take a few days' to obtain.
In light of the delay and seeing as how I was not making the same mistake by assuming "There must be water" apparently not all people consider water essential to sustain life. As a result, I volunteered to take care of that problem. Having to physically do this enraged me nonetheless, knowing the truth about occurrences ongoing since the winter of 2016, filled me with white-hot fury.
On account of my rage, I had been conversing with a reporter from News24. Originally I merely wanted to voice my outrage about the massive pink billboard erected near Fountains Mall. Besides being illegal, it cost a pretty penny to erect. Which brings me to the outrageous part, these people choose to advertise beach rides all the while knowing their horses desperately required food!
To make matters worse at that time Jefferys Bay was up in arms on account of a tree getting axed in town. Chopping down a tree is a no, no! The fact that the tree was full of baby birds caused an animal welfare outcry. The community, set up a trust to care for the recently evicted babies, which left me conflicted, to say the least.
If one newspaper article could evoke such a response about birds, in my mind it would cause a revolt about Elm Street. Though the current situation rendered the article futile, bar for some measure of retribution, Benjamin went on to explain, it may have legal ramifications as well. Reluctantly, I agreed to abandon my campaign to publicly name and shame the establishment as Benjamin wholeheartedly assured me the case would have its day in court.
A quiet storm brewed while we waited for the wheels of justice to turn. There would be a lot of that in the future, waiting for justice, it would at times become crystal clear this world is an unjust place. Anyhow. for the moment, there was a more pressing problem in that "water is key". Seeing as it was not about to rain ever again I set about supplying water daily.
Wednesday the 25th of January 2017 was much like the previous two days except by the time I arrived at the paddock there were some new faces in the gathering crowd. It seemed, to no real surprise, despite our gag order word got out. Which in retrospect explained the appearance of a round bale of Lucerne on Tuesday. Now should you be thinking "Surely not! Everyone knows feeding ad-lib Lucerne to starving horses is inviting trouble" you would be spot on. Yet without a court order, there was nothing to do but wait for the colic that would inevitably be coming and come it did.
During the span of my career, I handled all types of colic in all varying grades of severity. When required, I sat on heads once being rolled right out of my boots in the process. There were occurrences where I stayed awake for days on end and must have walked a hundred miles to pull a horse through colic. I unintentionally knocked a pony out cold at a show. It is conceivable that I may have panicked, we were at a show, as a result giving her a smidgen more sedative than I normally would have. Causing the pony to take a very visible nap in the parking lot, there was me holding the lead rein as if she was going somewhere, tray awkward. Regardless, she was fine when she woke up. Bob's your uncle problem solved. Some colic situations require more effort than others bar twisted gut where there is nothing to do, even if there was you certainly could not do it from here.
By the middle of that week or even that month, I had seen my share of suffering. Horses, as a rule, are not the best at coping with pain and by Wednesday afternoon, neither was I. Earlier that day I received word about horses being surrendered to the ECHU (Eastern Cape Horse Care Unit). Instantly enraging me once more, where was this on the 9th? Naturally, two of those horses were ones I regarded as "special" yes, I certainly know how to pick them. It was not a good day, the total of dead horses for 2017 rose to seven, alarming since it was still January.
Presently there lay an emaciated Friesian type foal on some leftover Lucerne with her mouth open and her rectum protruding out. From the onset, I knew the situation would end in tragedy. So help me God, if only I owned a gun I would have ended it myself. My kingdom for a gun hell my kingdom for a veterinarian on the other hand by the goings-on we had evidently passed the point where a vet would be helpful unless of course that vet also brought a gun.
Inspecting that poor foal while in such distress a realization hit me, I could take no more of this. Which left me panic-stricken and pondering an exit strategy, at the same time something stirred in the crowd. It appeared as though someone picked up the torch in reality what she did was pick up the phone but the metaphor felt appropriate, calling the owner. With the tone of someone who was not asking but commanding the owner comes to face the music. Impressive I thought still the response caused blood to drain out my ears "Okay" she said, "I will come, but I am finishing my dinner first." At which point I had an embolism conveniently taking care of my exit, stage left.
I thought there was something fundamentally evil about having dinner first before going to see your starving horses. On the other hand, there had been so much evil around, it was becoming rather difficult to tell the difference. For example, even the physical address Elm Street speaks to an unfortunate coincidence or a cosmic neon sign flashing "EVIL".
I digress, regardless, of the following being hearsay, I have it on good authority to be the fact-based truth. Eventually and against the odds the owner arrived, to call a veterinarian she did so under duress. Nevertheless, credit to him as he managed to save the filly. With shock and awe, my last colic experience turned out to be nothing short of a miracle incidentally also a good name for a horse Miracle.
Thursday morning arrived except it did so by a court order. Then there were nine, the thought of catching, loading and offloading nine horses made me throw up and curl into a ball on the bathroom floor. Point of fact, where would you go with nine tick ridden, worm-infested bags of bones? Where would you find grazing in the Eastern Cape? Even when the country is not in the grips of drought, it is virtually impossible to graze anything that does not qualify as a cow in dairy territory.
Disregard that for a moment to consider the work and staggering costs involved when rescuing a horse, one as in singular, for nine the realistic outcome is bleak at best. As is the case with most hoarder situations where it more often than not ends badly for the cats, I knew what the outcome would be and I could take no more, enough was enough. Some would contend simply coping with Lupus would have frankly been enough, no not for me. Very recently I had to choose horses or life; since the answer could not be yes please survival prevailed. Technically, I was still in anguish over my decision, when I found myself knee-deep in this nightmare. On the upside, I was no longer grieving for myself, instead, I had new concerns about humanity and what we have lost on a grand scale, the universe, certainly has a sense of humor.
I checked on the logistics of the operation from the comfort of my bathroom floor inquiring as to who would be loading and towing. As to where, well, that made no matter to me as long as they were no longer where I found them. I told myself I did everything I could, what more could anyone have done? Still, the smell of death hung around for days. Those loyal ponies by their dying companion side haunted me. I would struggle with a guilty conscience for the longest time going forward. Of course, for guilt to be a problem one needs to have a conscience this both comforts and terrifies me.