That Day I Changed My Mind

So I did a thing yesterday, peeps. I’d been wanting to do it for a while, but even as a vegan, I was kind of in two minds about it. I have to admit, I had to figure it out for myself.

I attended an action to protest the use of horses pulling carriages for tourists in Niagara-on-the-lake, Ontario. The reason I was in two minds is because I love horses and horse-back riding. I always have, even as a child. I always wanted to own a horse so I could leap nimbly onto his back, lean into his strength and ride, swiftly and smoothly, across fields and meadows. I wanted to fly over country fences, turn corners perfectly on the inside leg, feel the majesty beneath me, and bond with a beautiful animal spirit in the process.

Yeah I watched a lot of Disney.

I was in two minds because I watched a family member battle a grievous disease by taking horseback riding lessons, which helped strengthen her, calm her, and heal her simply by being able to connect with the lovely soul of a training horse; by learning how to care for it as well as ride it, she grew stronger and more capable to handle tasks elsewhere.

Obviously, I had a deep respect as well as love for these amazing creatures. So why would I want to abolish horse-carriage rides, remove the opportunity for others to enjoy and benefit from horses too?

I needed to find out what all the hullabaloo was about.

(NB: I’m now vegan for 3 years, but admittedly at 59, it obviously took most of my life to get there, despite the fact that I am and always have been an animal lover. I don’t really know why it took so long, but all this means is that I do not have the right to judge someone else for being slow to awaken, even though I often do. #sorrynotsorry see that post here.)

We did some marching, made a lot of noise on a quiet, Sunday afternoon, waved our signs, signaled our thrill when passers-by supported us, and generally took the small, quaint town by storm. Not gonna lie, it was fun.

not sure who took the pic, but this is the group of activists I marched with in NOTL on Sunday, with Adam Stirr in the lead with the megaphone.

People were pissed, man! And I kinda understood why: here they were for a holiday stop after a harrowing spring with covid19 dogging everyone’s heels. All they wanted to do was eat over-priced, overrated meals, shop in over-full stores with over-inflated rents, flash over-used credit cards around, and just generally enjoy a long over-due break from every day life, letting over-worked horses drive their over-weight asses around in over-the-top record heat….wait….what was that?

You heard me.

Ok, so why exactly were they pissed we were there? Because we interrupted their day. We had the unmitigated gaul to bring an injustice into the forefront of their day out. We ripped the air of peace and serenity like a tornado through a spider’s web, and it was not well received by many.

I was able to hear some of the comments, some of them I can actually print here because they are PG rated. Oh who the hell am I kidding? We were told to fuck off; suck a dick; go home; get a job (how does protesting indicate we are unemployed?); get out of THEIR town (who owns NOTL?); and other remarks stated under breath as they snuck by us.

I don’t think they understood, or maybe they’d forgotten, civil disobedience is one of our Charter Rights. Our Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms allows all citizens to gather in public and protest peacefully (yes even vociferously) in an effort to educate the public about issues which some feel need to be addressed and even changed. It is our right – not a privilege – a right to do so on any given day of the week. And it is how women got the vote in 1918 in Canada; it is how desegregation came about in 1954 in the U.S.; it is how changes were made by Martin Luther King, Jr.s March on Washington in 1963 in support of racial equality; it is how the Berlin Wall came down in 1989.

Sorry, NOTL, but we the citizens are allowed to go anywhere in Canada and make noise for issues we feel need to be changed. In this case, it was for the injustices perpetrated on animals in our society: specifically horses.

The horse drawn carriage rides are a commercial nod towards the old days of horse labour in our society and are publicized to reflect the old-fashioned, quaint aura of Old Town in NOTL. Many cities use these types of enterprises for tours, complete with period clothing and vernacular. It’s charming and appealing to be driven around in style, gandering at the architecture and local sights, and makes one feel a little bit better than the mere peons on foot. It’s an ego boost.

But it comes at what cost to the horse? Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, is animals, and horses specifically to this situation, are considered property. A commodity to be used by its owner as needed. They are just another tool to making money: like a computer, a car, or a pen – and as such can be disposed of by its owner as they see fit once they are no longer profitable. Most cities have minimal animal protection guidelines, especially for carriage horses, which are often not enforced due to lack of knowledge. Care for the horses is reliant upon the owner of the company, and with the Ag Gag Bill 156 looming, that will soon be something we can’t monitor. In the case of NOTL, the animals home treatment is not in question. The Sentineal family is well known in the community for their care of horses, but that’s not the issue here, which from the comments I heard Sunday, is what people don’t understand.

How this particular business cares for their horses in not in question. It’s the fact that they are put to work pulling carriages in 30 plus degree heat and below zero temps for up to 9 hours at a time; they pull carriages between erratic and dangerous traffic, breathing in car and truck exhaust, hearing motorcycles gunning their engines, people honking horns, dodging pedestrians blindly crowding cross walks. They have little respite in summer from the broiling Ontario sun and heated tarmac. Many of the horses are slaughter house rescues, which means they were already dumped by some previous owner after their use had finished and may suffer from other health concerns related to that previous industry. This is how the business justifies their actions. They “saved” these horses from the slaughterhouse and gave them a great life pulling fat-assed tourists around in heat and humidity so powerful we put weather warnings out for the general public because it’s so dangerous!

Other cities have, in the last few years, banned horse-drawn carriages and many incidents have been publicized about horses collapsing and dying due to mistreatment, ill health or weather. These cities have switched to electric carriages: a clean, green version of the horse-drawn carriage, not governed by any vague and unenforced welfare guidelines, not affecting any living being negatively, yet just as productive and effective.

So now that I have attended one of these actions, I shall be going back. I mean, my blog is all well and good, but with only a few followers, it’s not going to make any big dent in public education about animal rights. Attending a protest will cause disruption, will cause agitation (that’s why they used to call protesters ‘agitators’ back in Susan B. Anthony’s day). Disruption and agitation is how we catch people’s attention. It’s how we can get people to think, even just a little, about the situation. Just like I did. And maybe, we can help a few others see the truth about horse-drawn carriage rides, animal entertainment exhibits, wild animal incarceration, and factory farming. Maybe we can help them change.

Just like I did.

 

 

 

Backyard Dogs

We’ve all seen them.

A big dog (usually big) chained or tied up to a derelict-looking dog house or tree mid point or way at the end of a backyard 24 hours a day. There is usually an overturned food bowl, a plastic bucket or large container of soiled water, and a large chew toy if the dog is particularly lucky. The ground is worn and dusty around the dog house, no grass anymore. There are often a few sad holes dug into the earth, one is big enough for the dog to lie down in on hot, sun-scorched days.

Fun family pet? I think not…

He or she is usually despondent looking, avidly watching the comings and goings of the family, barking hysterically when they emerge from their home, running back and forth on its chain in hopes someone, anyone, will come over and offer a pat on the head. Sometimes, they bark incessantly to the annoyance of the neighbours. Sometimes they growl and snarl if a stranger catches their eye.

This is the Backyard Dog.

I have always wondered what the point was of owning a dog and keeping it tied up in the backyard.

The usual answer by the philistines who do this is “pertection” (that’s protection…) although how a dog tied to a tree can protect a family from harm is quite a mystery. And if the dog is a barker, how can you tell the warning barks from the bored barks? I mean, if my dog barks at her archenemy, the red squirrel, it sounds exactly the same as the bark she emits when someone comes to the door.

So once upon a time, a couple with 2.4 kids decided their family wasn’t complete and what it needed was a dog. A Mr. Mugs or Lassie to pal around with children, to bring the master his slippers, and keep hearth and home safe from criminals. They let Jr. choose the dog because, well a child knows exactly what type of dog is appropriate for their family. Jr. chose the cutest one that bossed around all the other pups and rough housed everything in sight. They brought him home and holy crap he wasn’t house trained! I’m sure they understood he was just a baby and would have to learn like every other child, and so they went about their days but he never learned! So maybe he was kinda dumb. Well, he is just a dog anyway, right? But then he started biting in appropriately, like when the kids rolled around on the floor with him, it would start off just fun little nips, but as he got bigger, his nips started to hurt and a couple of times punctured the skin. And that might have been whipped out of him eventually, but he was still pooping inside, and he needs fresh air, so it was just as easy to tie him up and let him get fresh air AND poop outside at the same time! Genius! And life got busier, and he got bigger, and playing with him was impossible now because he just jumped all over everyone and bit too hard. The few times they let him off the leash, he’d bolt down the street, with everyone chasing him because he just didn’t listen. They couldn’t take him anywhere anyway because he attacked other dogs when on a leash, and pulled so hard it hurt your arms for days afterwards. And what did he get for all these doggy crimes: a life sentence on a chain.

That’s the typical reality of the Backyard Dog.

He was simply the unfortunate soul who was picked by a family who had no idea what kind of care a dog needed, no understanding of dog “language”, no concept of breeds, behaviours and sizes, and absolutely no desire to learn.

It’s a sad reality in today’s world. What hope is there for the backyard dog when people are still leaving their dogs in hot cars? When cats are allowed to roam unneutered, producing more unwanted, unneutered cats. When coyotes prey on said cats because urban sprawl has reduced their habitat and these cats are easy prey, but suddenly society cares about these cats and starts shooting the coyotes. Do you see the escalation?

Man, when they say everything is interconnected, they were not wrong!

And behind it all is a fundamental ignorance: a lack of understanding that animals are not inferior beings to us. They are not creatures we should have dominion over. We shouldn’t have dominion over anything on this earth. They are lives in their own right, to live equal to and alongside us on this earth. In fact, as humans with the power of “reason”, rather than having dominion over them, we should recognize we have an obligation to protect them and allow them to live their lives as they deserve. We don’t “rule” them. Egads, peeps, we can barely rule ourselves! Why, in our infinite arrogance, do we assume we should be in control of anything here? We are just another animal on this earth, after all.

This is legit. Dogs are bed hogs. 

Sure we have “knowledge” and “reason” and skills like that, which give us an advantage over some animals, but it doesn’t make them less than. And it sure as fuck doesn’t make us better.

We pride ourselves that we live in an advanced society, but we haven’t yet learned to coexist compassionately with anything. We want to dominate, rule and control, not live and let live.

I mean, look what we do with that knowledge? We tie dogs up in our backyards and think that is fine.

It’s not fine. It’s not even remotely ok. We have a lot to learn, but I’m afraid of what it’s going to take to acquire that knowledge.

 

 

 

 

Black Goat Farm and Sanctuary

So this week, I had a date with a black goat.

No, no, I wasn’t delving into the art of black magic or practicing self-sacrifice to a satanic lord. (been there, done that in my last relationship ahaha! I’m laughing here but its really not that funny…see earlier posts)

I signed up for a bi-weekly volunteer work day at Black Goat Farm and Sanctuary, and Thursday was my first day!

Totes the Goat, for whom Black Goat Sanctuary is named. He is in a timeout here because he was bad.

Now I already volunteer for occasional events at my local humane society, and of course I’ve adopted numerous dogs, cats, birds, hamsters, fish and snails over the years. I’ve shared sandwiches with our backyard chicken, and recently even fed baby racoons from a bottle! (awwwwww…let’s all say it together)

But I really just fucking love farm animals. I don’t know why. Cows, goats, sheep, pigs, chickens, ducks, I just love them. Especially cows. They are just so huge and gentle, with the most beautiful eyes and soft, rounded lips, just like my spaniel. They actually kind of make me think of ginormous dogs. I like the fact that we can interact with farm animals because over the millenia they’ve been domesticated so much, and they are so trusting they basically know their lives depend on us. They are so misunderstood and mistreated, I feel a special bond with them and a special desire to take up their cause in particular.

So I am really committed to the demonstrations against factory farming and the inhumane farming practices. Helping out at the Sanctuary was a new experience for me and one which I had been hoping to do for some time. Getting right in there, down and dirty, building barns, slogging manure, birthing babies…..ok well not that but I just wanted to interact with farm animals, ok?!

Of course, the day before my scheduled work day, I was sick with a fever and congestion. Really sick. Unable-to-scrape-myself-off-the-couch sick. Tissue-stuck-up-each-nostril sick. Anyway, I took some Dayquil, made a strong coffee in my travel mug, grabbed the Halls, and drove off anyway, armed with my rubber boots, rain poncho, and trusty phone for pictures. (Oh the pictures!)

These folks are super nice and bought this farmland with the intention to open a much-needed rescue. They operate solely on donations or their hard-earned money at their day jobs, and their mission is to raise awareness as to how livestock is treated in society. They are recently creating a schedule for volunteers to help out with the day-to-day management/work on the farm.

And it’s no small feat, as  I soon found out.

When I first got there, I guess you could say I was like a grinning child: I ran up to all the animals to hug them, “Who is this? Which one is this? OMG LOOK AT THIS ONE?” It was kind of neat because I had them on my Facebook and IG and so I felt like I already knew some of them, but here I was actually petting them! Once I had hugged every single cow, goat, and sheet, and had calmed down a bit, we grabbed our tools: shovels and brooms, and started the arduous job of cleaning out the barn so the floor could be prepped and new hay laid down.

The main barn used to be a chicken warehouse, and was now converted with some large stalls and a huge open space for everyone to play. And play they did.

It was a rainy day, grim and overcast, so first of all, none of them wanted to be outside. They clustered around us as we worked, extremely curious about who we were and what we were doing, playing with each other and bumping against us as we worked. It was not unusual to be sweeping away, feel a bump which nearly took me off my feet, and turn to see Zoey the Heifer peering at me curiously. I had to stop what I was doing multiple times to talk to them and pet them and hug them. That’s when I noticed Zoey’s soft mouth was like my spaniel’s, and then I was like “Omg you’re like my dog, Omg I Love you!” Calvin, the Jersey, at one point decided he wanted to help bring the filled wheelbarrow to be dumped, and turned it over back onto the concrete floor.

Then there was Maple, the crippled goat. In her past situation, she was being raised for meat, her leg was somehow broken there but was never set so it healed all broken up. Then due to her leg not being set properly, she was actually rejected for meat, was just going to be euthanized for no reason. Simply because she was not needed. Black Goat Farm to the rescue! And now, she gallops around on three legs, and plays head-butts with Millie, another goat, as if there was nothing unusual about her at all.

Maple, her leg has actually fused this way due to a break which was never treated properly in her last situation.

Luna is a Heifer, so gentle and quiet, with both eyes missing. In her last situation, she developed some eye issues, but it was not tended to because, well vet bills are expensive and what did she need eyes for anyway? So her painful and uncomfortable condition was left untreated. When Black Goat Farm got her, her eyes needed to be removed in order for her to heal. Today, she is the calmest, quietest girl you could ever see, with no fear of her surroundings, despite having lost her vision.

Luna had both eyes removed at Black Goat Farm because she had severe untreated eye infections from her last situation.

Many of the animals there have similar stories; some were dumped; some, like the pot-bellied “mini” pigs were adopted as pets by uninformed people and eventually surrendered, some were rescued from horrific circumstances, and sadly, some were rescued from deplorable conditions, treated by Black Goat Farm’s vets, and yet didn’t make it.

It’s truly heart breaking to hear the stories of what the beautiful and tender beings have been through; it’s emotionally debilitating to me to know there are thousands out there still experiencing it. Some at factory farms hooked up to milking machines, babies ripped away and tossed into a veal crate; standing butt to jowl in cramped transport trucks with no water or food for days, in extreme heat or cold, as they are carted to their death; some forced to bear litters in small metal crates over and over again with minimal to no veterinarian care because people really love bacon!

When you meet these beings in person, when you’ve watched their silly antics, when you’ve looked into their eyes, you really don’t see any difference between them and the animals we consider “our pets”. Why does society see them this way? Quick answer? Because we have been raised to think of certain animals as “products” not sentient creatures.

Serial killers dehumanize their victims to make it easier to torture and eventually kill them for whatever their nefarious purposes are. Their victims are a means to an end, to satisfy some cruel and evil blood lust, and the way I see it, factory farming is basically the same thing.

There is absolutely no good reason for eating animal flesh and consuming dairy in this day and age, with all the knowledge we have about health and wellness, and all the many plant-based options available now. If you truly want to make a difference in this life, for the environment and for yourself, stop eating meat. I know a whole truckload of living beings who will thank you!

National Animal Rights Day March

It’s my one year “veggie-versary”! Yayyyy me! One year ago August 25 (my daughter’s birthday) I made a commitment to eat plant-based for compassionate and health reasons, and I have loved every minute of it. A whole new world opened up for me!

The world of animal activism.  

I did a lot of research while transitioning from vegetarian to vegan and it only took a few weeks for me to have one of those electric shock moments when I realized the horrific images of animals being slaughtered and abused was the same meat in the stores. That same meat that looks so innocuous and inert was, only days earlier, a living, breathing, sentient creature. An animal capable of feeling love, happiness, sadness, and pain. Like…..holy shit like my dog! My pet! My family! Even my freakin’ betta fish have soul, as I watch them cavort playfully, stalk predatorily, and interact with me for food.

All those years I ate meat, I was eating another living being. The connection was made and it was an abomination. I had been a pseudo-cannibal. Gross. And even worse, cruel.

I typically haven’t a cruel bone in my body; I cried at the Ugly Duckling cartoon, ffs – AS AN ADULT! So this truth hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks, with a couple of boulders thrown in just because.

But what could I do about it?

I became an activist. It started with Facebook: sharing posts about compassion, plant-based eating, and even the dreaded animal abuse articles (not many of those, as I’d rather teach and share with good news and positive energies to show a better way than clobber my friends, whom I love, with blood and guts). Then I joined some groups, Toronto Pig Save,  and I went to some vigils  

I spoke with Earthling Ed and James Aspey at one of these vigils, and was inspired by their messages. I never knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. Well not true: I wanted to be a writer, but there’s no money in that unless you produce a best seller, so in terms of a career, a vocation, a calling, I never really had a goal.

Until now.

At age 58, I am an animal activist and a blogger/writer. There’s no money in that either, but I don’t care now. My kids are grown up; I’m not interested in the rat race of commercialism; I don’t want a lot of stuff, just the necessities. So this is the perfect vocation for me!

So on my veggie-versary, I attended the National Animal Rights March in Toronto, Ontario. I attended with new friends I met on Facebook who were also travelling alone. We met up on the subway and marched along with a thousand other vegans and compassionate people, including children. 

It was an amazing event. It was powerful, gut wrenching, and emotional but so energizing at the same time. There was drumming, an organic pounding I felt deep in my being which gave me strength from somewhere inside; chanting which kept us focussed on why we were there and I knew what I was doing was right and good, as did we all. 

I was inspired by families, parents and children alike, wearing t-shirts and walking with their signs, holding hands in solidarity. Their strength was in their convictions that they are contributing to changing the world and making it better for all living beings. The children may actually see that transpire, although sadly, those of our age may not. 

People on the sidelines waved to us, cheered with us, filmed us, or ignored us. Far more connected with us than didn’t. I could see it in their faces as they stood quietly watching our procession; they read the signs, they looked at our faces, and I could see and feel their thoughts questioning reality. A seed was planted. It will sprout. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it is a strong seed, planted with love and compassion, watered with the tears of slaughtered animals and caring people, so it has no choice but to grow. That is life. That is reality.

I’m back home now, cloistered with my dog, my kittens and my four mean fish, my adventure is over. Hang on – no it’s not over! The abominations of animal slaughter, animal cruelty, factory farming, genetic modifications, animal testing are still taking place.

As the rally chant said: “We are unstoppable; Another world is possible!” 

 

 

 

Changing Lives – Especially Mine!

Last weekend, (May 19, 2018) I had the adventure of my life. I participated in the opening day demonstration against Marineland Canada, and I had an epiphany.

Marineland Canada is an aquarium-based theme park which includes orca shows, dolphins, seals, walruses and various land animals, such as bears, deer etc with some crazy rides thrown in to break the monotony of walking a curvy tarmac path between small, unadorned cages of sadly confined wild animals.

Although the pool is one of the largest for sea mammals, it is very small when compared to the vast waters of an orca’s natural home: the ocean.

Marineland Canada has one of the worst reputations in regards to animal mortality rates, living conditions, and treatment, with Seaworld even taking legal action against them after lending them an orca for breeding purposes which came back in ill health.

As a child, my family often took visiting relatives there as part of the sightseeing program, so I am no stranger to it. I visited it when it was very small and basically had a few sea mammals and some deer, to after they had grown as a theme park, housing numerous species of land animal and birds, to the ocean animals: orcas, dolphins, beluga whales, sea lions, and walruses. I haven’t been there for more than 30 years now, and I stopped referring visiting relatives there for just as long.

I hate Marineland.

I spent the day holding a sign, trying to educate the public about the plight of the ocean-dwelling animals housed in small spaces therein. As I did this and chatted with the like-minded protesters surrounding me, I found myself realizing our animals really don’t have a say in their own lives in this world of ours. They come into this world completely dependent on our whim, and often go out the same way.

Whether in the wild or domestic, they have zero control on where they live, what they eat, whether they get medical care when they are sick, whether they have babies or not, whether the home in which they start off is where they stay forever … or not.

They can’t complain when something is not right; they can’t write letters to the editor or the Prime Minister. They can’t save their money and move elsewhere if things are not to their liking. There isn’t a human resources department for them to lodge a complaint, or a union to stand up for them.

They can’t petition, rally their friends and like minds and demonstrate against indecencies perpetrated against them while protected by the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, like us. They have to trust the humans in their lives will do the right things by them, and they love them whether that is the case or not.

How do their needs get met then? How is change effected for those who can’t speak?

Us.

It is our responsibility to speak for those who can’t speak for themselves. We, as humans, have the virtue of compassion. It’s unique to us, and to us alone.

I hate the fact that these large, beautiful marine creatures are kept confined to what amounts to a fishbowl; I hate the fact walruses, which are typically social animals, are kept alone in cages when not in training; I hate the fact that the bears live in squalor in a cement pit with people tossing marshmallows or garbage in to see their reactions. I hated it as a child, and I hate it now even more.

The original whistleblower, Phil Demers, a one-time trainer and employee of the park, spearheaded the movement and has provided myriad documentation to the deplorable conditions of the animals, as have others.

I learned, this last weekend, that giving voice to our animals is a wonderful thing. All animals, including our domestic pets, depend on us to make the right choices for them, to allow them to fulfill their lives in healthy, compassionate, and happy environments.

Whether its a wild animal being kept in deplorable conditions in captivity, the domestic ‘food’ animals mercilessly abused and eventually killed, or disenfranchised pets who have been dumped, the job of helping these creatures and educating our fellow humans is no small feat. Many don’t want to listen, and many simply do not hear. And that is a very sad thing indeed, because surely in this world of plenty, in this world of education, humanity and political correctness, these lives can’t be overlooked.

On this day of protest, I was doing something which could make a difference to the plight of these wild animals held captive. Maybe our actions will contribute to educating the public about respect for nature and all living creatures – even if it just starts here. As humans, the supposed intelligent species, we have a responsibility to care for our world and all the creatures in it as humanely as possible. (if we don’t, then the meaning of the word ‘humane’ needs to change in the dictionary!)

I know some people believe we have a right to use this world as we see fit to further our needs. That these things were made available to us by ‘God’ or some omnipotent being for our use. I call bullshit!

Whatever your religious affiliation (and I could care less) we are one of many species inhabiting this planet with no more rights than any other, and far more responsibility to behave appropriately to the betterment of our world and all that resides in it.

And I was proud to say I acted on that this weekend, and will continue to act on it in future. I was part of something huge, magnificent, and positive, and I still feel the impact of those energies three days later! I ditched one destructive part of my life and embraced a life-affirming, constructive and powerful element which will benefit not just me but animals all over and maybe even the world at large.

That’s pretty momentous. yay me!

But more importantly – yay them!

Marineland Protest (L to R) Me, Joanne Scott, Bob Scott, Rebecca Reaume, Phil Demers, Jeff Reaume.