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Update 10/02/2022
Bagietka is saved!

Bagietka is already with us, and her eyes are shining with hope! You made a miracle, you gave her life, and we will do everything we can to ensure that she can enjoy a blissful, peaceful retirement. The old mare still has to go into quarantine, she will be taken care of by a veterinarian and a blacksmith. We can’t wait for her to join the rest of the surviving ponies, to feel the first breath of spring, to bask in the warm rays of the sun. Thank you once again on her behalf!


Her Story:
Little Bagietka looks sadly into the lens and lowers her little head to the ground, as if our presence no longer mattered to her. It is such a sadness in which the last flames of hope die out and the conviction that nothing will help anymore bursts in. There will be no miracle, you will not wake up from your sleep. What life had to offer you has run out. Next, only January nights, cloudy days, a bit of winter snow. Until they come for you, grab the rope, pull you along. Over the great threshold, because in this world for ponies everything is huge. Through wooden gates to a steep gangway. They will go on, even if she insists on little hooves. Nobody will hear it. And those who hear will come to help. Help push her to the top of the gangplank and tie her up. And before the last time she looks at the ominous sky and the familiar cowshed, the world will disappear behind the gangplank and be silenced by the roar of the engine.

Simply put, Bagietka’s path ends, here and now, in this cowshed where I can see her. Amid the stench of manure and the dark that engulfs everything around. She gave birth to foals, without any objection. The host, the mighty man tugs at the rope, at the end of which stands a terrified little Bagietka and pecks: “You were efficient, oh so efficient! a good mother was like that, but you understand, why should I keep her, if she doesn’t want to give birth anymore, well she is old, but here it bothers me, I need to buy a younger one “. We do not discuss. We know this approach. We stroke Bagietka huddled in the shadow of the man. We give a piece of carrot, which the little one timidly catches with nostrils. As if she wasn’t sure if she had the right to do it. Because before that, she only had the right to give birth, but little Bagietka doesn’t know that she will be charged. Where she goes, nothing matters except how much she weighs. She can look as much as she wants in the eyes of those who take the last blow – they have seen that gaze a thousand times. And just as they never hesitated, this time they would take away her consciousness with one blow. And with one blow, they will lead her to where the old, unnecessary ponies go after death. Wherever it is. She will not be alone there for sure.

Somewhere between the words we hear scraps of Bagietka’s history. Tied to her chain, she lived a modest life in a country barn in a village so remote that she barely touched civilization. No help gets here, and old ponies have no chance of retiring. Newspapers, demonstrations or any organizations do not reach there either. Only death gets there and takes without disguising. Young and healthy, old and sick. Death is not picky. It doesn’t linger for a moment.

I’m taking some photos. Finally, I look at those beautiful, huge eyes that fade away. In the eyes where someone finally poured a sea of sadness. Or maybe that sadness was always there. Because life was what it was. Not special at all, not strewn with roses.

Bagietka is a very old pony. But sparks of hope are lit because it is said that hope is the mother of the fools. But also that it dies last. Before it dies, please help get Bagietka out of there. Take her to hundreds of surviving ponies where she can live her days in peace and dignity.