28.10.2021 UPDATE

The Baletka thanks you for saving her life!

We managed to save her! Thanks to you, Balletka is with us and she is in no danger. Even though the elderly owner had to say goodbye to her, he could do it with peace in his heart – he knew that she was going to a place where she would lead a good, happy life.

There is still a quarantine before Baletka, during which a veterinarian and a blacksmith will visit her. Later she will join the herd of surviving horses. Who knows, maybe the day will come when she finds a wonderful adoptive family?
On behalf of Baletka and the elderly gentleman, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts!


Far, far behind the seventh sea and seventh mountain, beyond the seventh forest … where autumn is raging with golden-brown leaves scattered nonchalantly acroos the plowed fields, and the rain smells like wet needles, damp earth and the promise that something wonderful will happen to you. Where everything is bubling with life, the huts have colorful roofs, and wooden, rounded fences stand and wrap themselves with moss. We come closer and closer, tempted by the wonders of nature that happen only here, in the east of Poland …

Beautiful hut, like a painting! A beautiful old forest and a garden that must have burst with thousands of colors of flowers in the summer. A barn with a large, creaky door. You wouldn’t even think that this is where death is lurking unconfortably often. As the saying goes, it’s darkest under a lantern.

The old man leads us along a winding path. It’s not his business. The barn is managed by his son. He is rarely here. He pays the father to look after the place. He doesn’t know what’s going on here.

We enter the barn, the door seems to be playing a violin, only a little gloomier. The climate of wonder ends here. It smells neither like needles nor a promise. Here you can feel sadness, terror and despair. Such despair which envelops and extinguishes hope, the mother of fools.

She is standing and staring at us. She’s been here for a long time. The old man says she came in the spring. She was skinny. They didn’t know if she would survive. The son brings in, takes away, delivers and generally works magic here. Most of the horses do not reside here long, Baletka seems to be different though. But the son has no sentiments like his father. He is rarely here, so he does not get attached.

The old man heard about us because we once bought a horse from a neighbor. It was a long time ago. But he found us. He feels sorry for the Baletka. It was him who spent many months bringing her back to life. The son does not care where she goes. As long as the bill is correct. So the old father searched until he found us and invited to his place. To a place straight out of a fairy tale that smells like pine needles and scatters leaves in the fields, a fairy tale that will go away with his generation, because young people often have no sentiments. Neither to the village, nor to its magic, nor to the animals that graze in the countryside.

“Her name is Baletka, dear lady,” the old man proudly said, frowning and pacing with his cane around the mare, gently brushing the straw off her back. In his eyes, she is the most beautiful in the world. And for some reason, although he himself is at the end of his time, he has decided to save her life.

We don’t ask him how he feels when the truck comes in every few days and takes more horses. The old man says he doesn’t participate in loading, often too brutal for his eyes and heart. We have the impression that Baletka might not survive this process . “But what can an old man do when no one takes him seriously anymore, neighter the world nor the children?” We look at the gray temples, torn slippers and the sand path along which the hunched silhouette walks in the light rain.

We pet Baletka for a moment. She is staring at us with curiosity, and her eyes reflect all of her passing world. Because horses are said to feel and know. And contrary to our opinion, they understand perfectly well that they have no chances with us, humans. This awareness is perhaps the most disruptive. She looks at us as if she doesn’t know if we’ve come to say goodbye to her or if we’ve come to promise her something she doesn’t believe in. Because once you come to terms with death, it is less terrible, as if it was tamed. After a while Baletka moves away from us, puts her mouth in the hay and takes care of herself. The barn is dark, Baletka and her powerful figure slowly drowns in the dark.

We go out to catch up with the old man. He explains, ashamed, that he would give us a million years to pay it off. But the son decides. And the son thinks Baletka is “ready”. For, her it’s time to go. It’s time for the truck to come. It is time for what breaks the heart of the elderly, when they must stare with tears in their eyes at the golden leaves nonchalantly scattered over the plowed fields – because they are afraid to turn towards the ajar door, where the view of the barn and the fallen gangway can break their hearts.


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Donation Total: $5.00