Personal Info

Donation Total: $5.00

Your contribution is doubled.
Matching funds from Pledges for first 10k USD.
(US donors enjoy tax break)


Update 12/01/2022
You saved Gulliver!
And on his behalf we bow down to you. If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have had the slightest chance, he wouldn’t be with us today, completely safe, though still scared. We will certainly convince him, however, that there is nothing to be afraid of and who knows? Maybe a day will come when he will find his friend in a human? Or maybe he will appreciate the company of other horses above all else. Most importantly, thanks to you, he has this choice. Thank you for giving him a chance!

His Story:

Gulliver. His big dark eyes. His terrified gaze and rapid breathing. His story, a story of millions. For him, it is the greatest tragedy of life, for everyone else it is something that happened to someone else. He was born to serve man. And when his best years were over, you got rid of him like unnecessary old ballast.

We drive up a snow-covered forest path in the morning. All around there are only forests and vast fields where the wind is blowing. Around not a living soul, only a small yard and a few farm buildings. We are greeted by an older man, in a thick jacket and a stick in his hands. “The lady will follow me, you have to watch out for this lame, because it bites you, I don’t know why you do such a thing, why You want him..” I open the creaky wooden door of the last barn. I pass the concrete threshold and climb the threshing floor. At the far back, against the wall, Gulliver stands, staring at me with longing eyes. Or maybe it’s just an impression .. Maybe not even at me, or whoever takes him away from here.

The space of the barn blows with emptiness. Empty stands, empty chains, sadly hanging ropes. A dozen or so horses stood here a moment ago, two days ago they left this place. Where to, you know. It is known that they will not come back. Neither here nor anywhere. He stayed, because there was a client who gave more than a slaughterhouse. But the client came, looked around, grimaced and drove elsewhere.

And he stayed again. With his story, with his sentence. A judgment attributed to being a horse. In addition, born in the countryside. And such horses do not make a sensation in private stables. Gulliver was dragging something there, so rural. He was trained with a whip, and at the sight of a whip his eyes get much bigger and his legs buckle. That’s why, as a trader explains, he has a wooden pole. To strike by surprise when Gulliver attacked.

I walk cautiously closer. I look into the eyes they fear more than I do. Gulliver retreats back into complete darkness. The merchant quickly sets him upright. He grabs the rope, wraps his head and leads him outside. Gulliver rushes out into the yard as if he did not know the wind or the sun. Dazed for a moment, he shifts in place, but when the merchant uses the pole to throw a few strokes at his rump, he freezes. Tears come to my eyes. But I know that if I answer, the trader will throw me out the gate. And without Gulliver. I’ll have to leave him here. And I will probably never be able to come back for him again. So I take a few photos quickly. And I’m leaving.