Personal Info

Donation Total: $10.00

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

Updated on 14/02/2022
Thank you for saving Natan!

We are unable to return his mother to Natan, but we can do everything we can to give him a safe, happy future – and it’s all thanks to you! Natan is still a kid, curious about the world and full of willingness to live. He would like to visit the entire farm, however, just like every new inhabitant of our center, he still has to undergo quarantine. However, he will soon be joining the herd of other survivors, and will make amazing friendships over time! Who knows, maybe he will also find his own guardian with whom he will conquer the world? Everything is possible thanks to you!


Little Natan hit the bottom at the very beginning. He is only one year old, and life has taken all perspectives from him right from the start. He came here with his old mother. She left for slaughter the next day. And Nathan was left alone as a finger. Alone in the dark, in a barn with no windows and no view of the world. It doesn’t matter, the world is beyond its reach anyway. For the first few days he looked for his mother’s return. But in the end he realized she would never come back. Though he didn’t understand why. Because horses don’t guess human business.

Horses like little Natan usually don’t even run to the finish line. They have nothing to run for. There is nothing waiting for them there. And nobody. Horses like Natan will never be athletes. The breeding business does not even look at such. Private merchants are watching, yes. But with pity. Even the trader, when he reluctantly let me into the barn, had a strange grimace on his face. “I don’t know why You need such an ugly horse. He should be liquidated immediately after birth because it is a shame to show ”.

I walk in and can’t believe my eyes. The roof is low, everything is overwhelming here. Or rather, it’s some old sheet metal. Natan looks at me with his big, beautiful eyes. It barely fits here, he and his miserable life. The stench of manure and lost hope lingers around. Because in such places nothing is on fire anymore. Even the heart beats quieter, as if it was not sure if it was still worth it.

But it’s not a hotel. You know. It’s just a transshipment station. No luxuries. This is the last stop before the sentence is carried out, before everything that exists is gone with one blow. Here, several horses are gathered and loaded in bulk along the gangplank, as long as they are fast. And off you go. Save fuel and time. The horses pay. But who would look at any horses?

I don’t know where Natan spent his short life. He was standing somewhere. And someone probably had some plans. His hind leg is completely deformed, he is unable to lean on it. The trader says he ran into some kind of agricultural machinery. And yet treatment costs money. So, although his mother was supposed to come here alone, he was loaded with her.

The foal turns nervously because he would like to come, but the amount of lashes he has already gathered has taught him that his place is against the wall when a man enters. So he meekly lowers his head and snorts softly. Only after a few minutes does he raise his ears upright again, with childish curiosity sticking the wet nostrils into my camera. He knows nothing, understands nothing. And I don’t want to explain it to him.

I don’t know why it is so that some come into this world and have everything. Others, in turn, are robbed of all of this at the very beginning. And he tells me to go ahead. Natan dissolves everything in me with his gaze, which hides dreams of wild gallops and endless pastures that he will never know.

It will be over in a moment. Short life. A short death. But I don’t want to tell him that either.

I stroke him over his lovely nostrils that will be ice cold in a few days. I listen for a moment as his heart beats softly. I stare at those big eyes in which the whole foal world and everything that Natan misses is hidden. Because his life will pass him by.

While I’m taking pictures, the trader returns. He is holding a short wooden stick in his hand and is quickly pointing it at Nathan. He immediately flinches and jumps away from me. I can see how much his leg hurts because it bends almost to the ground. Then he shakes, waiting for the impact, his eyes huge and his heart pounding so loudly that I can’t hear the soft snorting anymore. The trader, however, seeing my lens, lowers his arms and impatiently tells me to leave. End of photos. There will be no negotiation either.


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