Now You can adopt Jutrzenka and Jeżynek Virtually. Please fill out VIRTUAL ADOPTION FORM. Thank You.
Jutrzenka and Jeżynek thank you for saving their lives!
They are already with us, on our farm, and they aroused a lot of interest among other residents of the asylum. Each new arrival is a new sensation, a new story to tell and an exchange of experiences. Of course, Jutrzenka and Jeżynek still have to go into quarantine, and as soon as the veterinarian decides that there are no contraindications, they will join the herd of other survivors to make new friends and, above all, enjoy life.
On behalf of Jutrzenka and Jeżynek – thank you!
As November ends, things get even gloomier and the world is nostalgic, have you noticed? I arrive in the late afternoon. It is raining for a while, it is cold and somehow cloudy. Exactly 453 km full of reflection. The barn at the edge of the village seems to have been deserted for a long time. Because the trader does not boast about what he is doing here. It’s a quiet business. One horse will come, three will leave. This is no mass production. Oh, a small, backyard barn, where horses are standing for several weeks, waiting for the last transport. One animal will earn more, another less. It’s not important. It is important that something is happening.
The trader is sitting at the entrance, when he sees me, he puts out his cigarette with his boot and inhales cool air. With a kick, he opens a squeaky door for me and orders me not to take too long with pictures. He follows me with a thick rope and herds the horses against the wall. Jutrzenka’s ears are a bit scared, but she won’t let herself do more. The trader does not wait, he pulls out his whip immediately and targets her several times on the legs. Tears come to my eyes as I see Jutrzenka dancing in the air, fear shining in her eyes, those beautiful, large, frightened eyes. It’s a heart that beats a million times a minute now. As if something changed. Nothing will change anything here. I don’t even speak. I can only watch and clench my fists. And pray that today Jutrzenka will leave here with me, that she will make 453 km of the way home with me. She and her little foal that is pressed into her closes his terrified eyes. As if it hoped that when it opens them, the horror around would be gone.
But she’s not leaving. And nothing will disappear. David Coperfield would not help here. You have to pay before You take anything. For a change of scenery too. And it’s salty. Nobody here gives life away for free. It’s not Santa Claus. This place is one step ahead of the slaughterhouse.
“Move, you idiot mare!” yells a man in old black rubber boots, waving his hands and hitting the mare several times on her curled ears. Finally, he approaches her, a thick rope tightening around her head. And her eyes then become huge, as if someone has poured into them all the fear of this world. The hedgehog stiffens all over, and its long, crooked legs begin to shake. Dawn falls out into the air, it’s already gray. The whip whistles without sense, cuts the air again and again, sometimes hits her lousy body. It is not known what for, she is standing still. I guess it’s just in case.
I ask the trader about Jutrzenka. What she was doing, where is she who sold her. But the trader is silent. It doesn’t matter here. Everyone is equal here. Here, no one has a past. And neither the future. You know. Every tomorrow looks the same here. A few horses are collected first. Then the heavy old gangway descends. Then the barn door swings open. And then the convicts follow, one by one. Mares, stallions, mothers with children, ponies and donkeys. They go where they never come back from. Where cold death awaits calmly, because it knows that it will reach everyone. Even the executioners. All are equal there.
I approach Jutrzenka for a moment, I look into her big, hopeful eyes. I stroke the damp, warm nostrils for a while, I listen to her gentle snort, I see how she calms down when there is no man in rubber boots next to her. Probably, if she could speak, she would ask for help, at least for her little foal Jeżynek. After all, she is a mother. But what does it change? Anyway, she can’t talk like that anyway. And until Christmas Eve, when animals are said to speak with a human voice, death will not wait.
Jeżynek cuddles up to mom, hangs its head, closes its black eyes and remains in his world. Because he still believes he’s safe as long as he is next to his mom. The whole world knows. Because the world was never in this barn, on this edge of the village. Because the world did not see Jutrzenka’s enormous, terrified eyes and did not hear the whistle of the whip. Because the world does not walk along the narrow corridor of the slaughterhouse and does not bow its head when the corridor ends. And no one closes his eyes when the knife drops.
Now you know. You know how it is. You can tell the world. You can tell about Jeżynek, who is waiting for you with closed eyes at the end of the world, 453 km from Wrocław. About Jeżynek who still believes in us humans. Because he has not yet experienced what millions like him have experienced.
Before I leave, I watch the silhouette of Jutrzenka blur into the gray of the afternoon as she slowly, humbly treads to her barn, wityh Jeżynek nestling at her side. I don’t know how many more times Jutrzenka will get a whip before I come back for her.
If I do show up … I remember that we only failed once, many years ago. But this time, many years ago, I will remember for the rest of my life.
Please help. I want to drive 453 kilometers again. Without you, I will do this route just to watch the merchant haul the terrified Jutrzenka up the steep ladder of the truck and little Jeżynek following her, full of faith. Because children always follow their mothers …