Animals Find Quiet Refuge on Cleveland Amory Black Beauty Ranch

May 13, 2009

by Angela Moxley

	The animals at the ranch are—in Cleveland Amory's words—there to be looked after, not looked at.© The HSUS/Riley

As day breaks at the Cleveland Amory Black Beauty Ranch one morning just before the arrival of spring, the rustlings of breakfast time permeate the crisp silence—horses and burros, bison and cattle by the hundreds serenely munching hay and grass in misty fields.

On the bank of a tree-shaded half-moon pond, deer stand at attention or bound through the grass while llamas and emus wander across the hill and ostriches streak by on tiptoe, feathers fanned to the side.

In this haven operated by The HSUS in partnership with The Fund for Animals, the rest of the world fades beyond the fog, leaving no trace of the abuse and exploitation that landed many of these animals on the ranch's 1,250 pristine acres. Here, there's nothing but unbridled freedom and the wide Texas sky.

Greeting the Day

Far away across the open fields, the ranch's earliest riser has been awake in her barn for hours. Babe, an African elephant discarded by a circus when she could no longer perform due to foot and leg injuries, reaches up to a hay-filled net attached to a pulley lovingly constructed by doting keeper Arturo Padron. The contraption enables Babe to stretch her neck and trunk in ways that she would in the wild.

She pulls down a bundle and arranges it in the crook of her trunk, twirling the hose-like appendix with the grace of a ballerina. Soon Padron will give her the first of three daily washes to cleanse and soothe her long-suffering feet.

	Babe receives treatments on a daily basis for the injuries she suffered as a circus elephant.© The HSUS/Riley

Babe's chimpanzee neighbors bear scars from their time in research facilities that no solution can ever wash away. But at Black Beauty, healing is on the animals' own terms, and they have only hours in which to wile away the day. Midge, the perpetual teenager, plops on the grass of the outdoor chimp habitat—arms and legs splayed—reading the activity around him like the morning paper.

Lulu lolls on the sky-walk leading from the chimps' indoor "bedroom." She's sprawled on a bedsheet and sucking on an orange. Kitty, the protector, sits on the grass below, arms wrapped around her and head down but eyes looking out, assuming what ranch workers refer to as the "compacted Kitty" mode. Later, she'll climb up to Lulu, leaning into her as they share a snack.

Not For Display

The sounds and sights of this ranch, the daily lives of its nearly 1,300 residents, and the breathtaking beauty of the broad, lush landscape—all are enough to mesmerize any animal lover. But except for invitation-only open houses held twice a year, Black Beauty Ranch is closed to the public. The only humans the animals usually see are the 13 ranch workers and administrative staff.

The seclusion is intentional: an homage to the animals' sacred privacy. The chimpanzees aren't prompted to make faces to amuse visitors; if they're given toys, it's simply so they can amuse themselves. The horses aren't ridden, and the burros carry no burdens on their backs. If Babe doesn't want to saunter outdoors until high noon, no one is standing by to goad her into the light of day.

This ethic of protection has imbued the ranch since its founding three decades ago, when The Fund for Animals needed a place to house 577 burros airlifted from the Grand Canyon, where they were slated to be shot by the National Park Service.

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Since then, thousands of creatures have passed through its gates, seeking permanent haven from the agriculture industry, research facilities, zoos and other entertainment enterprises, captive shooting operations, government culling programs, and individual acts of abuse.

Though their species and backgrounds vary, they bask in the common security of a place where, as envisioned by the late Fund president and founder Cleveland Amory—author, journalist, and animal protection crusader—the animals are not to be looked at, but looked after.

Black Beauty is their home, and they own this place in all but the legal sense.

"The concept of sanctuary is that it is the animals' place first, rather than a place for people," says Richard Farinato, senior director of animal care centers for The HSUS, which joined forces with The Fund in 2005.

"So, you try to do as much as you can to make it comfortable and appropriate for the animals. And in many cases, people visiting on a regular basis ... like in a zoo situation ... even though the animals get used to it, it is still stressful for them. Everything that is done here, from cage design to diet to cleaning routines to interaction with animals, is based on what the animal needs, not what the people need.

"The staff is there to essentially wait on the animals hand and foot."

Custom Care

	The free-roaming animals at the ranch coexist peacefully.© The HSUS/Riley

Of all the staff who tend to the denizens of Black Beauty, Sheila Ivey may be the most popular waitress. Every morning just after 7, she fills buckets with pellets and tosses them in the back of a pickup truck outfitted with a humming feed hopper and dispenser.

At the ranch kitchen, where Ivey picks up a bucket of syringes, a three-page printout details the food and medicine to be given at each stop, but she leaves it behind. Practice has burned the routine into her mind: Friendly—a ranch icon and possibly the only remaining burro from the original Grand Canyon airlift—and her constant companion Scar get arthritis medicine mixed into their senior equine food.

Omar, a camel who was cast off as a sick baby from the Christmas pageant circuit and was then bottle-raised at the ranch, sometimes eats dirt, so he gets medicine to prevent colic. He also gets companionship from Ivey.

"He'll come up and eat out of my bucket," she says. "He'll even stick his head in the truck. He wants you to pet on him." At almost every one of the 18 stops on her route, she delivers a little extra care for animals with special needs.

Caring for this many creatures comes with a hefty price tag. Every two weeks, the ranch receives 14,000 pounds of grain and more than 4,000 pounds of feed. The primates, elephant, and reptiles consume 650 pounds of produce a week; the hoof stock, 587 tons of hay per year. Last year, Black Beauty spent $295,000 on animal care, including twice-yearly hoof checks, tooth care, vaccinations, and dewormings for the horses.

Another $50,000 or so goes to groundskeeping, including regular fertilization and upkeep of the more than 600 acres of pastures; 150 acres of annual ryes are planted as a cover crop to give animals a winter graze when the perennial grasses fade away.

Free-Range Therapy

	The ranch was founded when Cleveland Amory rescued 329 burros from death. © The HSUS/Riley

More than any other species, Black Beauty belongs to the burros; 329 of them plod the well-worn trails, forming an almost unnoticeable backdrop. They may lack the exotic looks of the horned Barbary sheep and the charisma of the primates, but they still have much to teach their two-legged admirers: stand in any one spot for five minutes, and you're likely to attract an audience of burros who seem to bask in the simple joy of being.

From 1979 to 1984, The Fund rescued more than 2,000 of these gentle donkeys from inhumane deaths at the hands of airborne shooters in the Grand Canyon and in Death Valley National Park in Nevada. Cleveland Amory poured his heart and soul into the effort despite the ridicule of many, says his longtime assistant Marian Probst, who recalls him looking out with pride over the ever-expanding sanctuary.

"They could roam wherever they wanted to, and that's what he wanted to happen—just for them to eat and be free, and roll over, and go drink in the lake," says Probst, now chair of The Fund for Animals and an HSUS board member.

Their Stories

Of the 1,270 animals on the roster, more than 600 rove the open range at Black Beauty, and Edward Palmer knows a little something about almost all of them. In his nine years here, the ranch foreman has personally picked up many of the animals and driven them to the safety of the sanctuary.

One recent morning as he sets out to make his daily rounds, he recalls their stories: two horses came from a now-closed slaughter plant in nearby Kaufman, he says; an activist had seen the pair at an auction and sent money for their rescue. One herd of 65 horses came off the Nevada range.

"You look at the pictures then, it'd be hard for you to imagine it was the same horses," he says. "It was pretty desolate, and they didn't have much to eat."

A group of mares was rescued from a facility where they were kept pregnant and tied in stalls so their urine could be harvested for hormones used in estrogen replacement therapy.

A steer with a lame shoulder was abandoned as a crippled orphan, and a Scottish highland cow from a nearby farmer came with an udder infection so bad the staff had to bottle-raise her calf. "She's getting old, and sometimes in the winter, we have to bring her up to the stable for extra care and feed," Palmer says.

Once at the ranch, the animals stick together in their original bands, form new groups, break off into pairs, or keep to themselves. Often the companionship of others, coupled with a free-roaming lifestyle, is all the medicine needed to heal these broken souls.

Alfred was a bellowing mess when he arrived at Black Beauty Ranch in December 2006 as an 18-month-old steer. His human family had hand-raised him since he was three days old, indulging him often in his favorite snack of Twinkies. But when he kept getting out after Hurricane Rita destroyed the fence in his yard, the family decided they could no longer keep him.

When he arrived at the ranch, it was a chore to get him off the trailer, and he followed his human parents like a dog, seemingly unwilling to say goodbye. After a week of weaning from people, Alfred was turned out on the pasture to learn how to be with his own species. Now, he barely glances at the staff as they call his name and cajole him to come over for a visit; he's just one in a long line of cows and steers walking the land. Alfred has found his place among the herd.

For more about the ranch, including histories of the animals, visit blackbeautyranch.org.

What You Can Do

Operating costs at Black Beauty Ranch—one of four animal care centers run by The Fund for Animals in partnership with The HSUS—totaled about $1.12 million last year, funded mostly by donations.

The charitable organization GreaterGood.org donated some $325,000 that was generated through visits to its animalrescuesite.com website; each time someone clicks on the site (for no cost), the foundation donates ad revenue to the care and feeding of animals at Black Beauty and other sanctuaries.

The ranch also offers an adoption program, where donors can sponsor any of five animals with a monthly donation.

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Angela Moxley is the managing editor of All Animals, The HSUS's award-winning membership magazine.

From the Humane Society's web site: http://www.hsus.org.

Sean Moore: Reformed Fighter Is Now Friend to Pit Bulls

May 22, 2009

By Andy MacAlpine

	This former dogfighter now helps pit bulls as an Anti-Dogfighting Advocate. See photos of Sean Moore and others, posing with their canine pals. ©Jenkins/The HSUS

The streets of Chicago hold many ghosts of Sean Moore's younger days.

The alleys remind him of people gathering to watch dogs tear each other up. The people strolling with their pets stir memories of pit bulls put down because of injuries they had suffered. Young neighbors summon visions of Moore's former self, before he knew there was anything wrong with training his dogs to fight.

The Past Informing The Present

Now 38, Moore has escaped his past. But he makes a point of not forgetting it.

Instead, he has spent the last two years as an anti-dogfighting advocate (ADA) for The HSUS's End Dogfighting program, relying on his inside knowledge of the streets to help transform attitudes among children and young men who are following in his footsteps.

"It's a sad situation what I've done to these animals that haven't really asked to have anything done to them," says Moore, who now owns three pet pit bulls. "[I thought] that's what pit bulls are supposed to do; that's what we were taught."

"I could bring you into the 'hood right now and we could get a 7- or 8- or 9-year-old boy or girl and ask them what these dogs are bred for—and they'll tell you these dogs are meant to fight."

"That's what I'm trying to change in my community."

Winning The Hearts and Minds of Inner-City Youth

As ADAs, Moore and others like him in Chicago and Atlanta are role models in neighborhoods where many children have few people to look up to.

Beyonce never loses her focus on Sean. ©Jenkins/The HSUS

They educate people about the perils of dogfighting and encourage people with pitbulls to attend weekly training classes that teach everything from basic obedience commands to advanced agility.

Watching their pit bulls perform physical feats helps the young men see the animals as friends, not fighters. The life-changing training—combined with unconditional love from the dogs—forges an unbreakable bond.

Moore is keenly aware of the importance of this bond.

Brutal Beginnings

Moore was just 12 years old when he found himself in his first dogfight. His dog "won" that confrontation and earned a reputation in the neighborhood.

That led to more fights in alleys, backyards and garages. Training exercises included putting dogs on treadmills turned to the fastest speed for up to an hour and even using smaller stray dogs as sparring partners.

After seeing hundreds of injured dogs die during a fighting career that spanned nearly 15 years, Moore tired of dogfighting when he was talked into one last fight in 1997 with Butch, whom he had owned for just two years.

"That was my final straw," he says. "Even though my dog won that fight, I still had to put him down because he was severely injured—a puncture hole in his neck, a broken vein that couldn't be healed. That was it for me."

In Memory of Butch

	As best friends, Jigga and Sean have unabashed affection for each other. ©Jenkins/The HSUS

Memories of Butch still haunt Moore during weekly training sessions at the local community center, where he shows pit bull owners how friendly and loyal their dogs can be.

Three of those owners, ranging in age from 12 to 14, have probably seen as much dogfighting as Moore has in their short lives, he says. But for the past year and a half, instead of stealing dogs and fighting them in abandoned houses, the boys and their dogs spend a few hours with Moore every day.

There is no more dogfighting.

"They remind me a lot of myself when I was their age," Moore says. "They were headed down the path I was on with these dogs because no one was showing them all the positives of pit bulls."

"My whole goal is to educate the brothers and sisters that pit bulls are not bred to fight. They need to hear it on a consistent basis every day."

Article from the Humane Society of the United States Web site: hsus.org

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Cats Flood Humane Society but Cedric is Lucky

Published May 17, 2009 11:01 pm - The Blue Earth Nicollet County Humane Society is seeing a upsurge in abandoned cats. In Brown County, it's dogs.

By Robb Murray
Free Press Staff Writer

MANKATO —

Cedric was one of the lucky ones. A black cat with tons of personality, Cedric was adopted by college student Emily Fiske.

This litter of kittens was found somewhere in Mankato and brought to the impound. There are several litters and more to come for the Blue Earth Nicollet County Humane Society. -Photo by John Cross Emily Fiske adopted Cedric recently. She says it’s nice to have someone greet her when she comes home. -Photo by John Cross

He’d been at the animal shelter since he was a kitten. Finally, a week ago, he got a home.

“I live alone,” Fiske said. “It was really nice to have a kitty jump on me after work.”

But like we said, Cedric was one of the lucky ones. The Blue Earth Nicollet County Humane Society is seeing a dramatic upsurge in the number of cats needing shelter. And at this point, there are a lot more Cedrics than there are Emilys.

“We’re overflowing with cats. It’s scary,” said Katherine Nelson of BENCHS. “It seems like this year is worse than others. More people are surrendering cats, more people are not having the money to (get them spayed or neutered). Adoptions are slower this year, too.”

The shelter has five litters of kittens, only two of which are at the shelter now. The others are either too young, and there’s not room for them there, anyway. Beyond that, the shelter has eight pregnant cats in foster care.

As for dogs, Nelson said their numbers remain normal. But over in Brown County, the situation is reversed.

Mike Diercks, of the Brown County Humane Society, said right now their cat numbers are down, but dog numbers are up. The shelter is set up to house nine dogs, but has 11. They’ve had as many as 15.

“We’re finding a lot more strays, too,” Diercks said.

Both Nelson and Diercks say the economy is probably contributing to their respective problems. Because having a dog or cat costs money — food, veterinarian care, replacement of chewed-up shoes, etc. — Nelson said people may be forgoing a spaying or neutering. They also may be surrendering animals, whether it be dropping it off at the shelter or on a gravel road out in the country.

Ken Ambrose, a veterinarian at Minnesota Valley Pet Hospital, said he has not seen fewer cats at the clinic for spaying or neutering.

Even if people were considering not getting their pet fixed, Ambrose said the costs associated with that can be steeper than the $75 to $100 spaying or neutering.

Fixing a pet also makes sense for the pet’s health. In females, spaying “zeroes out” chances of ovarian and uterine cancer. It also eliminates the hassle associated with the female cat being in “heat.” In males, neutering can eliminate irritating male-associated behaviors such as marking and humping, Ambrose said.

“There are already so many homeless cats in the world,” Nelson said. “If we keep having more kittens, we will never find enough homes. A responsible pet owner should have their cat fixed. It will keep the cat from roaming and reduce the chances of being infected by deadly diseases like feline AIDS or feline leukemia.”

Help a sweet dog live a better life

A plea to help Bea from a friend:

Hi Friends,
I believe you have all heard me tell you the tell of Bea - the pit at a no-kill shelter whose been there for 8+ years. (I know this for a fact as I took pictures of her for Petfinder back in 2001/2002 at this shelter.) Stacie Samuels-Forman and myself have found Spirit Santuary where Bea will freedom and love at their cage-free shelter in upstate New York; she'll have friends, live indoors with the other pooches and play all she wants on the acres and acres of grass.

Spirit runs strictly on donations and for dogs like Bea there is a one-time donation request of $3240. This covers some of her life-long care expenses... Stacie and I are raising this money so Bea can get there for the summer and finally romp all over the grass like dogs are meant to - not rot in a cement kennel. Recently a great pittie rescuer went and evaluated her - he said she was in good spirits, no aggression and very excited to have some attention - imagine how she will feel when she gets oodles of attention and has playmates and a bed at Spirit?

I know this is just one and there are plenty of other dogs and other causes but if we don't start with one desperate dog, where do we start? 

Thank you for your help - just $10 will make a world of difference. Please spread far and wide - as I've told Bea "We are coming for you...just hold on!" =)

Donate here there is a 30 day deadline (June 5) If the money isn't raised by then it will be returned to the donors:
http://www.fundable.com/groupactions/groupaction.2009-05-07.1098065548/view?searchterm=bea

A Happy Mother's Day Rescue

	Daisy spent eight years in a puppy mill, leading a life not fit for a dog. ©Riley/The HSUS

by Catherine Hess

My dog was a "puppy mill mama" whose owner essentially threw her away when she got old. I spotted her at an adoption fair and was taken with her gentleness and soulful brown eyes.

Daisy was a depressed little beagle when she came home with me. The loneliness of living in a rabbit hutch for eight years and the stress of endless litters of puppies had crushed her personality, and at first she felt safest in her crate, snoozing the day away.

Puppy Mills Bite

To spare dogs the sadness of puppy mill motherhood, never buy an animal from a pet store.

She seems not to know how to play; a stick or a ball tossed in front of her generates no interest, and squeaky toys terrify her.

The poor girl didn't know how to climb stairs, was very overweight and had a mouth full of rotten teeth. She was hand shy and very foot shy, making me wonder how much of her interactions with people had consisted of whacks and kicks.

Turning A Life Around

Daisy's story gets better the farther she gets from the puppy mill.

Gradually, she takes more interest in life. It helps that she comes to work with me and spends time with people who like dogs. Walks—also known as sniffing expeditions—peeled weight off, and little treats helped her learn skills like jumping into the car and coming when called.

Once in a while, she'll even clamber up to sit in my lap.

Now Daisy loves mornings. She races downstairs with ears a-flopping for her first trip outside, where she frolics around before getting down to business. Bedtime is even better. She knows she'll get a special delicacy when she gets in her crate, so she gallops upstairs and dances around in circles.

Nobody can undo her beginning as a puppy machine, but Daisy's spirit is making a comeback. Doesn't every puppy mill mama deserve as much happiness as she does?

Catherine Hess is a web producer at The Humane Society of the United States.

From hsus.org - the Humane Society of the United States web site.

Humane Society to the rescue after Katrina

HSUS Rescue Totals Louisiana & Mississippi

Confirmed Totals to Date: 2935 Dogs: 1392 Cats: 457 Horses: 121 Other Animals: 965 Updated: September 10, 9:00 a.m.

By Tim Carman

September 10, 4:27 p.m.

Scenes from The HSUS's rescue and sheltering operations in Louisiana reveal the breadth of hurricane relief efforts—and the challenges our teams are facing on the ground.

Dog Miracle From St. Bernard

More than 150 owners have already reunited with their pets by Friday, according to records at the Lamar-Dixon emergency shelter, including 85 cats and 67 dogs. One of those reunions must certainly fall under the miraculous category.

Lisa Saxon from Chalmette, located just east of New Orleans, arrived at Lamar-Dixon on Thursday looking for her missing dog, Rusty. Unfortunately for Saxon, her home is located in St. Bernard Parish, where animal rescue crews are not allowed because of toxic chemical spills in the area.

As Saxon stood there talking to an HSUS staffer explaining the situation, a large stock trailer pulled up in the Lamar-Dixon compound. Police officers in St. Bernard Parish surprised everyone by personally bringing in a load of dogs.

When Saxon turned around to inspect the stopped trailer, "she was nose to nose with her dog," said the HSUS staffer who witnessed the reunion. "We were all crying."

From the Humane Society's web site: www.hsus.org

Nearly 700 Dogs Rescued From Tennesee Puppy Mill

The HSUS/Riley

This puppy was rescued from Pine Bluff Kennels in Tenn.

Nearly 700 dogs have a new lease on life after teams of rescuers under the command of The HSUS arrived to save them from a massive puppy mill operation in Lyles, Tenn.

The removal of the dogs marks the largest puppy mill rescue ever conducted in Tennessee.

The Rescue

The rescue was set into motion by The HSUS' Tennessee state director, who received undercover tips and worked with investigators with the District Attorney's office for the 21st Judicial District to build a case against the puppy mill operator.

Law enforcement personnel from the Hickman County Sheriff's Department, the Tennessee Department of Agriculture, the 21st Judicial District Drug Task Force and the Tennessee Highway Patrol assisted in executing the search warrant.

Nearly 700 dogs are being removed from the facility, which is known as Pine Bluff Kennels. The operator of the facility will be given 15 days after her first court date to post a seizure bond on the animals.

If she is unable to post bond, the animals will be surrendered to Hickman County. They will then be placed with HSUS partner shelters and given the opportunity to become the family pets they never had the opportunity to be.

From the Humane Society of the United States Web Site hsus.org