ALLIANCE, NEBRASKA
APRIL 2009
A Personal Experience
3 Strike Ranch entrance - that is a hangman's noose dangling center of arch
Before reading this story it's important that you understand that this is my personal account of what I experienced - from my perspective. I am not on the investigative team, or privileged to any of the information that is being collected for the case. As far as I know, at time of my writing this, the owner of 3 Strikes Ranch has yet to be charged with anything by the Morrill County Sheriffs. So you are reading my opinions, understandings and experience as I lived it.
When I first heard about the terrible starving horses of 3 Strikes Ranch I had no idea I would find myself submerged in a sea of barely breathing horses in the middle of the Sand Hills in a little cowtown called Alliance. I only intended to help monetarily and provide some hay or medical supplies or whatever good I could bring from my office. Lord knows my time is stretched pretty thin right now. We have a full month ahead with Wild Horse Boot Camp, On The Wings of Wild Horses and our fund raiser Club Wild. So I wasn't even considering being on the front lines....but things always find a way to turn out different than you imagine.
3 Strike BLM mustangs waiting to be moved to safer ground. Hay was provided by horse rescue groups and individuals across the country.
I don't know how or why it happened but I received a call from one Jason Meduna of 3 Strikes Ranch on Tuesday morning April 22nd. I already knew that this was the man who had been accused of starving and neglecting approximately 200 horses and that's not counting the ones that were already found dead on his 2000 acre ranch. 50 or 60 horses were estimated as previously reported to be piled up and then also randomly scattered on the acreage.
Apparently this situation came to light when an aircraft pilot out for a pleasure flight viewed the mass of carcasses from the sky and reported his findings. As I understand it when questions came at 3 Strike ranch owner Meduna about dead horses he started building a desperate defense. Something about cattlemen poisoning the horses.
By the time his call came in to me he was already knee deep in trouble. A horse welfare representative was on the scene working with the local sheriff and Mr. Meduna had already been arrested, jailed and then bonded out. It was actually the BLM who filed the initial charge landing Meduna in jail. It was for one count of animal cruelty. Seems silly knowing there were 200 or so horses that were suffering, but there was only one surviving BLM untitled horse on the property...there should have been 5 animals. The rest are said to be dead. The BLM made the first offical move on the case.
So this Tuesday morning the Sheriff and a horse welfare advocate were pressuring him to sign all the horses over to Habitat for Horses, the advocate's group so they could be legally moved off the property and to a place they could be treated and cared for. He was refusing, even though the Sheriff threatened to throw him back in the slammer. One crazy desperate alleged horse abuser (have to use that term until convicted) looking for a way to stall and thwart the Sheriff's efforts called me and though we had never met, never even spoke, he begged me to take the horses instead of Habitat. He was frantic on the phone. To help remedy the situation I offered that the Sheriff put Lifesavers on the transfer document if that would move the rescue along. So they did, and Meduna did sign the horses over to now co-custodians Habitat for Horses and Lifesavers Wild Horse Rescue.
That began what turned out to be one of the most disturbing and emotionally taxing horse rescue operations I have ever been involved with.
The severity of the neglect is easy to see
I'm not one to take my responsibilities lightly. Thus I boarded the first flight to Alliance, Nebraska the next morning to see what I could do to facilitate and assist with the rescue of what had become "our" horses. As the little prop plane landed Wed afternoon at the Alliance Regional Airport I realized that I was flying along with one of the Humane Society for the U.S. people. The HSUS were called in to help with the rescue as it was large scale, complicated and needed a lot of money and resources to succeed.
After a short drive through a quaint country town dripping with history that I was longing to take in, I met up with co-custodian Jerry Finch of Habitat for Horses, out of Texas. HSUS folks and I followed Finch to the Bridgeport Rodeo grounds to see where the horses were to be housed once removed from the 3 Strikes Ranch.
I was thrilled to meet Dr. Jim Thurman after hearing his rundown of how he would like to orchestrate the assessment and initial vetting of the horses which would involve drawing blood, deworming, marking and identifying each animal. He was obviously very experienced in safety handling and willing to jump in and help the horses. I felt comfort knowing he was on the team.
While I was soaking in the planning discussions and meeting some of the other HSUS crew members and volunteers. I was approached over and over again and told that "Jason is waiting for you - you've got to get out to the ranch he really wants to talk with you". So in the interest of the rescue it was decided (not by me) that I would be the liason between Jason Meduna and the rest of the rescue operation. It was my job to negotiate with him in such a way that he would comply and cooperate with the extraction of the horses, which up to this point he was only trying to hinder. I wasn't comfortable with this mission but I agreed to give it my best shot - for the horses.
Upon meeting Meduna I felt a cold chill go down my spine. My mind was telling me that evil walks the earth and that it can take any form. In this case the form of a midwest cowboy and self-proclaimed mustang gentler. He was spun like a top and hard to keep focused. But I befriended him and listened to his paranoid rantings of horse poisoning and was stunned by his transparently poor job of acting as if he cared about the welfare of the remaining horses. I had to really harness my control in order to remain emotionless and feign understanding for his position.
One has to wonder how he, for all these years, managed to gain trust and respect from so many people. So trusted that they would ask him to take their horse and give it a good home. Many times they would pay him to do so. Some felt so comfortable with him that they asked him to teach them how to gentle and train the wild horses he was in care of. By the way, 3 strike horses are ones that the BLM deems unadoptable because they have been passed over for, or returned from, adoption 3 times. Ususally a 3 strike horse will end up at a government run sanctuary in Oklahoma or Kansas. For some reason the BLM also trusted Meduna's intent and skills and allowed him to adopt or purchase as many as 250 horses up til now.
My hard work and determination paid off. At least I thought it had. Jason Meduna agreed to let the crew load up and remove all the stronger horses. This, I was sure, was a lame attempt to convince the public that he was indeed interested in saving the horses, even though maybe 100 of them were already dead. And dead for a long time. Some, I was told, died so long ago that only scattered dry bones remained. It seems to me that Meduna had plenty of time to seek help and perhaps save the majority of the horses. But photos showed that the horses were piled up on his property. Dead bodies on top of each other as if they might never be found and no one would know the difference.
The local veterinarian, Dr. Tom Furman, conducted necropsies on 3 of the dead horses found on the ranch. He explained to me that the results showed depleted fat reserves surrounding vital organs, typical of extreme malnutrition/starvation and severe parasitic infestation. One horse was so infested with worms that they had penetrated the intestine and were just swimming around loose in the abdomen. The have also sent samples of bones to a lab for further reports.
Feeling accomplished in my assigned mission I returned to the motel to meet up with the other rescue staff members. I was told that the Sheriff Dept. were going to in fact seize the horses in the morning and we would be free to enter the property even without Meduna's permission and remove the horses. This also meant that Lifesavers would have to surrender the horses it had already signed on to protect. Also it meant that a hurried extraction of the horses would need to take place all in one day's work. I worried that some of the horses could drop on us if we asked too much of them too quickly.
Well the morning phone call from Meduna proved to me that he could not be trusted and that the only answer was indeed to let the Sheriff seize the horses. Meduna informed me that he had no intention of letting any of horses off the property that day. He wanted to wait for a toxicology report that his vet took, separately from the Furman's tests, to come back that would prove Arsenic posioning. However, no such report has surfaced, to my knowledge. Yet if there is one positive test result from a horse that he decided to test, rather than a random chosen one, I would be suspicious as to how that horse became poisoned in the first place, if the other tests have proven negative for toxins.
Many of the horses are depressed as well as ill. Many of them just stand motionless - heads hanging.
Anyway, the seizure went forward. HSUS commanded the operation and ruled with an iron fist. Their priority was speed in removing the horses. We needed a system that ran like a clock so not to waste resources. Horse trailer volunteers were arranged to stagger their arrivals so that one leaving would signal another to drive in. I was happily assigned as crew leader for loading mustangs into trailers since that's one thing I do pretty well.
There were about 4 other volunteers working on my team and we worked out our bugs and issues early in the day. After a couple trailers of horses left our team was functioning like a well oiled machine and we were damned good at sorting horses out of a corral full in groups of 6 or so and then pushing them carefully but firmly into the trailer. We worked non-stop as long as there were horse trailers to load.
Luckily I donated the funds for coolers, ice and drinks otherwise we wouldn't have had even a drop to drink. There was no portapotty or any place for us girls to go, so mostly we held it until the end of the day. It was hot - I was dehydrated and didn't have to go too badly anyway.
We took no lunch breaks. We sat and rested in between horse trailer arrivals and departures. Somebody did bring a loaf of bread and some lunch meat. And for those of us who don't eat meat we were offered a jar of peanut butter. I couldn't imagine trying to swallow peanut butter as dried out as my mouth and body already was. So I went without but many of the volunteers feasted on what was there.
We were going really well. And by about 6pm most of the horses were already off the property and received in good order at the Bridgeport Rodeo grounds where they would be held for a few days for vetting and assessment.
I had to leave abruptly so I wasn't able to see the rescue through to the end. The remainder of the horses did manage to get moved without any serious injuries, at least that's what has been reported since I left the site.
Although the whole operation was like a shadowy ghost that kept changing its outline, bending and twisting its shape so that you never really knew what you were dealing with, I feel privileged to have been part of a historic rescue of that magnitude.
The rescued horses, bless their precious souls, will survive and live to tell the story years down the road.
The horses were interested in the rescue. They knew a change was taking place. They were excited. Maybe hopeful.
After arriving back home where my surroundings are constant and I only need to gaze out into the corrals to be reminded of why I'm even on this earth I feel my strength resurging. I am confident in my purpose and proud of my previous successes. The greatest realization that came from this flash of a journey, this fading nightmare, is how grateful I am for my true friends and family...and how much I cherish them.
I am completely saddened and sorry for the lives lost so needlessly - so mercilessly. I am now going to go outside to hug a bunch of fortunate horses. I will hug them once because I love them and then again in honor of the 3 Strike victims - those still with us and those not. RIP sweet babies - we'll see you on the other side. I hope.
Jill Starr, President, Lifesavers Wild Horse Rescue
Denver Channel News Story http://www.9news.com/news/article.aspx?storyid=114388&catid=339
To whom it may concern:
My name is Cheyenne Skye Rondeaux and I am a seven year old Crow Indian
girl.
I also work with and love all horses. My Dad is horseman and stunt man
Rod Rondeaux.
Together we train and care for our horses and for those in need.
My Mom showed me the article online about Jason Meduna and his wild
horses.
I want to say to him: " If you are going to be like that to your horses
what if you were your horses how would that make you feel to not be fed.
You shouldn't have horses if you can't take care of the them. Wild
horses need special care, love, and patience, and food too! I am only
seven and I take care of my horses why didn't you take care of your wild
horses? I saw the pictures of your horses and it made me feel sad. As
long as Indians and horses have been together we have loved each other
for a long time. What you did to those horses was wrong and you
shouldn't have ever been able to have horses at your ranch. You are no
horse trainer or lover if you did that to your herd of horses."
I hope those horses find love, food, and care far far away from the 3
strikes ranch.
Sincerely,
Cheyenne Skye Rondeaux
A proud Crow Indian Horse owner and lover.
Go to Rachael Waller Photography gallery
view artful and visionary images of the 3 Strikes horses
A portion of all gallery sales will be donated toward the 3 Strikes Rescue and Care