Letters

Letters

Letters

Bureau of Land Management is Archaic, Useless

Nicole Rivard’s timely article about Samson the mustang and his rescuer, Mitchell Bornstein, only reinforced my total disdain for this most archaic and useless branch of an equally inept cabinet department. It took me back to the story the Denver Post broke two years ago about Tom Davis, described as a livestock hauler and proponent of horse slaughter who purchased 1,700 from BLM through its Wild Horse Adoption Program and then couldn’t account for either the whereabouts or very existence of the creatures. Hey anyone can lose 1,700 horses right?   And besides, he said he loved horses so we have his word on that. He just didn’t say whether he liked them better dead or alive. Outside of the lackies and hacks at BLM and the Interior Department it would take the most credulous fool in the world not to believe that every one of those horses died in Mexican slaughterhouses after having their necks stabbed with a knife or skulls crushed with a hammer. But that’s only part of this macabre story.

The Post indicated that Davis lived and/or operated in the San Luis Valley in southwestern Colorado near Alamosa. Among his friends and neighbors there were the Salazars; Ken, the Interior Secretary, and his brother John, representing the 3rd Congressional District in the House. I recall that Ken downplayed their relationship while saying Davis was a good man who liked horses. In some perverse verbal translation that’s probably true.

Well it’s been two years now and still nothing from BLM or Interior other than some spokesman/buffoon chastising those of us who suspect the worst for pre-judging Davis’ guilt based solely on the large number of animals involved. While we try to ferret out some meaning from that vacuous statement we’re told that Salazar’s friend, Davis—brain cramp and all, has been referred to the Inspector General of the Interior Department, which Salazar recently headed, for disposition. Certainly no conflict of interest there.  And seeing that the so-called investigation has already taken two years without any findings or charges, I am reminded again of an old Chicago saying describing the political theatre there—“One hand washes the other.”

Can we expect some resolution of this matter soon? Don’t hold your breath. Authority doesn’t like to cede power or truth to anyone seeking to shine a bright light on its systemic failures.  And we certainly didn’t need any Tea Party diatribes or the racist rants of a semi-literate freeloading Nevada rancher to see the BLM for what it is—a noxious bureaucratic stew that accomplishes nothing of any significant good. But I’ll look forward to reading Last Chance Mustang and commend Bornstein for his compassion and activism.

Harry C. Koenig

Pueblo, Colo. 

 

Unconquered

Kudos to Jay Mallonee (Unconquered, Summer 2015, Action Line) for his valiant rescue of Highway, the wonderful Karelian bear dog, and giving him a chance to have a life of love and caring however short it may be.

All of our non-human animal friends have perfect souls and they will live forever when they go home after this earthly life ends.  Of this I am absolutely certain.

No human can be as good as a non-human animal until, one-by-one, we evolve to a level of understanding much higher than materiality can ever provide.  Humanity desperately needs to attend a great truth-telling session, void of all lies.

Could you please print in Action Line the complete poem Invictus from which the headers were taken?

Keep up the great work.

John Kurtz

Lansdale, PA

 

Editor’s Note:  Here is the poem Invictus.

 

Invictus

By William Ernest Henley

 

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

 

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

 

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.