Animal lovers, are you familiar with the practice of soring?
Trigger Warning: Animal Abuse.
Soring, by definition from the Horse Protection Act (HPA) passed by Congress in 1976, is:
“(A) an irritating or blistering agent has been applied, internally or externally, by a person to any limb of a horse,
“(B) any burn, cut, or laceration has been inflicted by a person on any limb of a horse,
“(C) any tack, nail, screw, or chemical agent has been injected by a person into or used by a person on any limb of a horse, or
“(D) any other substance or device has been used by a person on any limb of a horse or a person has engaged in a practice involving a horse, and, as a result of such application, infliction, injection, use, or practice, such horse suffers, or can reasonably be expected to suffer, physical pain or distress, inflammation, or lameness when walking, trotting, or otherwise moving, except that such term does not include such an application, infliction, injection, use, or practice in connection with the therapeutic treatment of a horse by or under the supervision of a person licensed to practice veterinary medicine in the State in which such treatment was given.”
There are many ways to sore horses. In some barns, those secrets are as closely guarded as a Grandma’s Pecan Pie recipe. But in short, it’s hurting the horse to alter his gait.
Admittedly, the effect is dramatic. As a sore horse tries to escape the pain in his front feet and lower legs, he snatches them up quickly, which gives the “desired effect” of tremendous lift in the front. Meanwhile, he tries to take as much weight as possible off his front feet by shifting his weight to his back feet, squatting down in the rear as he reaches beneath himself with his hind legs. The resulting gait has been described as “the praying mantis crawl.”
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A FORMER INSIDER describes a typical scene. “The first thing you might notice about a sore horse barn is a strange smell. That is, if you’re not distracted by a smooth talking barn employee or just run off altogether. Though the barn might have a “public area” much of it is off limits. The barn may seem dark because stalls are kept shut up, to keep horses from view and to muffle the sound of groaning. Horses are down a lot. If you get close enough to look at the horses, look in their eyes. That pain shows through.”
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Among those unfairly hurt by the practice of soring are the sound trainers, exhibitors and owners.
Others unfairly hurt by the practice of soring are the sound trainers, exhibitors and owners. People whose lives and livelihoods are deeply entwined with the horses they love and respect. People who love their retired show horses. Even people who go out of their way to rescue abused horses and provide them a safe haven. In the eyes of the public, the stigma of soring taints the entire gaited horse industry, with the beautiful, big-hearted Tennessee Walking Horse bearing the brunt of it.
Long-term effects on the breed include the change in character of the horses over time, both in terms of structure and gait brought on by the spectator demand for the sore version of the running walk. According to both USDA figures and recent reports from the Tennessee Walking Horse Breeders’ and Exhibitors’ Association, entries in such classes have dropped.
Those who have led the fight against soring have been harassed, threatened and intimidated by those with the money and influence to do so. But their ranks are growing everyday. Many people have committed to great personal sacrifice to abolish a practice that was outlawed by Federal law long ago. At the core of the problem is money. Those that support soring have more money to fight the law than the USDA has to enforce it.
On a Friday afternoon in the fall of 2004, I drove to a two-night Tennessee Walking Horse show in a southern Virginia town just off I-81. At the outset, it seemed like any other horse show. A few hours before the first class began, trailers started to arrive, parking in neat rows behind the stabling area. All around me, horses were unloaded. But here and there, others were left standing in their trailers as their handlers gathered and conferred in low tones. By the time the show began, many horsemen had left without ever unloading their horses. It was not something I was accustomed to seeing.
Later that evening, as I leaned up against the rail of the main arena, I wondered aloud why so many classes had been canceled. “The government’s here,” said a man standing nearby, nodding toward a white tent beside the showring. As we watched a single horse and rider parade before the judges, he added, “Usually, there’d be eight or 10 showing in this class.”
The man moved down the rail to talk to another horseman, but not out of earshot. “I’ve got 10 here,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder to his trailer, “and I guess two can still go.”
“Well, we’re outta here,” the other man replied. “But I’ll bring a full load tomorrow. They never come back a second day.”
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It was impossible to hide a horse’s pain, says Morgan Rhoads, a Tennessee Walking Horse trainer who wrote a 2002 exposé on soring called From the Horse’s Mouth under the pen name Eugene Davis. “Some horses were in such pain from soring they would spend their time lying down until they were prodded to stand,” says Rhoads. Reband adds that when she showed, “horses had to be whipped to rise, and it was not considered a horrible thing.”
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http://www.equisearch.com/horses_care/health/lameness/soring_030706/
