by Birgit Stutz
The Crown lawyer rose to point out that had the accused made those contacts at the appropriate time, this matter would most likely not have come to court.
When the judge asked Mackay if he had anything to add, he replied, “No, I am fine. Thank you, sir.”
By this point, an hour had lapsed. The judge said he needed time to consider documents and photographs gathered as evidence in the case. He adjourned court until just before noon.
When court returned to session, Judge Gray looked straight at Mackay. “This was a notorious case in terms of publicity,” he said, “and it was a notorious case in terms of the actions that were not taken for the protection of those animals.”
He continued by addressing the “entirely inappropriate” comments attributed to Mackay in the press. “I understand from your apology today that you regret your behaviour in a number of aspects, but it seems to me after the investigation was commenced and after the incident received that large national publicity, you still conducted yourself in a way that was regrettable and certainly not professional.” Such behaviour, the judge stated, was unbecoming of “an officer of the court” who was potentially under investigation and facing possible charges.
Judge Gray also addressed the wider issue of horses being abandoned as a matter of practice. “That is a difficulty we have in the more remote regions of our country. In the backcountry, outfitters often take steps where they abandon horses. It is not acceptable, but it is done. . . . Where found out, it needs to be remedied.”
The judge reprimanded Mackay for not contacting the RCMP and other authorities after his two failed attempts to retrieve the horses. “You did not follow up with that, which leaves me with the impression that you had made a business decision to just leave matters as they were.”
In handing down his decision, the judge said he was taking into account Mackay’s record as a “lawyer of longstanding and good repute, and there is no criticism to be made there.” In administering punishment, the judge also considered the psychological trauma that Mackay had already endured, his age and the trauma he’d suffered from his accident. Judge Gray wondered aloud if the concussion “may have led you to conduct yourself in that regrettable fashion.”
Frank Mackay was ordered to pay a $1,000 fine, a $150 victim fine surcharge and restitution to the B.C. SPCA in the sum of $5,910.16, an amount representing the cost of vet exams during and after the rescue and the cost of transporting and temporarily boarding the horses. Mackay was also prohibited from owning any animals for two years (but only in British Columbia, the only province where the judge had authority), given a probation order for two years and ordered to undergo counselling—“to ensure that there is a proper response to mental health issues” and to educate Mackay on the proper care and custody of animals. Had Mackay lived in British Columbia, and not Alberta, the judge said he would have insisted that Mackay complete a course offered by the B.C. SPCA.
The judge further instructed Mackay to deliver a copy of his probation order to the nearest SPCA office in Edmonton and to the provincial SPCA office in Alberta to alert authorities there. He was also to purchase an advertisement in two issues of our local weekly newspaper to publish the statement that his lawyer had read in court. The notice, addressed to “Residents of McBride and area” and signed by Frank C. Mackay, would appear in the Valley Sentinel early in February 2010.
Reaction to the news was swift and varied. Some thought the penalty should have been far more severe, others thought justice had been served, and some believed the proceedings were beside the point—that Mackay had suffered enough. At least Belle and Sundance would never return to their previous owner, and many of us took consolation in that.
However, the case of the Queen versus Frank Mackay was not to end there. Mackay appealed the judge’s ruling about probation and counselling, arguing that Judge Gray lacked the authority to impose either. Early in February of 2010, a provincial Supreme Court judge in Prince George agreed with him.
The backdrop to all this, and it may well have figured in Mackay’s thinking (and fuelled his anger at the public outcry), was a long history of kept horses starving in British Columbia. Certain outfitters simply abandon horses in the wilderness come fall (“standard business practice” was how Shawn Eccles of the SPCA put it); individual horse owners leave their horses in winter paddocks without adequate food and water (increasingly so in hard economic times); and on some First Nations reserves, where horses are often deemed common property, horses are sometimes left to fend for themselves all winter long. Such horses survive mild winters but many succumb during long or harsh winters. Even veterinarians have been caught up in charges of neglect and abuse of their own horses.
On February 20, 2009, a ceremony and luncheon were held in Prince George to honour the rescue effort, with Premier Gordon Campbell and Deputy Premier Shirley Bond both present to hand out certificates. The premier and his deputy were in town on other business, but the local chamber of commerce and Bond’s office used the occasion to recognize “the shovel brigade.”
At an award ceremony in Prince George (from left): Joey Rich, Deputy Premier Shirley Bond, Dave Jeck, Ray Long, Rod Whelpton, Premier Gordon Campbell, Birgit Stutz and Marc Lavigne.
Though not keen on going to the ceremony, Marc and I feared it would reflect badly on McBride and the rescue group if only a few turned up, so we went. At first, we’d thought it would be fun to go on a trip with our fellow rescuers, as some of them we knew barely or not at all. Unfortunately, only a handful of them were able and willing to come. We didn’t talk much about the rescue; however, we did share horse stories and sledding stories and enjoyed a lot of laughter.
The certificate from the federal government, with the insignia of the thirteen provinces and territories as well as that of the House of Commons all ringing the document, read:In recognition of your heroic efforts to rescue two stranded horses from certain death in the Robson Valley. Your exceptional compassion for animals and determined actions won the admiration and gratitude of the entire nation.
The provincial certificate, topped by a sun rising over a mountaintop (“British Columbia: The Best Place on Earth,” it read below the drawing), stated:The Province of British Columbia gratefully acknowledges the selfless contribution made by [name inserted] to the December 2008 Renshaw horse rescue. Your compassionate actions are an example of the spirit that truly makes British Columbia the Best Place on Earth.
Several of those who had either dug on the mountain or played behind-the-scenes roles were there: Dave Jeck, Ray Long, Rod Whelpton, Joey Rich, Marc and me. We all received certificates with our names on them.
There was one funny moment and, of course, Ray was at the centre of it. One by one, we were called up to the stage to be congratulated and handed our certificates. Ray was summoned last. Shirley Bond introduced Ray, whom she had met in McBride on another occasion. She shook his hand, and Ray gave Shirley a big hug. When Ray turned to shake the premier’s hand, Gordon Campbell walked toward him and spread his arms, prepared for a hug. Ray, however, gave him a shove, grabbed his hand and shook it firmly, then slapped the premier in the chest.
“Oh, you northern boys are all the same,” said the premier, laughing. The room broke up. Ray later explained his action this way: “I don’t like being hugged in public.” Not by men anyway.
That spring, I received a letter from the B.C. SPCA’s Vancouver office. It read, in part, “Each May, the B.C. SPCA holds an award ceremony. . . . We honour individuals who have made an outstanding contribution to animal welfare in B.C. in the previous year. . . . One of the major awards is an Award of Heroism, and this year the B.C. SPCA would like to present this award to the amazing people of McBride who rescued Belle and Sundance.”
Accepting the British Columbia SPCA Award of Heroism on behalf of the community of McBride (from left): Mayor Mike Frazier, Birgit Stutz, Lana Jeck, Dave Jeck, Lester Blouin and Stuart MacMaster.
Kent Kokoska, one of the SPCA officials working out
of Kamloops who had come to see the rescue effort, said, “We were very pleased that such a huge undertaking had been accomplished in such a short time due to the compassionate efforts of the locals. It struck a deep chord with us. It is something we won’t forget any time soon.”
“If you own an animal,” said Debbie Goodine of British Columbia’s SPCA in Prince George, “and that animal is suffering, it’s your responsibility to ensure that suffering is relieved.” She called the rescue effort on Mount Renshaw “a miracle.”
The story of Belle and Sundance had spread—through the Internet, through Facebook, through emails that skipped around the world. At the height of the rescue story, the sledders’ forum got fifty thousand hits. The role of technology in this story taking off could not be overstated, but when all was said and done, it was local people who literally came to the rescue.
Looking back, I marvel at all our good luck. The notoriously fickle mountain weather co-operated, offering a steady stream of cold, clear days. Had temperatures risen, the snow would have turned wet and heavy and the digging would have been that much harder on our backs and shoulders. Although the cold was a burden on both the horses and the humans up on that mountain, as each phase of the trench was completed, the deep freeze hardened the track. And though I wish we had arrived sooner, we were fortunate that the horses had survived the frigid temperatures long enough for us to discover them.
The one-kilometre-long trench allowed access for Belle and Sundance, but it might also have created a passageway for predators. Yet no predators found them. No snow fell during the eight-day rescue operation, nor during the night, and we were spared those fierce mountaintop winds that might have filled in our trench in minutes. Some days, wind rocked the valley floor but not the mountaintop. Two days after the rescue was complete, both snow and wind returned and blithely swallowed up our trench.
The early days of the rescue were a muddle, with the right hand sometimes not knowing what the left was doing. But it all worked out; the little tensions, the politics and cliques that can divide a group and lead to argument all were quickly dealt with before they could amount to anything. The abiding sentiment was this: what’s best for the horses? Horses in a herd have to sort themselves out, and looking back, I can see that everyone involved in the rescue effort did the same. In fact, I was amazed at how people managed to put their differences aside. How virtual strangers formed an alliance. In a way, it was a blessing that we needed eight days to dig that trench and walk the horses out. Belle and Sundance were given time to begin gaining back the weight they had lost, to recover some of their strength, to get warm again thanks to blankets and hay. And the people working toward their rescue had the opportunity to bond.
One striking thing about this story is that it brought together three parties—those who love animals, those who love machines and those who love both. The horse lovers had their pipelines: the telephone and email. The sledders had theirs: the Internet forum and Glenn Daykin’s shop. Over coffee, at Spin Drift’s long black counter, information (and misinformation) about the lost horses would be shared then spread around McBride and up and down the Robson Valley.
“People think sledders are rednecks,” says Barry Walline. “I get it all the time. A lot of people don’t like snowmobilers. But the sledding community did step up. What they did made the snowmobile community look good. More respectable than they’re commonly perceived. They made McBride look good.”
Ray agreed. “This wasn’t about the value of horses. You might get $75 for them at the meat plant. The rescue proved to the owner that the horses could be rescued.” This was a recurring theme among valley folk. That someone had left the horses on the mountain seemed to imply that getting them off was impossible. For locals, this was a challenge—a gauntlet had been thrown down, and the Robson Valley responded. When it later became clear around McBride that the owner of those horses had expressed doubt that anyone here would help him retrieve his animals, it was viewed as an insult.
Trudy Frisk, the author of an online column on a popular Canadian website called cowboylife.com, wrote eloquently about the rescue in a piece she called “It Takes a Valley.” Writing in January of 2009, she remarked on the let’s-just-get-it-done attitude that governed what happened on the mountain:. . . they hadn’t formed a committee, drafted a mission statement, applied for a government grant and ensured that the shovelling groups were gender balanced. They just voluntarily went out in the cold and dark, spending time and money to rescue two strange horses, horses which didn’t belong to them or to anybody they knew. Those who couldn’t actively dig supported the rescue in many other ways; the entire valley was involved.
Sundance, July 2010.
Belle, June 2010.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I owe great thanks to my husband and best friend, Marc Lavigne, who was an incredible emotional support to me throughout the entire rescue of Belle and Sundance as well as the writing of this book. Marc read through the various stages of the manuscript and provided important feedback while helping me refresh my memory.
I am much indebted to my co-author, Lawrence Scanlan, who was fascinated by the story of the two rescued horses as soon as he heard it. Larry flew to Dunster to meet with me and many of the volunteers a few months after the rescue; he then worked tirelessly on the manuscript with me for almost two years. I wouldn’t have been able to write this book without him.
To my literary agent, Jackie Kaiser of Westwood Creative Artists, thank you for having a vision and believing in this story from day one. You opened up a whole new world to me.
Sincere thanks to everyone at HarperCollins: publisher Iris Tupholme, for her belief in this story; my editor, Kate Cassaday, for setting the bar high; managing editor Noelle Zitzer and production editor Sarah Howden for keeping us all on track; copy editor Cathy Witlox for fine-tuning the manuscript; Lisa Bettencourt for her graphic design talents; and my publicist, Emma Ingram, for her guidance.
Sincere thanks goes out as well to everyone at the Perseus Books Group: my U.S. editor Merloyd Lawrence, senior project editor Annie Lenth, managing editor Fred Francis, publicist Lara Hrabota and art director Jonathan Sainsbury.
I would like to thank Kim Gilbeau, Gordon Jeck, Reg Marek, Frank Peebles, Glen Stanley, Carla Trask and Catie Ward for the use of their photos.
I thank my friend Monika Brown for never giving up on the two horses, even when they were believed to be dead, and for her emotional support throughout the entire rescue.
I would also like to thank Sara Olofsson for answering my desperate plea for help when I first found out about the two starving horses and for being a big supporter of this book from day one.
To my family, thank you for always believing in me and backing me in all my endeavours.
And last but not least, a heartfelt thank-you to everyone who participated in the rescue of Belle and Sundance, whether on the mountain or off it. There were more than fifty people—too many names to mention. Thanks as well to everyone who shared their stories. Without you, this book wouldn’t have come to be.
PHOTO CREDITS
Page 2: Birgit Stutz
Page 16: Reg Marek
Page 22: Glen Stanley
Page 34: Carla Trask
Page 57: Birgit Stutz
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Page 75: Carla Trask
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Page 90: Falling Star Ranch*
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Page 131: Falling Star Ranch*
Page 133: Gordon Jeck
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Page 157: Carla Trask
Page 159: Gordon Jeck
Page 162 (both photos): Marc Lavigne
Page 165: Carla Trask
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Page 172: Marc Lavigne
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Page 185: Frank Peebles, Prince George Citizen
Page 191: Falling Star Ranch1
Page 193: Catie Ward
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Page 215: Birgit Stutz
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
BIRGIT STUTZ, journalist, riding instructor and horse trainer, was a key member of the rescue team. She lives on Falling Star Ranch near McBride in northeastern British Columbia together with her husband, 13 horses, six cats and a dog.
LAWRENCE SCANLAN, based in Kingston, Ontario, is the author of several books about horses, including The Horse God Built: The Untold Story of Secretariat, the World’s Greatest Racehorse. His most recent book is A Year of Living Generously.
1 Pictures provided by Falling Star Ranch were photographed by various people using Birgit Stutz’s camera.
Copyright © 2010 by Birgit Stutz and Lawrence Scanlan
First published in Canada in 2010 by Collins,
an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. For information, address Da Capo Press, 44 Farnsworth Street, 3rd Floor, Boston, MA 02210.