Photo Shoot

I might have mentioned that I entered a photo competition altered and unaltered. The one below is Tango the horse, our three year old Arab mare, unaltered.

This one is called Dreams, it was really fun to create, it is made out of four different and separately altered photos on Adobe Photoshop. 

Lethal White Syndrome

Lethal White Syndrome

The lethal white syndrome is an autosomal (a chromosome that is not a sex chromosome) recessive defect mostly seen in a foal with two overo (American paint horse) parents. “Both parents must be carriers of one copy of the LWS allele in order for an affected foal to be born”. A foal with LWS is born appearing healthy other than a strange white (unpigmented) coat and blue eyes; however within 24 hours the foal will start to display signs of colic and within days with die. Foals suspected of being LW’s are often euthanized so not to suffer though a painful death. LWS is always lethal; through there are other color mutations that are not fatal that produce white foals.

The lethal white gene affects the order of the DNA that has to do with the development of the digestive tract. A horse’s digestive system consists of the cecum, the colon, as well as the rectum. “Necropsies on lethal white syndrome foals reveal a pale, underdeveloped colon and intestinal obstruction”. Tissue samples from colons of LWS foals have shown a lack of nerves that allow the intestine to move food through the digestive system. Carriers, which are heterozygous (have one copy of the mutated allele) can now be identified with a DNA test. Breeding two LWS heterozygous horses together should be avoided. Most Overo stallions are now tested for LWS so breeders can successfully avoid having LWS foals. It has been predicted that LWS will start affecting other breeds of horses more often, as a result of breeding for color, instead of physical traits (good conformation). In these horses, genetic variation is becoming less and negative genetic traits showing up more frequently.

The diagram below shows the possible results of two LWS heterozygous horses breeding.

Cite

http://www.petplace.com/horses/lethal-white-syndrome/page1.aspx

http://www.apha.com/breed/lethalwhites01.html

http://www.completerider.com/understandinggenes.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lethal_white_syndrome

p://stallingspainthorses.com/lethal-white1.htm

http://www.netpets.org/horses/healthspa/lethal.html


I wrote this for Biology class, it  was awesome to finally use some of my horsey knowledge for academic purposes!

Lately I have not graced this website with my presence, no I have been kept busy by school, Art, horses and the lack of Internet at my house(my Internet adapter broke).

A while ago I entered a scary story contest at my high school with my story Dark Waters, it was fun to write(as its horsey related) and hope you will enjoy it as well. It placed second.

DARK WATERS

It’s mid-day, the sky blue, the sun white; sweat is running down my face, I reach to wipe it off with my tunic. My friends and I were to meet up today at the pond. We’d been sneaking up there for the past week at every opportunity, to explore the marshlands of Scotland, our parents unknowing. But, in our reasoning, we didn’t need to tell them. Just because we’re the “young” age of eleven they think we don’t know anything. They believe that there were monsters lurking in the murky depths, with sharp teeth and a history of luring in unsuspecting children with their shape-shifting abilities. No, those midwife tales are too deeply embedded in our superstitious parents. They just couldn’t get their minds off the nine children that were lost in the pond over seventy years ago. It didn’t help that the one survivor, an old man now, told a tale of a white horse with skin that felt of death, which devoured the nine–all except for their hearts and livers. Those, the monster left to float to the top, and the old man always went on and on about the eyes. Well, that was the tale he told. We, the realistic type, had our doubts as to the clarity of the old man’s memory.

I spotted Mile and Kale up ahead and ran to join them in a race to the water’s edge. The water was cool and refreshing after the day’s heat and we splashed and wrestled. In our exploring I found a knife, it must have been fifty years old, the key ingredient we needed to play knights. “It’s the black knight” Mile shouts as he tackles Kale to the ground, “Here I come to save the day”! I yell as I run to help, the knife in one hand. I knew we ought to head home soon, but we were having so much fun…I paused to look up at the rapidly darkening sky, Darkness seemed to seep under my skin and I felt heavy, my heart pounding in my ears, my breath loud against the sudden silence.

Dark clouds started to gather as if they were called. And when a white horse appeared my eyes did not have to squint to see his beauty. My mind felt as though a foggy mist was clouding my thoughts. Somehow I knew it was a he, and could think of nothing but the sheer beauty of him. We approached the white horse and he seemed beckon to us, his soaked mane tangled with kelp, his eyes calling, calling, all I wanted to do was to touch his velvet muzzle. My mind dimly processed that Mile and Kale were now on his back. My fingers brushed his soft skin, expecting it to be warm with the day’s sun; instead, it was cold, cold like death…



Something about the situation bothered me. I tried to remember, but his dark forbidding eyes seemed to cloud my memory and fill my mind with all but my own thoughts. I dropped my arm. Or rather, tried to, my fingers were stuck!

In a flood it all came back, the tales of a beautiful white monster with eyes... Death... Cold…

My mind went numb with realization, my throat tearing at the word; it wouldn’t release it, why could I not speak it! Terror had frozen my mind and tongue. Finally released, “KELPIE”! I screamed. Mile and Kale looked at me puzzled from on top of his back. Then, it hit them–the old man’s tales. The Kelpie looked at me with eyes that reflected its hunger. It was going to eat me! My mind reeled at the thought. I struggled and pulled trying to free my unyielding fingers, my feet sliding on the sandy bank. But to no avail! I had to get free! But how? The knife! It was still in my hand, I ran it across my left hand, severing my fingers. The pain! The fog no longer clouded my mind and I ran, ran for my life. Behind me Kale and Mile struggled to follow but, on his back, they had no chance for freedom. Still running, I looked behind me to see the horse disappearing into the water, my friend’s still struggling forms fading into nothingness. I did not pause again to see the blood of my friends stain the water, the water that the old man had warned us of. The pain from my missing fingers seemed a fair price for life.

A couple of weeks ago I also entered a high school photography contest with the theme of "what are you thankful for"?
and placed first in the altered category and second in the unaltered, I'll put them up here as soon as I get a chance.