Spring Creek Basin Mustangs

I’m running out of superlatives to describe the horses, the way I feel when I’m with them, the magic held within the basin as if under some transparent dome …

So quiet, except the bawling of cattle out on the Disappointment Road and the trucks and trailers rumbling back and forth. Moving to winter grazing. (Other cattle will be sharing the basin with the horses soon enough.) Interesting how that sound carries right into the heart of the basin, where the horses were – and I with them – on a glorious November morning. A truck also drove slowly out of the basin, in early, apparently, awaiting a trophy of hunting season (over Nov. 21; can I say I’ll be relieved, though as far as I know, we’ve had no problems this year, as most years?). Breezy early, then without so much as a by-your-leave, I realized it was nearly gone. Still and quiet and golden beautiful. Horses all around. Familiar. Secrets still to be revealed.

What left to say? Fortunately, I have a lot of pictures to illustrate what I’m at a loss for words to express!

Ember and Fierro pictured, watching the boys – do you see Kootenai and Corona in the background? Kreacher’s band was there, and, immediately across a narrow but deep arroyo (deeper than two of me, maybe three, and I’m not short), Comanche, Kestrel and Winona were there.

Here, Hook’s band and Duke with los lobos (wolfy loner boys), Twister and Cuatro. Recently, they had been seen with Bruiser. I saw him, too, not wild-horse-far away, loner again. Also not far but unseen for folds and ridges and sweeps and swells of country, Steeldust’s band (again, a misnomer but habit) and Seven’s. Chrome’s likely in the vicinity.

When I saw a bobcat in the morning dim before dawn, I knew it was going to be a fabulous day … and it was.