Spring Creek Basin Mustangs

… thy name is mother.

You thought witchy wind knots came from never-ending gusts of indiscriminate, wild, howling, desert bellows, didn’t you?

And now you know the truth of the matter. 🙂

Baby Aurora yummie-yummed on mama Alegre’s dreds for quite a long time before mama finally got tired and took the step or three necessary to put her just out of daughter’s reach … her lock of mane resting now dark and wet and thoroughly gummed against her shoulder. Baby-girl turned to find something more appetizing – and nutritious? – at ground level.