
Shadow is ever unwilling to be closer to two-legged admiration than necessary – and even that close seems wholly unnecessary.

Shadow is ever unwilling to be closer to two-legged admiration than necessary – and even that close seems wholly unnecessary.

How does the light seem to strike the mustangs just right, in the most lovely of ways?
Terra’s braids are getting long. When she grazes, she’s close to stepping on the longest one.

Chipeta takes advantage of a jungle of greasewood and rabbitbrush in the bottom of an arroyo to hide from the intrepid photographer.
Yeah, it didn’t work. 🙂

Just in the past few days, the lingering snow on McKenna Peak and the eastern ridges above Spring Creek Basin has melted. We have some warm days coming up, though nighttime temperatures will be chilly (teens and 20s).
The bling on the slopes lasts about as long as that in Tenaz’s mane and tail.

A nearby band was too tempting for Hayden to not go investigate – through a deep arroyo and over a ridge!
Meanwhile, his mares thought that looked like way too much effort, so they hung out on their own side of the arroyo and waited for him to return.
When Hayden reappeared, having ensured that the rival band was no threat to his family, he approached the arroyo, then stopped (he even cocked a hip!). Apparently, it was a standoff; would he make the effort to traverse the deep ditch again … or would his mares make the effort to join him on the other side?
Naturally, the mares chose an altogether different option and moseyed into a little cleft between hills, and as they disappeared from his line of sight, Hayden decided (quickly) that where they were was where he needed to be, and on he came!
Nobody gives the girls an ultimatum, not even their handsome copper stallion. 🙂

Sun too bright? Wind too sharp?
Kwana thought surely the sky was blue enough to satisfy my longing, and he wouldn’t open his own blues as long as he napped. He doesn’t understand the fuss, but I love to look into his blue eyes the color of sky.

On another sharp evening, Killian and Shadow graze peacefully. Bundled in several layers, with my hoodie hood held in place against the wind by the strings, knotted under my chin, I envied them their fuzzy coats. They didn’t seem to be at all bothered by the bite of the wind.
The weather still is terribly dry, with nothing in our forecast that resembles any kind of precipitation.

The warm light enveloping Kestrel and Piedra was at odds with the sharp wind at 40 degrees that felt more like 30 (or colder). I tossed my gloves on the ground a bit after this (dumb, but I was in a hurry to take advantage of a view), and my hands didn’t feel thawed till after I got back to the Jeep an hour later.
The heavily eroded hill in the distance is Flat Top. By virtue of the lingering snow, you can tell that we’re looking at the north-ish-facing slopes. That’s the hill I hiked up the last time we had snow. The treed ridge in the far background – marked with some open areas – is beyond Spring Creek Basin.
Interestingly, in editing mode, it looks like Word Press has doubled (?) the size at which it’s now displaying images, which is fantastic. The mustangs deserve to be seen large.