Spring Creek Basin Mustangs

A couple of bands are fairly close together currently, with a water source acting as the hub. Here, Terra grazes closest to me, while …

… Bia and mama Aiyanna and daddy Buckeye graze not too far away.

The grasses are fabulous, and we need rain to keep them that way. It looks peaceful, eh? It was still 89 degrees at 8:30 p.m. Toasty out there, and dry, dry, dry.

Spots on the pony. 🙂

Skywalker’s scars look like graffiti on a wall, eh? Translation: A life wildly lived!

Let’s talk about dryness.

I may have mentioned this in previous blog posts, but I record rain and snow (and water-equivalent moisture) amounts on a site called Community Collaborative Rain, Hail & Snow Network every day of every week, month and year. I’ve been doing it for a few (several?) years now. It started with a nudge from the local water commissioner (with the Colorado Division of Water Resources, and I was all over it so I could prove drought relative to something Spring Creek Basin related. That was proved, the outcome was successful, and as life goes on, still I measure rain and snow – and – IMPORTANTLY – the lack thereof.

In recent months, it’s been a bit of a joke that the Denver and Front Range areas (it’s all the same, right?) have been getting so much rain while the weather people say “most of Colorado is getting rain.”

This little tidbit was just in the Denver Post: “It’s rained more in Denver by now than it normally does all year, with more likely. 15.2 inches of rain as of yesterday is already above our annual average of 14.48 inches.” (There’s a paywall, so I won’t link to it, but I got that via emailed headlines.)

Then there was this little number featured yesterday on Out There Colorado: “Colorado free of ‘abnormal dryness’ for first time in 1,452 days.” I’m not sure what torques me more: the fact that Disappointment Valley – heck, all of Southwest Colorado – actually IS part of Colorado, so please recognize us, or the fact that, with 1.67 inches of rain since April (ask me how I know, then see above), IT IS ABNORMALLY DRY IN THIS PART OF COLORADO. Snow on the mountain peaks does not translate to water NOT on the ground, growing plants.

I know “most of Colorado” is Denver/Front Range (according to those who live there), but I’m having a bit of a hard time generating any all-state loyalty when Denver, with its 15 inches of rain for the year, is at the same level of “free of ‘abnormal dryness'” as the powers that be (who, exactly?!) claim that we, over here in this corner of Colorado – yes, still Colorado – happen to be experiencing.

Here’s the link to the U.S. Drought Monitor’s map of all of Colorado (!), showing how wonderfully free of drought – and/or “abnormal dryness” – we all joyfully are.

Nothing is *normal* anymore, but just above an inch and a half of moisture in more than three months ain’t normal, folks. Not even in this corner of Colorado.

Day after day of red-flag warnings and fire-weather warnings ought to prove that, if the lack of rain doesn’t.

We’re beyond ready for monsoons rains … heck, ANY rains. My level of drought worry is pretty normal – it’s a usual state of affairs for this dry corner of Colorado. … Maybe that’s what *they* mean? We’re always dry, so what does it matter that we’re REALLY DRY?!

In good news, the mustangs are doing quite well, even down to one pond of water and scattered seeps in arroyo bottoms, because our excellent BLM folks have had the foresight to scatter water catchments throughout Spring Creek Basin. Humans worry; wild horses don’t.

Alegre and Maia, napping on a hot evening – semi-cooled by wind and a few generous clouds – in the company of their band. Quiet moments, full of beauty.

When I was a kid, my grandma had a pony – half Welsh, half Quarter Horse – that all the cousins rode – some of them learning to ride on her. Despite her penchant for taking rookie riders under low-hanging branches (and even horse-savvy kids if you weren’t paying attention), she was beloved. My family even had her with us in Texas for a few years, and one of my favorite stories of my youth involves an early-morning (3 a.m.-early) escape from the house, riding her bareback around the pasture and returning from the barn to the house to my dad packing heat because he thought I was a horse thief when he saw the light from my flashlight scanning the barn and thought I was casing the joint (he’d awakened when he heard me open the screen door) … ! My mom’s first move was to check my bed and my brother’s. She found me missing and exhorted my dad “don’t you scare her!” … it was an interesting end to my wanderings! (I was around 10 years old.)

My interest in training horses might have started with this pony-girl. My brother and I liked to play “cowboys and Indians,” and I’d hoist him up behind me as we escaped the cowboys … and I’d practice riding under branches, hanging off her side as low as I could, to avoid the cavalrymen’s bullets, you know. As much as she liked trying to scrape kids off her back by going under low-hanging branches, she didn’t seem to like it when it wasn’t her idea! Without trying, I apparently cured her of that particular “vice.”

She was a chunky bay with a big white spot on one hip. Her name was Sparkle. She was born on the Fourth of July. She went back to Grandma’s and Grandpa’s in Ohio when we moved to Germany (courtesy of Uncle Sam), and she lived into her 30s.

Happy Independence Day! And here’s to all the little girls (and boys) and summer rides on their ponies. 🙂