Handsome quick pose

11 02 2026

Quiet Tenaz strikes his *wild stallion* pose.

I saw him just as he stepped into position, and I snapped about four pix … and just as I shifted to the right to try to get more of the mountains (visible at far left) in the frame, he returned to quiet grazing mode. πŸ™‚





Beautiful dry

9 02 2026

This was at least a 57-degree day in still-early February. The temp has been as high as 65 – in still-early February.

Buckeye and the mustangs and all of us are looking for rain – hopefully!!! – the end of this week!





Snow so close

8 02 2026

Not super close, of course. That snow, on those mountains, is in Utah. It doesn’t flow to Disappointment Valley; not even Disappointment Creek (which is still dry and isn’t likely to flow much this year) flows into Spring Creek Basin. We need snow (or rain, at this point, we are NOT picky) to fall IN/ALL OVER/ON Spring Creek Basin (and greater Disappointment Valley … OK, the entire Western Slope of Colorado … all right, really, all of THE WEST).

The optimistic forecast continues its slide until you wonder why the forecasters bothered teasing us at all. … It changes about every five minutes, and any possible/potential moisture is close to a week out anyway (it continues to slide in delays, too).

Terra enjoyed her nap a couple of weeks ago with that beautiful background. Then life got busy and I nearly forgot about that beautiful day with her band.





All the way there

2 02 2026

See ’em? πŸ™‚ Look for the white spot, above the ridge of rimrocks … then note the dark spots (that aren’t trees) spread out to the left.

That’s Temple’s and Madison’s group. Out of sight to the right (northish) is Filly Peak and the main interior of (and main entrance to) Spring Creek Basin. FROM that interior, where I’d been 15 or 20 minutes earlier, I couldn’t see the mustangs from the other side of Filly Peak (familiar visitors will know that the road runs along the north/northeastish side of Filly Peak). But I saw Buckeye’s, which led me to leave the interior, drive out and around and hike up what I call corral hill, which is where I was when I took this pic, looking northwestish toward Utah’s La Sal Mountains. This is one of my favorite views in the basin (*note: like mustangs, you can’t have just one *favorite* view?!?!). And then I spotted the ponies. You couldn’t have seen them at all from the interior road, but they’re no more than a 15-or-so-minute walk from that road. From this vantage, though, Buckeye’s were less than five minutes below me back to the right(ish).

In addition to wanting to see Buckeye’s band, I hoofed it up the hill to try to catch this rising before it got too high:

This is what Google AI has to say about the February full moon (it’s actually full on Sunday, Feb. 1):

The February full moon is most commonly known as the Full Snow Moon because February typically brings the heaviest snowfalls of the year in North America. Other traditional names, often rooted in Native American, Colonial American, and European traditions, include the Hunger Moon, Bear Moon, and Eagle Moon. 

Key Facts About February’s Moon:

  • Alternative Names: According to The Old Farmer’s Almanac, other names include the Bald Eagle Moon (Cree), Bear Moon (Ojibwe), and Raccoon Moon (Dakota).
  • Significance: It reflects a time of cold, deep winter, limited food sources, and the need for endurance.
  • 2026 Timing: The 2026 Full Snow Moon peaks on February 1 at 5:09 p.m. EST.Β 

Other, less common names for this lunar cycle include the Wind Strong Moon (Pueblo) and the Goose Moon (Haida).

***

Yes, I almost did fall off my chair laughing when I read that the February full moon is “most commonly known as the ‘Full Snow Moon.'” I mean, really? πŸ™‚ Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Not to mention arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! If you look really closely, you can see some lingering patches of snow in the above pic, and that’s several layers (what I like most about the pic) rising to the final ridge, which is actually outside/beyond Spring Creek Basin, but you’ve gotta look *really* hard.

The first layer of grey Mancos shale is the south end of what I call bachelor ridge, then the sandstoney-topped mesa known as Knife Edge, then the actual piΓ±on-juniper-topped ridge that is a north/northeastish boundary ridge of the basin, then the ridge with its old burn scar(s) most commonly and easily accessed from Dry Creek Basin (can you imagine anyone calling Dry Creek Basin “Dry Creek” like some people refer to Spring Creek Basin as “Spring Creek” (which, as we all know, with its tributary arroyos, drains Spring Creek *Basin*)? (how’s that for a whole lotta parentheses?? :))).

How about a new name this year (which may or may not echo Februarys past … and presage Februarys future): Deep-Anxiety-Inducing No-Snow Moon? Bummer.

But to end on a happy note, another glimpse of the ponies on the “bench”:

Let alone the wild ones, how ’bout THEM layers? πŸ™‚ Interestingly (?), the part(s) that look like people’s idea of Utah are in Colorado, and the parts that look like people’s idea of Colorado are in Utah. Yay, Southwest! πŸ™‚





It’s all there

28 01 2026

See the eagle? πŸ™‚





On the upside

23 01 2026

The weather is *starting* to look as though it’s changing, hopefully for the positive, which is – *crossing everything that can be crossed* – “AM snow showers” Saturday. The percentage chance drops a bit more every time I look at the forecast, but it’s still there. … Surely that means something??

All dances, wishes, prayers and hopes accepted!





Deep wisdom

15 01 2026

Kind-eyed Seneca indulges me with a look while her band mates browse back (way back!) at the end of last year and way back deep in Spring Creek Basin.





A wow moment

8 01 2026

Question: Is Mysterium posing, or is she alert to something?

Hint: She does love her naps, when it might look like she’s “posing,” but she really doesn’t do posing. πŸ™‚

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!?!?!!!!

I was sitting on the ground, lens trained on some horses, when I heard them spook and looked up to see that something had caught their attention. THEY didn’t go far at all (more a spook-in-place kind of thing), and then I saw a flash of moving-red … FOX! Wow. It must have been in one of the little/shallow curvy arroyos nearby, and I’m not sure what spooked IT. I must have walked semi-past it earlier to go uphill of where the horses were (note the view beyond Mysterium!).

Unfortunately, there was a tree between us, and then it disappeared into one of the drainage folds … and when I caught sight of it next, it was nearly over the ridge. I wish it had stopped to give us a quick look, but nope.

Wowowowowow! I think the mustangs were just as thrilled (OK, interested) as I was. I doubt they see many flashy red foxes around. (We weren’t super far from where I found the fox last year, but we weren’t close, either. I don’t know what kind of territory a fox covers?)





Recap of 2025

31 12 2025

To remember how I did this post last year, I had to go all the way back to Valentine’s Day to find the post recapping the previous year (2024, then) in images. This year (for 2025), I’m happy to announce that for once, though I procrastinated, it wasn’t THAT long, and it was in plenty of time (OK, one day to spare) to make the Dec. 31 deadline.

Deep breath: This was a hard year. Last winter was rough (read: bad dry), which meant the rest of the year was rough (read: really bad horrible awful dry) in terms of drought. Monsoons didn’t hit their stride over Southwest Colorado, so we didn’t get much rain, either. Federal employees were hard hit, too, and one of our young BLM’ers was illegally fired from the new job he loved.

But we also had some good-news happenings: Thankfully, he was reinstated, and we have a strong range team in Ryan, Anton and Laura. We got some new signs installed, including the replacement of the old, sun-bleached, weather-beaten interpretive sign for the new information “kiosk” that greets visitors upon entering Spring Creek Basin. Fertility control (native PZP) continues to be an extraordinary benefit to our herd in terms of management and keeping roundups and removals at bay.

In wider Colorado mustang news, the BLM short-term holding facility at the CaΓ±on City prison complex closed in November, BLM and Colorado Department of Corrections being unable to reach a contract agreement. That’s not-great news in terms of uncertainty for rounded up and removed Colorado mustangs. Where will they go? In semi-balanced decent news (?), all of the Colorado mustangs that were in holding there (about 100 at the time) were adopted or went to private sanctuary or are currently in foster situations for a planned adoption in March (and that all happened despite federal employees, including BLM’ers, being out of work (or working without pay) because of the government shutdown).

What follows is a pic from each month of the past year and a bit of reminiscence of what was happening when I captured the image of a mustang or mustangs. Many of these pix have been featured previously on the blog; some haven’t. If you make it to the end, there’s a bonus pic … one of my favorite of the past year.

This is one of my very most favorite pix of the entire year. I love it so much, it’s the background image on my computer. I’m aware that I likely post a lot of images of Buckeye’s family; you won’t be surprised to know that they’re among my most favorite mustangs. I considered this image as the *bonus* image … but it was one wildly beautiful day of snow (well, I was out with the horses, watching the snow coming for at least two hours before it finally reached us), and it didn’t match the otherwise very dry *year*. … So it gets the January title.

Did I say that I love Buckeye’s family? You can forgive me for singling them out, right? The three mares weren’t born here, but gosh, they are treasures from our sister herd in Sand Wash Basin, and I’m so grateful that we have them. And yes, that was February. Utah’s La Sal Mountains may not have been the *closest* snow, but we sure didn’t have much.

March is still fuzzy-coat weather with signs of approaching spring, especially in the high desert of Southwest Colorado. Fortunately, we had ponds early in the year. They’d all go dry before some rain this past fall put water back in a couple of them, including the one pictured above with Chipeta. This pond is nicely full currently – and has mustangs taking advantage of its water.

April found Sundance not far from the pond pictured above, and he still had his band at that time. Later in the year, he lost them, and he’s been by himself since then. He has wandered a bit, following vegetation and available water. The stately ol’ guy is still around … I see him now and then, napping in the sunshine or grazing on the side of a ridge.

This wasn’t especially the best pic I took in May, but I love both the perspective and the sort of inside joke that Cassidy Rain always likes to be the farthest away from the two-legged. That day was a pretty warm one, and the band was in an area of basin where I rarely find them. It’s not a place with a lot of trees (in fact, there are very few), but they had found a couple, and were comfortable together in the shade near sunset.

My best boy Storm made a brief appearance in the northern part of the basin in June … one of the first times I’d seen him since he’d lost his band the previous autumn. Bittersweet. I haven’t seen him since about July, when he was at a water source with another band as I was trying to shoot the rising moon.

Ah, July, the month the Deer Creek Fire at the base of Utah’s La Sal Mountains sparked. It wasn’t the biggest wildfire of the season, and it wasn’t even the biggest with smoke visible from Spring Creek Basin and Disappointment Valley, but it was uncomfortably close to home. It was a reminder (as if we need any more) that it’s hotter and dryer out there, and we all need to be super aware and careful.

Fortunately, the mustangs live in the moment (while the humans obsess over the wildfire updates), and they still enjoyed peaceful days such as this: Three mares content with their world and each other.

Finally, as summer gave way to fall, Mother Nature cried her best tears and filled some ponds for the mustangs. THAT brought huge relief to us all (if I may speak for my four-legged friends as well as myself). Interestingly, visible at upper left in this image is Benchmark Lookout, a U.S. Forest Service wildfire-watch tower staffed during the critical seasons of the year (which includes September). In this backcountry, we are massively grateful for those who watch for and provide critical information about wildfires, as well as those who work to contain them, allowing them to provide some benefit in some cases while trying to keep property and lives intact.

It might be about now in the list that you’re thinking, “for talking about dry it was, she sure included a lot of pix of ponds.” It’s not because we had so much water; it’s because we’re massively grateful for the water we had.

There’s no water in this image – and it was November, before snow graced the peaks on our northwestern horizon – but the ponies are lined out on their way out to graze after drinking at a little place I call the marsh. This is post-sunset, but wow was it gorgeous under the autumn light. … And it’s not UNgorgeous at blue hour.

You’ve just seen this image of Temple with Temple (yes, the same) Butte and McKenna Peak in the background under a stream of stormy-looking (they didn’t produce a drop over us) clouds. I decided not to choose a pic from the bit of snow we got at the very beginning of December because the above is what we saw the whole rest of the month. The weather has been warm and dry … and that’s awfully nice for getting around and playing outdoors (60s! in Colorado!! in December!!?!) … but if things don’t change in the next few months, I’m going to be singing the same ol’ why-won’t-it-snow song that seems to be stuck on repeat.

And your bonus:

This was an evening in June. Nobody wanted to pose much, and I was going bananas, trying to get somebody – anybody – in front of that background in that subtle, delicious light. Finally, this young stallion obliged. And it seems to sum things up a bit: Hot this year? Yes. Dry? Gosh, yeah. Anxiety-inducing? Pretty much like always … with an extra edge. But! Beautiful, peaceful, a place of escape from the world’s ills (at least the headline type). Kind of a promise that it’s there … out there … and sometimes we don’t have to search all that far for it.

And there you (kinda) have it: 2025 in the rearview. It’s always hard to select just one pic for each month (plus a bonus!), but I hope you enjoyed this little recap.

In best-of-all news, I spent a lot of time (again) with my beloved mustangs in the best place on Earth (in my ever-so-humble opinion). πŸ™‚

And close to that is my gratitude for all of you readers who follow the mustangs and our pictorial journal of peaceful, wild, beautiful life here in Spring Creek Basin. Thank you so much, and I hope you all have a peaceful, wild, beautiful 2026 (with lots more moisture!!!!!!!!!!!!!)!

Be kind to each other! πŸ™‚





Almost there

30 12 2025

I don’t know about ya’ll, but I’m pretty sure that I only just got used to 2025 being, well, 2025. And I’m also pretty sure that I feel pretty much the same just about every year as one year winds down and another one gets ready to kick off.

Fortunately, the only thing that changes is the light on the land and where the wild ponies might be found on the next adventure. (OK, so that’s not really true, but wouldn’t it be nice?) Pic above from Christmas Day, which already feels about 365 days ago (!).

Thanks for following these amazing mustangs. We’re all grateful for your interest! πŸ™‚