

Flash and Juniper under a partial rainbow π Always the gold!
Next year, this date β Sept. 19 β will mark 20 years since I started documenting Spring Creek Basin’s mustangs.
TWENTY. YEARS.
Sometime next fall (I don’t remember that exact date now), I’ll mark *25* years since the first time I visited Spring Creek Basin β in the rain, in a van full of people I didn’t know, and we didn’t see horses because we never actually got *into* the basin (even if it had been dry, a van might not have been the best choice of vehicle?!). I went back soon after that by myself … and, well, now it’s been 24 years *this* fall. You know that saying “blood, sweat and tears”? Yeah … it’s been ALL of that … a whole lotta alla that.
That means this fall marks my 19th (today) and 24th anniversaries. I still find that pretty shocking to say out loud.
Two thousand seven was a roundup year in Spring Creek Basin. It was the third that decade (and we still had 2011 to come). BLM said the stallion known to most as Traveler (to me as Grey) would stay. They promised. … One guy broke that promise. … One guy made it right. Grey went to CaΓ±on City, and about a week after he had been removed, we brought him back to Southwest Colorado, where his two-week quarantine turned into three weeks (courtesy of the promise-breaker). Four weeks after he left Spring Creek Basin, David and Pati Temple returned Grey/Traveler to the basin, Pati opened the trailer door, and he returned to his wild life, where he lived until his passing a few years ago.

Photo print of Grey by Claude Steelman moments after he was released Sept. 19, 2007, into Spring Creek Basin
“He’ll never have a band again,” the BLM promise-breaker said dismissively at the time. Within a month and a half, Grey had a band again.
Grey’s Return Day was Sept. 19, 2007. After the pomp of Grey’s momentous release (a couple of other people also were there, including renowned Durango-based wildlife photographer Claude Steelman), I stayed in the basin to start documenting every mustang I found. It took three months of weekends. Nineteen wild and crazy β and now, immensely satisfying β years ago.

So today, I celebrate both the anniversary of Grey’s return and release and the day I started documenting my beloved mustangs, what has become the path of my heart through this lifetime.

My *wall of Grey*; photos of Grey by me circa 2003-2004? Gorgeous painting of Grey by talented Colorado artist Teresa Irick (@tiartcreations on Instagram) based on a photo by me
When I first started this mustang-advocacy journey, 20 years into the future felt like some random date that would never arrive. Now, wow.
I want to do something kinda fun to mark the occasion next year, and this is a head’s up. A few of you have read and commented and shared the mustangs for a lot of years now, and I’d like to send you each a photo print of the mustangs. I probably haven’t taken it yet, but I have a year (!), and I’ll let you choose. You might know who you are. π I thought I’d also ask readers β on that date, and don’t worry, I’ll remind ya’ll ahead of time β to leave a comment on that post, and I’ll put all your names in a hat and mix ’em all up, and I’ll have a mustang friend pick a name and send that person a pic, too. I want to celebrate YOU who support and love these mustangs, too! There also are a handful of people who have been with me for long years on this mustang journey, and I want to recognize them, too (more about them next year).

Hollywood and his mares, 2019; Hollywood and Houdini are both gone now … Shane, Alegre and Maia are still together
When you’re starting a thing, you never know where that thing is going to go, how it’s going to go, how long it’ll go on. When you have a burning desire to do something strong, something worthwhile, again, you just never know. That’s the future. … That’s LIFE.
So many people have had a hand (even just some fingers) in the accomplishments realized for bettering the management and preservation of Spring Creek Basin’s mustangs, and I can’t even imagine (and I don’t wanna) what path my life would have followed if I hadn’t discovered this herd and all the amazing people I’ve met along the way. We’ve all shared something: love of horses. Love of WILD horses. Love of mustangs.
Remember that promise-breaker? I realized several years ago that I’m *grateful* to him. I definitely couldn’t see it at the time of what felt like deep betrayal by the system, but if not for that guy, would my Irish stubbornness have come to the fore and would I have dug my boots and heart so deep into ground I’d never known but has become my rooted ground?? As I said: *grateful*.

Winona with sons Cheveyo and Lyra; Lyra is gone now, and Cheveyo is a band stallion; Winona, of course, is one of our wise ones
And you know what? Holy … horse. π Spring Creek Basin Herd Management Area today is one of the best managed herds in the country (if not the best? forgive me a tiny bit of bias, please, but I don’t know of any others quite like ours). I am so grateful to the BLM folks at Tres Rios Field Office who made that happen and continue to work with our shared goal in mind.
Because we shared a dream and a goal and got to work doing it, not sitting by waiting for someone else to come along and dig in and get ‘er done. I sure didn’t start that dream for Spring Creek Basin, but I tip my visor to those who did … those who welcomed me to the fold so I could join the journey to the goal. And in that time, we have gotten done EVERYTHING we’ve aimed to achieve … bar one that we haven’t gone full force on, and that’s in the hands of bureaucrats, really, which is unfortunate, but it’s still possible.

Comanche’s band in the dust of early summer, 2020
I’ll probably (of course I will) write another long-winded post about this on my actual 20th anniversary, but on this, my 19th, *thank you* to every single person who has given even the tiniest bit of love to Spring Creek Basin’s mustangs. My love and gratitude to each one of you.
And hang on for (at least!) another year, with the mustangs and me, to celebrate the big 2-0. π No worries: The 20th won’t be anywhere close to the end. To paraphrase something I heard someone say someone told him: I will continue to make as positive an impact as I can in all the time I’m given in and for Spring Creek Basin and its mustangs.
I’m so glad you’re here, with us.
*Grateful*

Comanche’s band, under the rainbow, 2020; Comanche also is gone now

This happened late Tuesday evening in Spring Creek Basin. Wowza. Not the boldest rainbow ever, and the pic doesn’t do justice to the view, but it was pure magic. … Yes, it “sprinkled” over that part of the basin; I think I got hit by four, maybe five drops. Sure was pretty. π

This little fellow or gal scrambled into the middle of a four-wing saltbush (I think? I didn’t stop to ID it at the time). Very shy but maybe one of the bigger horned lizards I’ve seen β and certainly recently. Probably about the size/length of the palm of my hand. I think each individual is different with its coloration/patterns, too. Check out the cool yellowish spots on the dorsal side of this one; they made me think of a butterfly’s markings, so they might be to deter predators?

I had just walked back up the hill to the road from visiting with a couple of bands when the sun sank into a low cloud right above the horizon, and I thought (silly me!) that was sunset. … But THEN … the sun found a sliver of a break between cloud and horizon and sent its good-night-world light across Spring Creek Basin. See the partial rainbow at nearly center over Round Top in the low distance? And if you look closely, there’s a band of horses (anOTHER) band of horses) that appeared walking west across the northern base of what I call the east twin butte at lower right.
Note to self: The light’s not done till it’s DONE.
Not much of a theme to the post today … just a couple of glimpses of Spring Creek Basin this past weekend. π
We don’t do things by halves here in Colorado.
Smoke from wildfires? Unfortunately.
Spectacular sky from incoming storm days later? You betcha.

From Spring Creek Basin’s western rimrock boundary looking southeast at the very end of yesterday.

Looking east from the same place. The storm was to the north β our left as we’re looking out over the basin here.
One of the most spectacular jags of lightning I’ve ever seen lit up that northern sky (not close, not nearly far enough away), and I took that as my sign to hit the road, which was still a bit of a hike down to the right. As I headed down the hill, so did the ponies I’d been visiting with. No fools, they (or me!).

Note the slight rainbow at far right, looking pretty much straight southeast up-valley Disappointment. Familiar icons at far left make up Spring Creek Basin’s eastern horizon.
If it looks wet, it was. Give or take (thanks for the *give*, Mz Nature!), Disappointment Valley got half an inch of rain. The great thing was that it kept coming. … The sunshine would break through … then another wave of rain would pass through … then the sunshine would break through … then another wave would pass through.
Much needed; much gratitude!
We got rain. π
Later, as the sky was clearing, while waves of rain were still pushing across Disappointment Valley, the magic appeared:


The wide, wide, super-wide views. Even with my phone, I had to go wiiiiiide to get the entire rainbow β and its double β in view.

My unicorn (otherwise known as Winona). π



Yesterday might have been April Fools’ Day, but the magic was real! SO incredibly thankful for the rain (very light but most of the day … and after dark again). The world instantly looks greener.
We rarely get morning rainbows; we rarely get morning rain (and even more rarely with sunshine).
Along with a lot of rain the last few days (about 2.56″), we’ve had a lot of sunshine.
This IS Colorado, after all!

Yeah, so THIS happened yesterday morning!

The cottonwoods along Disappointment Creek are starting to glow gold. And yes, it was sprinkling through the sunshine, which brought the magic. (The above pix are looking west; sun rising behind me above the rain clouds.)

Wonder what it looked like back to the east? Here ya go! A lot different, eh? The sun was rising to upper right. This is Disappointment Road/Road 19Q looking toward Spring Creek Basin (not the road TO the basin).

Now I’m at 19Q looking west up Road K20W (not to be confused with K20E(ast) to Spring Creek Basin).
The sign struck me as funny under the rainbow. I mean, really, do you need a destination when the treasure is right in front of you??

Here we are at Road K20E looking eastish/southeastish toward Spring Creek Basin as the storm was passing to the north. (Sorry about the crazy glare-arrow; my phone’s camera lens is cracked.) Don’t make the mistake of driving this road for at least a few days! The cottonwoods at right line Disappointment Creek, which, yep, was running!

The rainbow (at least the main one) lasted somewhat longer than 30 minutes?!
It.
Was.
EXCEPTIONAL!
And when it finally faded, little curtains of rain were still moving south to north across the eastern(ish) part of the valley.
A person can never have too much magic in their lives. π
Don’t hate me for making up spectacular words to match the gorgeousity of the magic scenery, painted by Mother Nature. … Anyone would (and should) do it. π
(And yes, I did get semi-soaked!)

“It won’t rain.”

The rain came from behind-ish me (southish), and though it lasted (at a guess) less than five minutes, it soaked my right pant leg and right shoulder/arm and left water dripping down my leg inside my pants (!). These two pix (above) are looking north as the rain has mostly passed over me and is continuing north.

From the same spot as the first two pix, looking now eastish, I watched the moon rise over Temple Butte (promontory) and McKenna Peak (pyramid).

The moon was still barely visible when the light hit the passing rain and formed the prism, but while trying to decide between my phone and big camera, I think I missed it before it rose into the clouds (argh!).
With more dark clouds rising from the south and mustangs mostly far and scattered across the northern part of the basin, I decided to return another day. … (Note: It’s not a good idea to go into the basin if it’s going to rain. The road can get spectacularly bad when really, really, super wet.)

Wellllllll (a friend and a new friend will understand that heavily accented word π ) … when your gut tells you to turn around and make for the place where the rainbow will align with the pot of gold you know to be there (if you know, you know), be like Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and pay attention to your gut!

I stood in the sunshine along Disappointment Road while the second wave of rain passed from south to north across Spring Creek Basin (the rimrocks are Spring Creek Basin’s western boundary; the basin stretches away to the east in the northeasternish part of Disappointment Valley).

And the spectacularity JUST. GOT. BETTER.

End to end under the powerlines.

Temple Butte is visible again as the storm moves north.

This is NOT part of the original/above rainbows; it was a newly formed prism as the rain continued to pass and clear and the sun found space beneath the clouds above the western horizon. This stretch of Disappointment Road goes straight east.
After dark, we got yet another little wave of the good rain stuff. *Sigh of contentment*.
Maybe more overnight and in the morning. (Fingers and toes all crossed!)
I mean … RIGHT?! π Magic, folks. Pure magic. No artificial ingredients added. π
The mustangs don’t *always* cooperate when spectacular things are happening on the horizon. Posing really isn’t their jam (though they sometimes do it very well, indeed). However, although there are no mustangs in these pix, I decided they showed off the gorgeousity of Spring Creek Basin to such a degree that they stand on their own (and there *were* mustangs nearby; you just have to take my word for it!).
The rainbow Sunday evening was faint … and then it was BRIGHT. Never more than that little section, but wowza. Every strand of color was bright and clear and distinct:

That extreme brightness didn’t last very long. All I did when processing was to add a touch of sharpening. (I mean, really, how can you improve on that with a mere computer?!)
Then, last night, as I was leaving the basin, this interesting light-prism phenomenon, in nearly the same area of sky:

Mother Nature is booming in the high country with her annual aspen show, but she apparently didn’t want us in dry, brown Disappointment Valley to feel left out. π
We are grateful!