The comments from my last post got me to thinking how hard it is to capture "the moment" of milling through a hundred and thirty head of wild mustangs, much of the time within five or six feet of some of them. Not all will be so trusting but over the years most have learned to accept my presence in their world. There is a risk in being surrounded by a band of thousand pound pieces of horse flesh that are known to explode in every direction at the slightest different little noise. They are so use to getting out of the way of those old studs, that they don't bother looking where they are headed at a high rate of speed. They only run a few feet before they realize the danger has past and all is well.
I found 136 head on the Pony Express Trail Road just before I got to Simpson Spring. It's not often I found them this far south, but was happy to find them at all.
Friendly Fred and his nephew, Peanut are hanging out together and making peace.
Fred's mother and the band Dad.
Not everyone is in a peaceful state of mind. I'd guess someone got into the wrong territory.
Pictures don't show that there are mustangs on all four sides.
Gypsy's fifth colt. He's growing up to be a fine looking young man, and not prone to cause trouble.
Peanut is making the rounds, making friends with all the youngsters.
When someone tipped my chair over, there was a stampede for a few feet. I'm glad I wasn't in the chair.
The band moved down to the Simpson Spring pond. It was hot and they got pretty docile. They wouldn't hardly move out of my way when I tried to walk through them.
This old boy laid his ears back when I ask him to move a few feet. However I wasn't worried, I was packin my .357. I was in a little bit of a panic when I got home and found I'd forgot to load it.
I was happy to see this old white stud made it through the winter. He walks slower than he use to, and keeps on the outskirts of the band. As late as it was, I though I might hear a coyote howl, but no such luck. Two hours and I'll be home.
This post is the result of a "pat on the head" from Faster Horses, Big Muddy, MRJ and Burnt. Thanks for your support.
I found 136 head on the Pony Express Trail Road just before I got to Simpson Spring. It's not often I found them this far south, but was happy to find them at all.
Friendly Fred and his nephew, Peanut are hanging out together and making peace.
Fred's mother and the band Dad.
Not everyone is in a peaceful state of mind. I'd guess someone got into the wrong territory.
Pictures don't show that there are mustangs on all four sides.
Gypsy's fifth colt. He's growing up to be a fine looking young man, and not prone to cause trouble.
Peanut is making the rounds, making friends with all the youngsters.
When someone tipped my chair over, there was a stampede for a few feet. I'm glad I wasn't in the chair.
The band moved down to the Simpson Spring pond. It was hot and they got pretty docile. They wouldn't hardly move out of my way when I tried to walk through them.
This old boy laid his ears back when I ask him to move a few feet. However I wasn't worried, I was packin my .357. I was in a little bit of a panic when I got home and found I'd forgot to load it.
I was happy to see this old white stud made it through the winter. He walks slower than he use to, and keeps on the outskirts of the band. As late as it was, I though I might hear a coyote howl, but no such luck. Two hours and I'll be home.
This post is the result of a "pat on the head" from Faster Horses, Big Muddy, MRJ and Burnt. Thanks for your support.
