july 2012
magazine
Our July Buckle Bunny
Michelle Anthony En Fuego in the Desert
A God Thing My Wild Path to the Wild Ones Mustang #94549777
www.rosenthalestatewines.com
Photo courtesy of Bristol MacDonald
www.bristolmacdonaldequinephotography.com
FEATURES 8 Herd roun’ the waterin’ trough...Calamity 10 My Wild Path to the Wild Ones...Tom Doody 22 Viva Las Vega, Serengeti in Nevada...Arlene Gawne 30 A God Thing...Joe Camp 34 Our July Buckle Bunny…Michelle Anthony 42 In the Pink...Buckaroo John Brand 46 Mustang #95459777...Amy Dedafoe 48 Mustang Hoofbeats...Judy Wrangler 60 Good Reads...Carol Upton 61 A Fish Story...Jeff Hildebrandt 62 Mercantile Madness
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Publisher Equine Angle Marketing & Publicity California, USA
Editor in Chief ~ Director “Calamity” Cate Crismani
Contributing “Wriders” Buckaroo John Brand * Joe Camp * Cate Crismani Amy Dedafoe * Tom Doody * Arlene Gawne Jeff Hildebrandt * Carol Upton * Judy Wrangler
Buckle Bunny Cover/Pictorial Photographer Anne Felipe Contributing Photographers Christopher Ameruoso * Kathleen Camp * Arlene Gawne Tom Doody * Becky Pearman * Genie Stewart-Spears
Advertising Posse Rich Richardson 760.696.6304 “Calamity” Cate Crismani 818.642.4764
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herd roun’ the waterin’ trough From the desk of Calamity Cate Howdy Amigos, Another month, another issue, new stories. The slaughter war on horses is burning hot as Texas jumps in to support opening slaughter plants for horses there. Can you believe it, the state with the most horses and horse owners takes this route? Yeah, I can believe it too cause the horse industry is a big money maker and if you can’t pull it out of one horse, slaughter it and get another or continue the incessant breeding. When will the day come that humans realize we are part of the planet and the living creatures on it. We are here to protect them...Heck we kill enough animals to eat: pigs, cows, calves, chickens, hens and the list goes on. Don’t we have enough to eat and enough blood on our hands? Are we not intelligent enough in our collective effort and reasoning to figure out a solution that doesn’t include the almighty dollar? Or murder? Apparently not. My heart is heavy. My disgust is more so. But more importantly I am ashamed...ashamed to be part of the species human. In this issue meet some of the people who are making a difference to one horse. If we all made a difference for one horse, that would be millions of horses lives saved to live safely. We can not simply murder living things because they no longer pay there way or fit into our “budget”...you made a commitment when you got your horse to give him a good, loving, healthy life. Don’t fail him. Because in doing so you fail yourself and the human race. Besos Calamity
www.buckarooleather.com
My Wild Path to the Wild Ones ...Tom Doody For many photographers, the path to their chosen subject matter is often circuitous; an indirect journey that encompasses a variety of genres before settling on one that they can feel passionate for. The path that drew Tom Doody to photographing wild mustangs was circuitous indeed. Beginning in the early 80’s with Polaroid studies of street people and indigents captured on the streets of Chicago, his home town, to macro florals, Mayan ruins and crawls through the cemeteries of Latin America. Doody spent the eighties and nineties representing some of America’s top fashion, entertainment and media brands via his Chicagobased public relations firm, Tom Doody & Associates but had dreams of being behind the lens. In 2002, Doody decided to turn his dream into reality and the impetus was a winning blackjack streak in Las Vegas. He recalls the experience with a gleam in his eye, “This was still the advent of digital and I had been toying with the idea of acquiring some pro equipment and immersing myself in photography”, says Doody. “I had been playing cards all night and was up a couple of grand, so I pushed it all out on the table and told myself if I won the hand, I was going to go out the next day and buy a good camera body and glass. I drew two aces, doubled down and got blackjack with both of them. I cashed out and was at the camera store the next day when it opened.”
While on honeymoon in 2002 at the Blue Parrot, a small hotel and beach club in Playa del Carmen, Mexico, Tom and his wife Pamela made a spontaneous decision to unplug from their chaotic corporate lives and move to Mexico to operate the hotel and beach club where they had honeymooned. They spent the next nine years living on Mexico’s Caribbean coast and during that time Doody brought his technical skills up to speed with a natural talent for composing compelling images. Describing his learning process, he says, “After lots of trial and error over tens of thousands of frames, shooting everything and everybody in sight, I gradually gained the ability to coax the images that I visualized in my minds eye out of the camera.” In 2009, Tom and Pamela took up residence in a Malibu community that was surrounded by horse properties and horse people. Pamela soon acquired Tuxie, a 16.1 hand gelding and began training dressage, cross-country and stadium jumping. Although he had peripheral exposure to horses as a youngster, this was Tom’s first “up close and personal” experience with the equestrian world. I quickly found myself in the role of “horse husband,” supporting Pamela’s riding and doing “all of the stuff that comes with sharing one’s wife with a horse.”
Soon, he found himself taking on the photography for Pamela’s start-up equestrian apparel company, Horseworship, and shooting the events Pamela had begun competing in with Tuxie. “But for me, I wasn’t in ‘love’ with horses yet,” Doody quips, adding, “That would come later.” It was his exposure to the wild horses that really turned him into a horse lover. And, it was his experience with the wild horses at the Return to Freedom sanctuary in Lompoc, California that ignited his passion for equestrian photography. Doody says, “Pamela wanted to have a cause related element to her business and had selected Return to Freedom as the beneficiary to receive a percentage of the profits from the sale of her Horseworship tee-shirts. I agreed and thought it would be a good idea to get out their personally and become educated about what was happening to wild horses in the U.S. and what Return to Freedom was doing to address it.” Established in 1997 by Neda DeMayo, Return to Freedom provides a safe haven to nearly 200 wild horses and burros, recognizing that wild horses live in tightly bonded herd groups, while enhancing the human spirit through direct experience with the natural world.
Pamela’s interest in the sanctuary led Doody to enroll in a 5-day workshop with world-renowned equestrian photographers Tony Stromberg and Kimerlee Curyl at Return to Freedom. “It was Kimerlee and Tony’s technical mastery and incredible understanding of the horses that opened my eyes to the wonders of the wild horse world”, says Doody. While he had been exposed to domestic horses throughout his life, he was not prepared for what he was introduced to through the wild horses in the rolling hills of the sanctuary. Doody reflects on the experience, saying, “It was one thing to view the horses in their natural habitat, but it was quite another thing to experience being accepted by the herd and actually integrating into it. I was simply blown away being in the center of a herd of forty wild horses; it was one of the most gratifying experiences of my life.” One image, entitled “Blue Eye,” is a close up shot of a mustang with intense blue eyes using a Nikon 105mm Macro lens. He then processed the image in a way that he converted it to black and white with the exception of the blue eye, creating a surreal, highly emotive image. “I always strive to the subject’s eye as the point of focus in my photos, whether I’m shooting people on the street or horses in the wild. For me, the magic is to capture the second when there is interaction between myself and the subject.”
While some of the images capture the traditional beauty of the horses, others evoke the story of a hard life and the ultimate survival of these majestic animals. Many of Doody’s images are shot in fog and capture the horses in a stark white background, they seem to have been shot in a studio, rather than in the wild. Describing his processing choices, Doody says, “ Although there can be beautiful colorations to the horses and their environment, I often find that the starkness of black and white communicates the stark reality of the severity of these horse’s lives and environment.” With estimates of the number of American wild horses left in their native environment hovering between 15-30,000, time is quickly running short if we are to preserve the legacy of wild horses in America. Copyright 2011 Tom Doody. All rights reserved.
Even today, the roundups and senseless confinement of wild horses by the Bureau of Land Management continue, diminishing the size of the herds and breaking apart family units. “After I had a chance to see these animals in the wild, interacting and caring for their young, I was struck by the fact that they don’t need us”, says Doody. “Although they have helped us to build this country and given us gifts that are beyond comprehension, we continue to take everything away from them and for absolutely no reason.” “ Many of us who are passionate about this issue fear that the fate of the wild horse will be a reflection of the fate of our country and ourselves.” Editor’s Note: Tom’s first wild horse photography exhibit is July 14 in Malibu, California. If you’re in town, come on by. See the invitation on page 21.
www.returntofreedom.org
Viva Las Vegas…Se
By Arlen Near the Las Vegas Strip, there’s a virtually undiscovered tourist attraction that could generate thousands of new jobs for struggling Nevada. Unfortunately, this Serengeti-like experience will not survive if the Federal Bureau of Land Management (BLM) and the US Forest Service (USFS) have their way. As gaming moves around the globe, economists advise Las Vegas to diversify its tourist draw. Shows, restaurants and glitter can be duplicated anywhere but no world city offers wild horses & burros in beautiful, iconic Western landscapes like Las Vegas has just 20 to 50 minutes from the Strip. If wild burros on Route 66 attract a half million people a year to tiny Oatman, Arizona, imagine the thousands of jobs that will be created by safari-style tours from Las Vegas where nearly 40 Million tourists visit each year. European, Asian, Latin and North American tourists will love seeing wild horses and burros exhibiting distinctly wild behaviors so close to the Strip, the world capital of indoor adventure. But our Federal agencies insist they are not in the ‘jobs business’ so BLM plans to remove over 80% of the horses and burros roaming near Las Vegas.
erengeti in Nevada
ne Gawne In late winter 2012/early 2013, they’ll spend over $300,000 on a helicopter roundup and leave only 63 to 93 horses and 101-192 burros in the 626,000 acres of the Spring Mountain Complex. How can a tour guide find only 1 horse per 6,946 to 10,254 acres of wilderness? That’s not good business for Las Vegas. Nor is it fair to thousands of American and International visitors who want the thrill of viewing freeroaming wild horses & burros. But there is an innovative solution to job creation versus the BLM/USFS management protocol. After years of protesting roundups, members of the Las Vegas group, America’s Wild Horse Advocates (AWHA), felt it was time for positive change by working with the BLM. In early 2012, they created the Spring Mountain Alliance, a 501(c) (3) non-profit, volunteer organization of concerned citizens, businesses and professionals to answer then BLM Director Bob Abbey’s 2011 challenge to volunteer groups “to help manage and sustain wild horse herds”.
No livestock graze on public land in the Spring Mountains east of Pahrump and west of Las Vegas, so the BLM and the Spring Mountain Alliance have a unique opportunity to experiment with innovative wild horse & burro management and tourism development. Using volunteer labor and expertise, the Alliance’s 6-point plan can be implemented at little or no cost to taxpayers. This public/private initiative will provide quality jobs by leveraging the existing resources of Vegas tourism stakeholders like hotels, tour companies, airlines, etc. BLM will be aided in its effort to perform its land management mission in a period of dwindling resources. The wild horses and burros will be sustained in natural family and bachelor groups in their native habitat. Over 1300 Alliance supporters – and growing – have asked the BLM to put a 3-year hold on removals of Wild Horses & Burros from the Spring Mountain Complex west of Las Vegas, so the Alliance volunteers can develop the following 6-point plan: Preserve stable family and bachelor bands that offer the most interesting behaviors for tourists yet control population growth by:
Identifying wild horses & burros by gender, age, birth, relationships and movement patterns to know what bands to protect and where BLM and the U.S. Forest Service currently do not allocate funds to this essential scientific work. Alliance volunteers have already identified 65% of Spring Mountain wild horses based on models from other states. Alliance volunteers will dart old and young mares and jennies with the 1year contraceptive PZP but mature mares ages 5-12 will be allowed to breed. PZP application costs are estimated to be $15,000- $17,000 the first year (including initial training, certification and equipment) and declining to 25% of that cost by the third year. A team of volunteers are ready for certification training by Dr. Jay Kirkpatrick of Billings Montana. If removal of some horses is necessary, Alliance volunteers will bait-trap a family band with food or water, remove some of the 1 to 2-year-olds that can be most easily trained and adopted locally, dart age-appropriate mares with PZP and release the rest of the family without much stress. Alliance volunteers will encourage local adoption of young horses through public awareness programs in local schools, equine newsletters, adoption festivals, etc. Alliance volunteers will conduct follow-up documentation of adopted wild horses & burros and share training experience via their website. The Alliance has already documented 25 local area adoptions mostly from the Red Rock Canyon roundups of 2002-2004.
Alliance volunteer work parties can improve public viewing and protect habitat by: Increasing and maintaining wildlife guzzlers throughout the Spring Mountain Complex just as hunter groups do for elk and deer; Fencing horses & burros from ecologically sensitive areas if identified as problem areas by biologists; Patrolling roads to teach tourists the correct ways of interacting with the wild ones. Currently Alliance volunteers monitor Cold Creek human/horse interaction on weekends to discourage illegal feeding and onroad photography. Enhancing prime horse & burro viewing areas with safe parking areas, interpretive boards and viewing hides where visitors can watch herd behavior above the reach of horses and burros. Tour companies, hotels, airlines, etc. may invest in the construction materials while Alliance volunteers contribute the labor. Work with BLM to improve the tour application and operation process by: Reducing the cost, difficulty and length of time that it takes for a tour company to obtain a permit; Develop reasonable standards for visitor distance from horses/burros, visitor areas of movement, and the general conduct of tour operators and the public. Assist private businesses to develop tours for overseas visitors and American families by: *Developing content for brochures on wild horse & burro behaviors that tour companies can print at their cost; *Maintain a tourist-friendly website, www.springmountainalliance.org,
that educates the public about interesting behaviors of Spring Mountain horses & burros; *Develop articles for domestic and international in-flight magazines, tourism magazines, travel boards, etc. that promote horse & burro tourism; *Training tour guides where to find wild bands of horses & burros as well as spotting birds and other local wildlife that will interest tourists. *Assist government agencies in developing stateof-the-art, multi-spectral camera census of the actual number of Wild Horses & Burros through private/ public partnerships with Homeland Security, NASA, or Department of Defense. For example, USFS has partnered with NASA using unmanned aircraft to spot forest fires. The unmanned drone center at Creech Air Force base, located just east of the Spring Mountains, may be able to help with financial assistance from prominent airlines like Southwest, Virgin Atlantic or British Airways. *Support regular, scientific analysis of the carrying capacity for all Spring Mountain wildlife including wild horses, burros, deer, elk, bighorn sheep, etc. because BLM/ USFS criteria for local water and forage use appear to be developed for different conditions in other states. A percentage of user fees charged to tour companies and donations from private stakeholders can be applied to scientific range analysis. Scholarships could be offered to graduate students from the University of Nevada Las Vegas (UNLV) to conduct detailed behavioral studies of wild horses and burros just as zebra have been studied in Africa. The Alliance’s 6-point plan is a win-win alternative: hundreds of thousands of visitors will be attracted to our ‘Serengeti in Las Vegas’ at little cost to taxpayers. However, BLM/USFS must be willing to experiment with an unconventional approach to wild horse & burro preservation. Otherwise the next BLM roundup will destroy potentially thousands of tourism jobs at a time of great need in Nevada. go to page 52
www.springmountainalliance.org
www.bristolmacdonaldequinephotography.com
Bristol MacDonald
A God By Joe
An excerpt from the forthcoming book “
www.thesoul Why this obsession with wild horses? It was all Cash’s fault. This sudden loss of my sanity and my life being in danger. But how can you not love Cash? The day he came into my life he swept me off my feet. He was on the cover of The Soul of a Horse and probably the reason it’s the only book I’ve ever had on a best seller list. One look into those big brown eyes and you’re done. Toast. Everybody says so. Yet all of this was clearly his fault. Just a few short months ago had anyone suggested that we adopt a wild mustang I would've asked what the lunatic was smoking. We had a whopping total of three years experience with horses, none of them wild. Wild as in horses who have never touched or willingly been touched by any human. If such a suggestion had occurred my response would've been easy. No. As in not now, not ever. God obviously knew this. And if you harbor the concept that God plays fair forget it. He recruited Cash. The nicest, sweetest, brightest, most polite, gentlemanly horse I’d ever met. The horse who not only taught us how to have meaningful relationships with horses but with people as well. The huge guy on four legs who taught us more about leadership, patience, and persistence than any twolegged ever had. The dear friend who quite simply changed my life when he said to me of his own free choice, I trust you. It all began with an odd phone call that sounded very much like a joke. There was a family herd of thirty horses from an expensive bloodline that the caller wanted us to adopt. Immediately. All thirty of them.I could only hear Kathleen’s side of the conversation but her face told me something very weird was going on.
Thing Camp
“Lessons from the Wild -The Soul of a Horse”
lofahorse.com “No, I’m sorry. I don’t care how valuable they are. We have no place to keep thirty horses. Nor could we afford to feed them.” There was a pause, then, “No we are not a non-profit.” “Are too,” I whispered. That wasn’t the intention of course. It’s just the way it is in the horse world. “Who told you that?” Kathleen asked into the phone. I found out later that the caller had somehow made contact with a friend of Kathleen’s mother who had told him that we knew everyone there was to know in the horse world. He should call us. He asked her to write down his phone number. Finally she did, along with his name. And she hung up. The man was looking for a tax write-off in exchange for giving the horses to a non-profit. The horses belonged to his wife who was now an invalid and could no longer care for them. They were being neglected because the man knew nothing whatsoever about horses. And he needed to move his wife to a place where she could get treatment. “What kind of horses?” I asked. “Polish Arabians.” The words caught in my throat. I tried to speak but couldn’t. “Polish Arabians?” I mouthed silently. Kathleen’s brow crinkled up in a knot. “Am I missing something?” “Cash is Polish Arabian,” I squeaked. “Or is supposed to have Polish Arabian blood.” “And?” “This guy is giving away thirty Cashes?” “I don’t think it works like that.” Kathleen was certain it all had to be some sort of scam. But I couldn’t turn it loose.
Were all Polish Arabians of Cash’s mindset, his personality? I was seriously bothered by the fact that thirty Cashes were being neglected. What if it wasn’t a scam? What if the lives of these thirty horses were at stake? “The man said there are twenty mares, most of them pregnant,” Kathleen said, “and if he can’t get a tax write-off he’s going to sell them all at auction.” “What?!” Selling at auction – not the high-end fancy ones, the one’s down at the local feedlots and fairgrounds – is usually for horses that can’t be sold anywhere else and all too often this means a trip to slaughter houses in Mexico and Canada. I went straight to the computer and sent an email with details and the man’s phone number to everyone I knew who had any connection to horse rescue. Karen Everhart of Rainbow Meadows Rescue Sanctuary responded and said if the man would give her control over the herd she would see that they were all adopted out to good homes and she would run the adoptions through Rainbow Meadows so the man could get his tax write-off. “Fantastic!” I said. “Wonderful.” Then a notion struck me. I turned to Kathleen. “What would you think about adopting one of the pregnant mares?” “We don’t need another horse.” “I know.” “We can’t afford another horse.” “I know.” “Much less two.” “I know. So what do you think?” “I think I’m really angry at you,” she said. We’re both beyond help. Even when we’re late for an appointment, we’ll pull over to the side of a road to watch a couple of foals romping in a pasture. We had talked about having a baby since the day we acquired our first mare. But fear of what could go wrong and our inexperience always talked us out of it. But another Cash? “Two Cashes,” Kathleen grumbled. “It would be a new learning experience.” “I know, I know,” she sighed. “One that we know nothing about. One that we’re afraid of. Yes I see where you’re going. An interesting journey for the next book.” go to page 54
En Fuego...Our July Buckle Bunny
Michelle Anthony Back by popular demand, our July 2009 Buckle Bunny, Michelle Anthony. Since that time, Michelle has continued to support the mustang cause and effort to preserve them in the wild and never misses an opportunity to tell others about their plight to remain free-roaming, wild horses. A descendent of Susan B. Anthony, Michelle is aware of the necessity to step up for what she believes in and make a difference. “My American heritage, love of horses and the Old West compels me to take a stand to save our mustangs. These mighty horses are a part of all our history and the current treatment of them is a sin.”, says Michelle, “Our country, and the world, is drenched with the blood of genocide through the ages and now, the same horrors are happening to our wild mustangs, horses and burros. We cannot let this happen” Since our last visit, Michelle has been modeling for Fila Sportswear and is the stunning “icon” for trueCOWBOYmagazine’s Apple iPhone app attracting so much attention the app is ranked #4 in popular downloads on the Apple iTunes news stand. Along with being an accomplished equestrian, Michelle is also a racehorse owner and takes an active role in placing her horses in new homes once they have finished their racing careers. A very necessary action these days with the looming threat of horse slaughter Our encore pictorial of our popular July Buckle Bunny, Ms. Michelle Anthony. Our gratitude, your viewing pleasure!
Shot on location at Lifesaver’s Wild Horse Rescue, Lancaster, California Photographed by Anne Felipe Creative Direction & styling by Cate Crismani
In the
By Buckaro If you were a woman in the Old West and suffering from menstrual pains you would reach for your bottle of "Lydia E. Pinkham Vegetable Compound." This herbal - alcoholic contained five herbs: Pleurisy root - which is a diaphoretic and antiinflammatory Life root - which is a traditional uterine tonic and anti-inflammatory Fenugreek - also an anti-inflammatory and antispasmodic. Unicorn root - which was used by several Native American tribes for uterine prolapse. Black cohosh - which is used for menopausal symptoms. And lets not forget a basic ingredient found in almost all patent medicines and tonics‌.drinking alcohol. (Which I believe is not an herb!) Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound was just one of the many patent medicines or elixirs of the Old West but her shrewd marketing made it one of the more successful. Lydia Estes Pinkham was born February 9, 1819 in Lynn Massachusetts. She was the tenth of twelve children born to William and Rebecca Estes. Her father was a wealthy "gentlemen farmer". Lydia was well educated and became a schoolteacher. She was married to Isaac Pinkham in 1843 and they had 4 children.
e Pink
oo John Brand In Lydia's time the medical profession was not reliable or trust worthy. Medicine and doctor services were also very expensive. So, like many women of her time she prepared her own home remedies. Her tonic for "female complaints" became very popular amongst her friends and neighbors. Many people believe that the recipe Lydia used for her "Vegetable Compound" was given to her husband as part of a payment for a debt. But, the ingredients she used in her tonic were fairly common knowledge to her. She is know to have owned and used a book called the John King's American Dispensary. In 1873 Lydia and her husband were in financial ruin. Her husband's health was poor and the family money had dwindled. In these hard times, Lydia would sometimes accept payment for her herbal tonic for "female complaints". In 1875, her son Daniel decided to turn the popular tonic into a family business. Prior to the success of the business, Lydia brewed her tonic on the stove in her kitchen. Now, the tonic was produced in a factory. Lydia answered all her customers’ questions and letters. She also wrote all of her own advertising copy for her tonic. Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound was mass marketed from 1876 on and was one of the best-known patent medicines of the 19th century. Lydia marketed directly to women. Her own face was on the bottle and Lydia liked to use the testimonies of the grateful women on her advertisements. She would also encourage women to write her with "female" questions and Lydia herself would be sure to answer them all.
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MUSTANG #95459777 By Amy Dedafoe I was very new to equines and had just met this horse, a wild mustang, a week earlier at the rescue where I volunteer, Save The Horses.org. He was rescued on July 1 2009 from the Bureau of Land Management. (BLM) He was brought in because he was found running loose in Floyd County in north Georgia. No one could catch him, and animal control considered shooting him, as he was getting hit by cars when he came out at night grazing along the road side. The devoted volunteers were able to safely capture him and bring him to the rescue barn and found him a stall, but so scared and quick, you could not catch or touch him in that stall. I met his eyes through the stall door as he peered through the boards. He was too short to get his head over the door, so all I could see were soft brown eyes that told me he needed someone in his life. I needed him in my life too. We were both scared, and well, a little lost. I spent time with him and he watched me. He watched every move I made and paid attention to every sound. I watched him move, and noticed that he had a nice little gait to his step. Someone told me he was a mustang and showed me the freeze mark on the left side of his neck. I had heard of mustangs before, but I really didn't know what they were or where they came from. I was intrigued, so I went home and got on the computer right away and Googled '"mustang". It sounded like mustangs were a hearty bunch with tough feet and an strong spirit. They were real survivors. I could learn a thing or two about surviving in this world too, so maybe we could help each other out.
I called the owner of the rescue, Cheryl Flanagan, and asked her if I could adopt this little mustang. She said "Sure! What are you going to call him?" I didn't hesitate when I said "Maverick". After all he had been through, that was the name for my tough little survivor. We started our journey together. He learned to trust me and I learned how to earn his trust. I recruited the help of a trainer, Ed Dabney. Ed had just picked up a mustang himself for the Extreme Mustang Makeover competition. He gave me some insight on mustangs and watched as I climbed aboard mine wondering when he would have to dial 911. Maverick was becoming a one-person horse and Ed helped me through our first rides together. When out on the trail I found that Maverick liked to run away with me. Actually, I think he completely forgot that I was on his back, and he just wanted to run...very fast. I will never forget the words from my veteran trainer "I guess you are going to have to learn how to ride a fast horse". That was an understatement as he watched me gallop around a field or his arena as I tried to get comfortable with this recently wild horse. I spent the next three months trying to slow Maverick down, and learned not to be in a hurry all the time. He has a very strong work ethic and is always looking for the next adventure to take. I talked to Ed about his personality and he thought an endurance ride would be a good job for Maverick. He recommended I prepare by completing the local trail - twice, and then we would be ready for a 25 miler. Twice! Good grief, it was all I could do to get through it once! go to page 64
Mustang Hoofbeats By Judy Wrangler
I remember the day I ran with them Red Rock’s most amazing feature. O’er the hill we came, and there they stood. These incredibly magnificent creatures. My sweet ole Arab ran into that herd Of palominos, buckskins, and bays. They scattered and scampered as we hung on, And ran with them quite a ways. Their hoof beats echoed off red sand walls, As the dust curled into the air. Their muscles tightened, their manes unfurled And their nostrils began to fl are. Now, this is their home after all, It was we who invaded their space. So is it any wonder that My ole Arab and I lost that race? The herd gathered up on a nearby hill, The stallion, his foals and mares. As my Arab and I walked quietly away, We were followed by their inquisitive stares.
I have returned to this spot many times since. In search of this remarkable breed Who for many centuries have been roaming this land, And running these hillsides so free. So, before it’s too late and they’re all gone Go out and watch the dance Of a foal at play and the smile within Which you might observe by chance. We humans could learn a valuable lesson About living with such dignity and grace. They show us no violence, prejudice or contempt As we trespass through this place. These are God’s creatures, not ours to control A gentle lot, proud and strong. And if you think that they don’t care You couldn’t be more wrong. They must stay free and majestic Not gathered up and put into stalls So the future can witness God’s miracle. Hoof beats echoed off red sand walls. Copyright 1999 Judy Wrangler. All rights reserved.
www.wildhorserescue.org
Serengeti From page 27
We have extraordinary wilderness in America and our Mustangs are the American equivalent of lions and elephants. If Third World Africa can save their wildlife for tourism and earn billions doing that, why can’t the American government preserve our wild Mustangs and historic burros for tourism? The public must turn these government agencies around. Want to help? Join the Alliance at http://springmountainalliance.org ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Thoughts from the author and Spring Mountain Alliance Director, Arlene Gawne. “I spent 12 years in the African bush photographing wildlife. Each year I returned from Africa and wondered why Americans were busy removing their wild horses and burros instead of driving tourism to them on the iconic Western landscapes? Visitors pay high tour prices in Africa to see zebra stallions fighting for dominance, lead females disciplining youngsters and a stallion fending off unsuitable suitors for his daughters. We once had the same fascinating behavior in Red Rock Canyon, just 20 minutes from the Las Vegas Strip. Then the family and bachelor bands were virtually zeroed-out by a 2002 BLM roundup. Several years of drought weakened the horses but in Africa parks, wells provide year-around water for wildlife. The BLM said it couldn’t be done. Why not? When you look at these beautiful wild horses, you have to ask yourself why was this stunning tourist draw taken from Southern Nevada? BLM/ USFS’s management approach just doesn’t make sense. We can’t afford their 1900’s thinking. Will we let them do this again in 2012?
www.thecloudfoundation.org
www.equinewelfarealliance.org
From page 32 ~ A God Thing
“Saving a mom and her foal from possible slaughter would be getting another good message out there.” “A whole raft of messages,” Kathleen added. “Like why does anyone have thirty horses that they cannot afford to care for?” I told Karen we’d take a pregnant mare. Kathleen and I talked about it day and night. “I wonder how far along she’ll be?” “How long is gestation?” “I don’t know” “Me either.” Off to Google. And Amazon. What a mistake that was. The first book to come in was 279 pages long and only a few of those pages were devoted to how things were supposed to work. The rest of the book went into graphic detail about all the things that could, might, shouldn’t go wrong, and explained in some language other than English exactly what we were supposed to do about each one. The first instruction was to commit each symptom to memory along with precisely what to do should it occur. I didn’t get past the second chapter. “Maybe we should rethink this,” Kathleen said. Our vet, Dr. Matt, assured me that 97% percent of all foalings were perfectly normal and should there be a problem he was not far away. Kathleen began a list of all the things we were supposed to have on hand just for a normal foaling, then added the emergency stuff. The list would eventually grow to several pages. I began to worry about how we would get the mare down to our place. The herd was in northern California. We were in southern California. And I was, at best, still very inexperienced with our 25 foot horse trailer. Most trips were to the local park where we trail ride, just a few miles away. I had almost no hours logged on freeways, and the longest trip I had ever taken was barely over a hundred miles right through the middle of Los Angeles traffic. I was a wreck. Do I make mountains out of molehills? Absolutely, Kathleen would say.
Dr. Matt said a mare shouldn’t travel during her last thirty days of pregnancy. Which meant that a vet up there would need to look at our choice, confirm pregnancy, and estimate delivery time. But the mare was not the only one who needed more than thirty days. We didn’t have a clue about any of this and needed time to study. We began to make preparations to fly up, meet the herd, and make a selection. And I was dreaming about the baby to come. It was always the same dream. I awoke one morning and wrote it all down. The birth of our new baby. “It’s beautiful,” Kathleen said. Her eyes were moist. “I hope that’s the way it happens. It’s very sweet and should be in the book.” But the concept for a book and the recurring dream all vanished quite suddenly one morning. Poof. Gone. The horse owner’s husband told us that someone had volunteered to adopt the entire herd and keep them together as a family. “How fantastic is that?” I said when I told Kathleen about the call. “You don’t sound very sincere,” she said. “Of course I am. If it’s for real what could be better for the horses?” “Right,” she said, sounding no more sincere than I did. The truth was we were both stunned. In our hearts we were happy for the herd. But we couldn’t help missing that mom and baby we felt like we already knew and loved. The baby I had seen born over and over again in my dreams. The baby I had already written about. The passage Kathleen had said should be in the book. It is, by the way. It’s the Preface you read back at the beginning. The piece that’s pure fiction. Just a dream. But clearly it served its purpose for I was now in the soup so to speak. I actually wanted that endangered pregnant mare. The concept was no longer a foreign thought. I was emotionally invested. The sanity line had been crossed. I had already written about it. And now I was desperate to see how it would all work out.
“It’s Cash’s fault,” Kathleen chirped. “You got sucked in because of Cash.” It’s true. If the herd had not been Polish Arabian none of this would’ve happened. I would’ve tried to find someone who could help the horses and that would’ve been that. Someone other than me. “Living proof,” I said. “Of what?” “God doesn’t play fair.” “Would you play fair if you had to deal with you?” I glanced over to see if she was smiling. I couldn’t tell. Our friend Cate Crismani had been following the story so I called her to pass along the herd’s gain and our loss. She was strangely ecstatic. “I love it,” she blurted. “Now you can adopt a pregnant mustang instead.” “Excuse me,” I said. Cate publishes trueCOWBOYmagazine, which devotes many of its pages to the plight of the American mustang. “A piece of our national heritage is at stake,” she went on. “The Bureau of Land Management has over 33,000 gathered mustangs in holding pens around the country and now they’re all under a death threat from the U.S. Government Accountability Office.” “Mustangs are wild,” I said. “You can handle it. And, you can make a huge difference for a national icon. You need to do this.” “I don’t think so,” I mumbled. “Two new Cashes I could handle. Two wild mustangs are indeed something else.” “Do it. You won’t be sorry.” I hung up with my head spinning. I had studied the wild horse lifestyle for the last book. But I knew very little about the issues surrounding the federal government’s management of the species. Or why they were involved at all. Much less why they had 33,000 captured mustangs in holding pens around the country. Back to Google. go to page 58
The “Freedom Collection” from
www.horseworship.com 888.60.HORSE
From page 55 ~ A God Thing
It seems that most of the federal land allocated to the protection of wild horses in a 1971 law was subsequently leased to Ranchers to graze cattle and sheep. In violation of the 1971 law. The cattle and sheep were consuming the grass and water, leaving very little for the horses. So instead of removing the cattle and sheep, the federal government was reducing the wild horse herd sizes. That made no sense. Surely I was missing something. I found the 1971 law and read it. I almost wish I hadn’t. The law clearly states that the land where these horses were living at the time (approximately 52 million acres of federal land) was to be devoted principally to wild free-roaming horses and burros. That means the wild horses and burros were to be the principal presence on that land. Not the exclusive presence but definitely the principal presence. And on that land – their land by law – and our land, we the taxpayers - the horses and burros were outnumbered by cattle and sheep 150 to 1. With a heavy sigh I pushed away from the computer and slumped back into my squeaky chair. Why me? I wondered. That night after dinner I dumped it all on Kathleen. There was a long silence. “Do you think this is smart?” she finally asked. “Probably not.” “Are you up to the task?” she asked. I had watched the likes of Monty Roberts and Pat Parelli do incredible work with mustangs but they each had thirty to forty times my experience with horses. Horses of every imaginable kind. “I don’t know,” I answered. “I really don’t know. But it could be important to try.” “It’s definitely not going to be like training Cash.” “Copy that,” I said. “Then it’ll be your Christmas present.” Our original entry into the horse world began with Kathleen giving me a trail ride for my birthday. Two weeks later we owned three horses. Now a pregnant mustang for Christmas. What, I wondered, might Fathers Day bring?
GOOD READS Reviewed by Carol Upton www.dreamsaloud.ca
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www.savingamericashorses.org
From page 47—Mustang #94549777
So we rode and rode and rode some more. We practiced every obstacle that I could think of going over, under, through and around. I wanted to find a job that we both enjoyed, so we attended a cow clinic. Maverick really liked herding cows, he would stare them down and chase them all over the arena, turning on a dime; leaving me to hang on for dear life. It was fun. We both loved being out in the woods exploring a new trail and the confines of an arena made us both grumpy and bored. I started watching for endurance riders at our local trail head. They were pretty easy to spot: big, athletic horses, with tiny little riders that wore tights. They all had bright colored tack and for some reason, a sponge tied to their funny looking saddles without horns. I didn't know anything about all of that stuff, but I did know that these ladies could ride the pants off most of the men on our Sunday morning ride. Their horses weren't even breathing heavy as we topped the big hills. But, then, neither was Maverick. He was getting fit and stronger every day. I wondered if we had what it takes? In the world of endurance riding, you will typically see a plethora of Arabian horses. Arabians excel at this sport, they were made to run long distances, and have an amazing capacity for eating up the miles at a high rate of speed. They dance effortlessly up the steepest of climbs then saunter down the other side while looking elegant and noble. When they come in for the vet check, their DNA allows their heart rate to drop like a rock, thus giving them a decisive advantage against any non-Arabian competitor. I decided I was gong to find the courage to start an endurance ride. I consulted my trusted vet again, and he asked me about our mileage and how fast we travel. We needed to pick up our speed a little, but he thought we could cover the distance. Dr. Marcella looked over Maverick and patiently allowed him to get comfortable with being handled and assessed as he would at a vet check. He gave me a couple of names and numbers of local endurance riders who he thought might help mentor me in preparing for our first ride. I called one of the names he gave me, and wondered if they would have the patience for such a newbie in the sport. Endurance riders are the friendliest, most helpful people in the horse world. I was soon joining my new friend on my first endurance-training ride.
More words I will never forget from Catherine Capps, "Now, when you can keep up this pace for five and a half hours, you will be ready for a fifty mile endurance ride!". I didn't think I could maintain this pace for twenty minutes, you are kidding, right? My horse, had a different opinion, however, and he trotted, cantered on with his new Arabian friends. He ate and drank when we stopped for breaks and he picked up the pace again eager to succeed at this new challenge. My new friend showed me how to listen to his heart beat after a speedy lap and found his heart rate was just a few beats higher than her horse, "But, he's not an Arabian", more words not to forget. Catherine instructed me on how to prepare, and what to expect. Her daughter ran me through a typical ride, explaining, gates, holds, timers, negative splits, CRI, BCAAs, electrolytes and all the new terminology I would soon learn. The day arrived. It was time to find a ride to enter! I found the information for the Skymont Endurance Ride, and off I went. I packed everything I could think of and then some. When I showed up after dark, due to a wreck on the highway, I was a wreck. And it was raining. Where do I park, where do I put my horse? How come everyone has these little pens for their horses?
www.speakingofhorses.com
No, I don't have a "crew". I unloaded and tied Maverick to the side of my trailer, his usual and customary camping spot. He was unfazed by all the commotion and movement around him, ready for his next adventure with me. We had just come back from a month out west riding in Sedona, Arizona, Bryce Canyon, Utah, the Grand Canyon and Fish Lake, Utah. He tackled those rough areas barefoot, but I opted to ride with boots for his first endurance ride. He was ready for Tennessee! I awoke before dawn to the sound of generators and high pitched squeals of horses all around. I have been horse camping quite a bit, but have never heard so many strongly verbose horses as I heard that morning before the ride. I tacked up and got ready to go, watching as a loose horse tore through camp like a cannon. My 17 year-old BLM mustang remained calm and steady. We got warmed up as daylight was filtering through the clouds and mist. I can see the other horses now. They are strong, lean and full of unbounding energy. My little guy just didn’t seem to fit in here. I was worried that he might get a little eager at the start, so I opted for my worn in western saddle, knowing that I have survived a few rodeos on his back in this seat. I followed Joe Shoech's advice from the new rider meeting and allowed the crowd to go out first. We started and Maverick opted to gait through the start area throwing his knees up high giving me a very smooth ride racking down the trail. Now he really didn't fit in here. The timers looked at me with their knowing smiles. They knew I was a first timer and maybe even a lasttimer by the end of the first loop. Those Arabians can cover some ground fast and I'm not sure what a rump rug is, but they sure look fancy from the back as they fluttered down the foggy road. We trailed behind a group of them and watched them leave us in the thick morning air. Maverick didn’t seem to be able to keep the same speed as these long legged athletes. He trotted for awhile, hit a canter, then back to a trot. Okay, a little walking too. We found another rider on a TWH that we kept up with for awhile and I was grateful for her kind words to me, "What is he? He's cute!"
As the trail turned technical, roots and rocks were abundant. Now this was Maverick's style, as he quickly got ahead of the TWH while they stumbled a bit. Maverick continued snaking his way around trees. The tight turns seem to bend under him with ease as we follow the ribbons around. He may not float up a hill, but he can make his way down a steep grade in good time and a sure foot, often times gaining ground on his fellow Arabians. We made it in from the first lap. I find the P&R station and asked for a courtesy check as I had no idea where Maverick’s heart rate was. But I knew that mine was red-lined. He is almost down and in another minute hits his mark of 64 beats. I waited in line for the vet. He is soft spoken. He walks me through all the things I need to do, listening and looking, poking and prodding my "other" horse. Maverick was unsure and worried and looked to me for reassurance. We trot out and I wondered if I would make it back to the vet without falling down as I circled the orange cones. Happily, we passed. I watched the other riders going out on their beautiful Arabian horses, still so full of energy and enthusiasm! Mav and I headed back to my trailer, I tied him next to a hay bag and he nibbled on some carrots and apples. He ate and drank, then dozed a little. I leave the saddle on, as it is chilly and I don't want him to think that we are done yet. Maverick quickly finds another group to fall in with. They are trotting at an uncomfortable pace for us, and we fall back. Another rider catches us and passes by asking "What is he?" but moving too fast to hear my answer.
Maverick wanted to follow, but quickly realized theses Arabians have a very airy, lofty trot that my little gaited mustang just cannot match. That's okay, Mav, we are going to ride our own ride at our own little mustang pace. When we did, finally, find our own rhythm, things started to get much smoother for both of us. We finished within the time limits and Maverick’s heart rate dropped in a few more minutes. The vet gave us our first completion and we were thrilled! It was time to prepare for our next day's ride and do it all again! We were ready to go again at the starting line the next morning. The timers knew my number without having to tell them. I was perplexed, how do they know me? Apparently, there are not a lot of other mustangs in this sport. And even fewer mustangs that are gaited. Maverick had a few fans cheering for him that day as we passed the timers. We had much more fun the second day as we fell into a nice group that matched our stride. We spent a few miles riding with seasoned veteran Joe Schoech and his wife Tamra. They were patient and tolerant as we tried to follow along. A few more miles and we had our second completion and our fist 50 miles in AERC! The next ride was another learning experience for us, just as every "next" ride had been. We are developing our own pace and our own strategy. We still hear the same question, "What is he?" as we arrive at a water stop. No one seemed sure what to think of this little horse that gaits and gallops along side them barefoot.
My “non-Arabian� horse, my mustang, is learning that he can keep going and going; and can sometimes even keep up with the efficient Arabians with their lofty trot. He is learning not to waste energy getting upset at the start. I am learning how to manage his energy and keep it moving forward, safely. Our sprint finish isn't pretty or record breaking, but Mav is willing to show other horses how to cross a bridge they are scared of, or get through a rocky stream or manage a drop-off with confidence. We are not always able to ride with the same horses at their speed, but we are managing to find what works for us I enjoy the camaraderie during the ride, but I know that allowing Maverick to keep his own, unique pace is more important to his well being. Maverick and I have completed quite a few 50 milers by now and we are often in the top ten, maybe even the top three. We are also practicing many tricks in the arena at liberty. When I take the halter off him and ask him to trot around freely, he shakes his head letting his mane flow and throws his tail up in the air. He gaits at first to show how elegantly he can throw his knees in the air, then launches into a beautiful canter before leaping gracefully over his double barrel obstacle. Mav is an anxious and willing partner. He gets very excited when he learns the new maneuver. I continue to seek better ways to communicate with him, often times we both get confused about our language, but we are sorting it out day by day. Our bond grows stronger every day and we know our partnership will never end. We have each other. Maverick and I cherish our journey, one hoof beat at a time.
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