The following is a true story that took place in the late 1990s. Thanks to Aimee and DJ for letting me share some of my horse tales with you.
If you’ve ever watched an old Western, you might have seen the image of two riders chasing down a wild horse and attempting to capture it with lassos thrown over the neck. Allow me to be the first one to point out that unless you have a good stunt double or an extremely fast horse, this feat looks much better on television.
A few years ago, our first Kiger mustang arrived. She was a three-year-old dun colored mare with a fabulously dark mane and tale. She was small, a bit scrawny from the trip, but otherwise absolutely beautiful. Nervous of humans, we took our time in letting her get to know us and us her. Often times, we would put feed out and sit near the feed bowl. Eventually, she grew used to the idea of eating with one of us close by.
Then one day, the unthinkable happened, my phone rang informing me that Dream “escaped.”
”How?” I demanded into the phone, not that the how was that important at the moment, but I was already hopping around, phone propped against my shoulder and trying to get my boots on.
She was spooked and in her effort to get away, she charged the fence and crashed through part of it and jumped the rest. She took off up the driveway and by the time someone got up there, she’d vanished. Passing drivers who saw the horse galloping down the road pointed us in the right direction.
It wasn’t long before there were several of us searching the nearby woods and up and down the streets in the area, trying to find this wild mare who’d done what wild horses do well when confronted with a situation that was fight or flight.
She flew!
My husband and our friend headed back to the farm to saddle up some horses to help with the search and I kept going on foot with a couple of others. We found a family standing outside their front door and they gestured to the woods up behind their property, our mare had been spotted!
We darted up into the woods, keeping the pace slow because the last thing I wanted to do was startle her again. I caught a glimpse of something golden amidst the brown bark and green leaves. By this point there were only two of us close by. I whispered a hiss and alerted the mare’s owner that she was just through the trees.
I started forward slowly, keeping my eyes somewhat down. Direct eye contact can be a challenge or indicate a predator; I didn’t want to startle the mare anymore than necessary. I was within a few feet when she took notice of me. She paused in mid-chew and turned her head to regard me. I paused in my crawl and settled on a log. I had a pocket full of treats and grain. I sat quietly as she snuffled the air and then with agonizing slowness she returned to eating the grass once more.
I edged forward slowly, always keeping in mind to keep my motions slow and deliberate. She didn’t startle as long as she could tell what I was doing. I inched down through the brush and sticks, putting my hands into mud and leaves.
Thankfully, not once in this hour-long odyssey of shuffling through the underbrush did it occur to me that there could be snakes there. I think I would have been petrified on the spot, because I despise snakes so much.
Finally, I’d achieved my goal. I was sitting a couple of feet from the mare. She whuffled towards me a time or two and as I slowly held out a bit of grain, she ate from my hand. I could see my partner still several feet away holding his breath. I was relieved that she seemed willing enough. I spent the next few minutes offering her a few treats which she began to eat with more enthusiasm.
Now I began the slow process of removing the halter from my shoulder, always careful to make sure she could see everything I was doing. It’s like watching a film in slow motion; you can see each and every nuance of the action-taking place on the screen. In the Matrix it just means they are moving faster than the eye can comprehend, but on this increasingly hot afternoon, it just meant that I was soaked in sweat and moving at a snail’s pace.
The mare was mildly curious about the halter, but more interested in the grain. I finally achieved my feet and was standing within a foot her. Now we began the slow process of letting me touch her. She wasn’t terribly keen on this idea, but a few treats and a great deal of patience was rewarded in my hand stroking up and down her neck.
By now the sweat was dripping off the end of my nose and I had this awful urge to find a privy of some kind. I kept up the slow, but steady pace and soon I was stroking her neck and shoulder. She whuffled at me, sniffing my hair and face before checking out the halter I was holding up for her inspection.
After an eternity it seemed, the halter finally slid over the ridge of her nose and with greater care than I have done anything other than changing a newborn baby’s diaper, I slipped the strap over the back of her head and began to fasten it behind her ears.
Hours must have passed in that little glade of tress while the sweat rolled off me and the bugs crawled over my legs and I convinced this wild mare that I meant her no harm. The halter was finally secured and now we were moving on to getting the lead rope in place. All I wanted was a good grip on her so that we could give her a mild sedative and coax her out of the woods and onto a horse trailer.
We’d made so many great strides this afternoon, having been unable to really touch her before now. I was still keeping everything as slow and steady as possible, not daring to upset her now that her hard-earned trust was won.
She was comfortable with the idea of the lead rope until a small black fly decided to land on my cheek just under my glasses. Annoyed, I sent a swift bit of breath upwards to blow it off.
I might as well have fired a gun into the air.
The mare bolted.
I stared at the spot where she’d stood for a long moment and then let out a long breath. The chase was on again; it was both the single most frustrating and amusing activity all afternoon. She’d let me do everything until a simple poof of breath sent her fleeing.
We ended up calling in a vet who tried to tranquilize the horse to no effect. We managed to catch her once more and she bolted. When one of our party ended up with a broken ankle, the search was called down while he was taken to a hospital. The entire area was in on the hunt now and we received a phone call from a man just around the corner from the farm the following morning.
Our mare wandered into his pasture the night before, he went ahead and locked her in, but he wanted to let me know. I was intensely relieved, but spent the entirety of the next day repeating the experience in the wood, until the mare was coaxed into a small pen that we could use to load her into a horse trailer.
I’m proud to say that Dream was taken home, safe and sound. We spent the next several weeks earning her trust and taking care of her. She is the lead mare of our Kiger herd now and has taught me many lessons over the years.
Patience pays off, but beware the fly.
Yes, she has taught me many lessons!
Dream went on to foal four beautiful foals at last count. Three colts and one filly. Currently, she is living in Sweden where she is treated royally by a loving family that purchased several Kiger Mustangs to introduce the breed to the European front.