(If you read this within 24 hours of it’s publication, I ask that you read the postscript added since then.)
We share our stories and adventures honestly, even when they do not work out at planned. We risk baiting the critics…BUT with our adventures, we learn, and with our sharing, others learn, and that is larger than ego.
SO, yesterday we set out to move River’s band across the road, back to Stardust Meadows. With a proper set up and humans on hand, this is a smooth endeavor, and yesterday the actual move was smooth, when we got to it. Before the move, however, as we were separating the horses that were to go, we accidentally had Little Nell and her (adult) daughter Katniss on the opposite side of a gate, and I remember thinking that I needed to correct that, but thought I had time. I was wrong. Little Nell did not want to wait, the separation was against the natural order of things, so she went over/through it, destroying it and getting some minor cuts herself.
No, this was not good.
With these minor wounds, she and her daughter were going to need to remain at the home barn (near our medicine), and River’s band would be traveling across the road without them. This did not please anyone, and they were loudly protesting the split. However, we pushed forward, with seven horses crossing over, quickly and safely. After River’s crew was safely moved, they continued to call to the pair of mares over here. Then Finn, Molly, and the other horses all started calling also. The calls were going back and forth. I began to question the wisdom of my decision to split the herd (they were 23 strong) but the reason was to give each slightly smaller herd a size-appropriate field. With 7 on one side and 13 on the other, I thought we were creating safer, more manageable herds. HAH! The horses laugh at my folly. By nightfall all was quiet, both sides grazing peacefully and I hoped we were all good. I was wrong! Apparently my reasoning was lost on the horses, who really, really, wanted to remain together as one big happy herd family. This morning, our big beautiful new fence was strong and intact, but empty; one of the horses in River’s herd had played with the chain long enough to open the gate, and River’s small band of 7 calmly walked out, and were waiting by the home entrance at sunrise. Fields of grass and freedom surrounded them, but they wanted home. Sunrise, and River was the first to walk over to me, returning my gentle greeting, no treats, no rope, and walk with me to the gate that I opened for him, and let them peacefully walk back inside. Through a gate that means nothing, but a home that apparently, is everything.
When we are able to purchase more land (more money, more donations, more growth), and have intact 30 acre fields (right now we have many fields but they are 15 acres at the largest), our home will be the size it needs to be for everyone, without splits, without moves, without these questions. It is great to learn. For now, we will continue to work together to find solutions that keep everyone happy and safe. And allow me to sleep in on occasion. 🙂
P.S. I wrote this blog yesterday, about our attempts to move a portion of a larger herd, and how it backfired. In my sharing of this series of events, and my anxiousness to ‘take responsibility for it all’, I think that I actually missed some very significant milestones. River has been here for over two years, a mustang that has been untamed. Many tried and he knows every move. Instead here, we have been working on trust…that elusive ingredient that cannot be trained or forced. Our trainer has made the most progress with him, but it’s been very slow, and I was less sure about my relationship with this beautiful wild boy. Thus, his possible escape has weighed on me, because I am responsible for his safety and care. What a word, ‘responsible’. So I keep making decisions to try and set us up for success; this included building a big strong fence, giving River a herd group, and giving him training sessions every week, as we tried to build a bridge to him. All of these tools were in the background yesterday, as I walked up to this mustang at sunrise, loose and free in front of our property. Breakouts are much less frequent now, as our fencing skills have improved and usually it’s human error such as leaving a gate open, that has allowed a romp. And generally a loose horse will romp for a bit, joyously, before peacefully coming home. So there was River, in misty morning light, standing there. River and his band had opened the gate at Stardust Meadows sometime in the night, and he could have been anywhere, anywhere. But he was standing right by our property, waiting…He sees me from 150 feet away, as I leave the house and begin walking across the dewy lawn. “River” I call his name softly, and he lifts his head a bit, recognizing my voice…”Hey boy”, I say, and he walks slowly towards me and I slowly towards him. I am careful to keep my gaze ‘soft’ and my gait easy as I near him, because River has ‘spooked’ many times when humans approach. Several feet apart, we greet, I keep it brief and without touching (I am a hugger so I have to remind myself to leave it!) and I veer left towards the paddock gate, and he turns and latches onto my shoulder. Without looking I know he is there, his soft footfall echoing my own. I open the gate, which pushes in, and invite River into the space; it’s a small space really, but his definition now of ‘safety’ was within that space, rather then out in the world. River walked past me and over to a hay pile and began munching, and my attention turned to the other horses in his group, who were watching and waiting. Sawyer, Leo, then Piper, Aimee, Shannon, then Lexi, all followed in, ambling easily back into their home. Now, loving horse owners get used to seeing this with their domestic horses, who know where home is and are happy to return….but mustangs….well with a mustang, you really do need to earn it. So while mistakes happen and need to be corrected, the years of building trust were there.
How can you explain the breath catching experience of having a mustang trust you? We will keep working on that.