Our kinship with Earth must be maintained; otherwise we will find ourselves trapped in the center of our own paved-over souls with no way out.
— Terry Tempest Williams
The morning after waking up in the yurt, we drove into The Big Empty, the Red Desert of Wyoming, home to the mustangs.
Well, until the majority of them were rounded up just last September. I was there. I saw it. It was NOT pretty.
Damn you BLM
Fog and roads of gumbo kept us from traveling very far.
We tried. We drove as far as we could, through a gray veil, to find a shadow, an outline. Anything resembling a horse.
My attention shifted to the land. I know this land.
The rabbit brush had turned a pretty copper color. The sage was always like I want it to be. Still scented musky sweet and lots of it.Everything was pale, muted brown, green or gold. The land presented their colors in a way you’d imagine a prairie landscape in winter. There was beauty all around me. So, it didnt matter that there were no horse outlines. I knew they were there. The horses of the great Red Desert are spectacular. If you want to see a fantastic stallion who has eluded the helicopter for years on end, take a look at an incredible horse who JUST SAID NO to a roundup or any kind of human.