Following wild horses can be both exhilarating and excruciating.
Those of us who spend our days wandering riverbanks, following hoofprints in the sand and listening for the soft rustle of movement in the brush have come to know their uniqueness-their dance, their song and their spirit. No two horses are the same.
A Mother’s Love, Arizona
We recognize the mare who acts coy when a stallion from a different band approaches. We smile as a foal discovers its legs and races in joyful circles around its band. We stand in awe when a mare shares her eelgrass with her young foal. We have learned to trust a stallion's instincts as he lifts his head toward the horizon moments before another band emerges from the enchanted forest.
Little by little, these wild lives become familiar.
Their triumphs become celebrations.
And sometimes, their losses become heartbreak.
Recently, one of the youngest members of the Salt River herd—a foal named Cody, just two months old—returned to the earth. His time here was brief, little more than a heartbeat. Yet for those who watched him, photographed him, and celebrated his arrival, his absence feels immeasurable.
The sadness is real. So too is the hope that his passing was swift and without suffering.
Mountain lions are wild, too.
This is the reality of the natural world that I love so deeply.
Life and loss.
Beauty and sorrow.
One cannot exist without the other.
The bargain when we open our hearts, we must accept both.
Run wild and free, Cody.
And, to the wild ones who survive,
may you live long lives in the vastness of our desert.
A tribute to all of the foals of the Salt River Wild Horses whose young lives are always in peril.