Plight of OUR MUSTANGS

I was recently asked about both sides of our mustang issue, with the loaded question, Why?

The answer, point blank "Money". And as we all know, money talks LOUD and can carry a lethal stick! It is not my assumption, but for years have learned this simple notion by gathering facts.

OUR public lands allotted and PROMISED to US and our wild horses (through the ROAM act of 1971, but then surreptitiously amended in 2004, which is where the struggle was resurrected), has gotten smaller, and continues to do so. Why? Because individuals pay to LEASE public (meaning "our") lands from the government for grazing rights. But it doesn't stop there.. there's also big game hunting (money for tags), urban sprawl (money for land), oil, and recently ~ wind turbines, and the latest eye-opener... URANIUM mines (in a very interesting Arab-US deal~ Thank you TrueCowboyMagazine for the enlightenment), see Mustang for Uranium~ http://earthchamber11.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-american-genocide-horses-for.html . Absolutely no joke. It's crystal clear why money is the main thread and source behind the removal of more and more mustangs... Mustangs which are our western and National heritage.... and our National treasure!

North America used to have 2 million of our LIVING LEGENDS roaming free, now the numbers are down to only 27,000 and declining. It's disheartening to know that another 33,000 are in government holding facilities around the US (here's one such article of many http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25465974/#storyContinued ) . The government doesn't know what to do with these horses,so they're seriously considering EUTHANIZING them (a covert document was uncovered, and within it was even the plan to incorporate counselors to deal with the workers who had the job of killing healthy horses), and for those who relate best in "money terms".. paid by us tax payers (feeding/holding .... and the euthanizing). All of these facts are backed up with more infomation, article links and news reports by even unbiased third parties. Questions? Go Google for it, it's all there. Isn't it alarming that there are only a handful of states that have wild horses... Why is that?

There is a claim that horses are non-native and therefore there's a need to eliminate them. As you may know, and as it's thought, horses came to North America with the Spaniards, and so it is assumed that they are non-native. However, there is evidence that they were here long before the ice-age and died out from natural catastrophic events (or quite possibly, man). Wild ancestors (Equus ferus ferus) of the Mustang roamed the plains of North America till about 10,000 years ago before going extinct and ancient DNA studies clearly shows that the Wild Horse originated from the Americas. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mustang_(horse) . Horses were THEN RE-introduced by the Conquistadors.

The BEST "GO-TO" source for accurate information, along with a great Q&A and stats is to go to http://www.wildhorsepreservation.com You'll feel very enlightened with the information.

It is indeed important to know both sides of the story. The government officials who's plight to reduce free-ranging mustangs, claiming that it's due to their concern and welfare for the animals to protect them from famine by keeping mustang numbers down... are the SAME government officials who want to kill these amazing animals, who they've mismanaged and put into government holding facilities (33,000 mustangs, yet they continue roundups!) because they don't know what else to do with them, and that they're costing tax-payers millions. Is this making any sense to anyone?? Why round up more to add to the problem on our dime, just to destroy them... again, on our dime?

For the average person, who is not up to speed with this issue... it may be soothing and nice to hear them say "it's for the welfare of these horses". Wild horses like ALL wild animals can do just fine without human intervention. True, the only predators wild horses have (beside the obvious~ man) are cougars (Thanks again to "intervention" nearly eliminating wolves). BUT EVEN SO, lack of forage for whatever the reason, IS also a process of nature, and keeps herds in check. Why must we attempt to control everything, including the effective functioning of an ecosystem? Insufficient forage means less birth rates, and of course, during times of drought or famine there would fully functioning natural selection. (Side note, a large cause for forage depletion? Cattle outnumber wild horses 200 to 1 on PUBLIC lands.) Our natural laws of the ecosystem are fully functional and self-adjusting. If a horse is lost to famine, nature also has a way to give back and recycles it to benefit other animals or organisms.

ALSO in human intervention, we assume a roll of a higher power, by chosing future generations of horses based on what "we" want, and with reduced herd numbers, we effect the genetic viability of these horses, including increase in inbreeding, which further effects herd health. I can go on and on with other examples, including on emotional levels in regards to family ties and bonds among the individual bands. I've witnessed it myself first hand (my Journal ~ website http://www.wildwindart.com/journal.html ).

North America in early 1900's had 2 million mustangs... my heart sinks when I think there's now a mere 27,000 (w/more in captivity than roaming free), and only a few states have them. It would be a very sad day, if we had to go to the zoo to view America's mustangs. The west without mustangs? Empty and in my opinion, no longer considered wild or the "last frontier'... as we've conquered/controlled IT down to the last wild animal.

Please take action, here's what YOU can do: http://www.wildhorsepreservation.com/action.html to make your voice heard and counted. You may think it's just a simple "grain in the bucket" but eventually the grain bucket does get filled! Tell them, NO MORE MUSTANGS for MONEY!!

Sonya
www.wildwindart.com
www.facebook.com/cowgirloncoffee1

"Sage"

Between horses, a husband, two energetic young boys, a household and two businesses... I DO take out time on occasion to play with some art work. It does become a feat, and when I do complete one, it's quite the big deal and I'm tempted to turn it into a ceremony... but who has the time?


Sage
L/E 250
Graphite & Acylic

This is my newest, called "Sage". The original photograph used for this drawing is by an amazing western photographer, Robin Corey www.myspace.com/cowgirllight The beautiful horse "silver" Sage is a long-time equine love of the photographer, and so it was my pleasure to draw this beautiful horse for her. Primarily, it's done with graphite, but there is also some light pastel, and for the whisps of mane blowing in the wind, I used a few strands of hair collected in the high desert of an American mustang and with dark acrylic paint, painted in the details. So essentially, this image was "touched by wild horse". A portion also gets donated to a wild horse preservation group.

Simple things.

Sonya
WildWind Art

River

All pets and critters have their own remarkable stories. I often pet my mutt-girl River, and I think out loud for her tipping ears to hear, that there’s a story in my head about her that needs to be told. So unfortunate there are many "throw away" pets out there, and living out in the country, we’ve met quite a few sad and confused animals that were no longer wanted and dropped off at a lonely crossroad near our home. River was one of those "throw away" dogs.

Yelling and shouting caught my attention while out in the yard. Down the road lives a nice, but pet-less couple in a quaint little farmhouse about a 1/3 of a mile away. When I looked up to see what the commotion was about I saw a little black dot streaking across their manicured front lawn like a bolt of lightning toward the road with the farmer chasing behind throwing rocks it’s direction. Sad, I thought, wondering about the little black critter. I went back to my tasks.

The following day while out at the barn, I noticed a little black speck down in our pasture past the pond, along the riverbank. “Oh…just great” I thought. Now, I’m not one against helping critters if they need it, but I was sure hoping this one was just one of those dogs that left for the day, taking itself for a walk, but was making it’s way back home. We’re already inundated with kids and critters, and I maintained my hopefulness with that thought, and went about currying the horses. I watched the black speck for 3 days looking for food like blackberries and moles, along the river’s bank.

On the fourth day, I spotted the black speck trotting up the road along our pasture fence heading this direction. “Shoot!” my head exclaimed! And I knew, once passed our driveway is a series of sharp and windy corners as you head up the hills back toward town, some of which are dangerous blind curves… I knew an intervention was inevitable. A little black critter would be impossible to see once sundown fell upon the dark road and it would certainly become a road stat. I had had enough, and no longer wanted my conscience to be nagging and tugging at me. This little black speck turned into a skinny little half-breed dog as it neared the driveway. My heart hurt as I worried for its safety as I could hear a truck of some sort make it’s way down the windy road.

From my long driveway I called to the aimless and confused little dog in a playfully high-pitched voice, getting down low and gently patting the ground. I was concerned that I may make it bolt and cross to the other side with oncoming vehicles. To my relief, the little black dog dropped her head and ears as she turned into the driveway acknowledging my offer. Extremely uncertain and fearful, she wagged her tail and down onto her belly she went, doing a belly-crawl the whole length of the long driveway to me. My heart sank for her. So skinny and frightened was she. Fearful and timid, she stopped short on her belly and lay on her side in submission smacking her tail on the ground and licking the air. She showed her submissive posture, but on edge and was ready to bolt if she thought necessary. I was able to slowly make my way to her and touch her, easing her anxiety by a thread.

We fed her and made her a comfortable bed in the doghouse with clean straw next to our German Shepherd, Ace and she became quite comfortable and befriended my very loyal and protective canine. Ace guarded the property and would never consider leaving the boundaries without my husband or I. That is, until the lure of a female… and one in heat, nonetheless! Gone for a day, but they both returned, exhausted with burs, berry vines, grass, and stickers covering their coats, in their ears, and between their toes. Ace had been gone nearly 12 hours and that was enough for me. I contacted the dog control and tied her to the front deck with my lungeline, awaiting for the county to take her away.

So away she went in the truck and they said they would do all they can to find her a good home… for 72 hours. I watched as the truck drove down the driveway with her, and I went back to what I had been working on. The county worker had mentioned that they post the photos of the new dogs on their website. The following day, I was curious, and I looked up the website, hitting the link to new dogs. There I saw a picture of this little black dog on a leash through the front glass doors of the pound… on her belly, like the belly-crawl she did up my driveway. My heart couldn’t take it, and the next day I made a phone call and drove to pick her up. I had to pay $40 dollars and get her in the books with the county to reclaim this abandoned dog. Needless to say after she was ‘bought and paid for’, she was then promptly taken to the vet fixed, to assure there would be no more ‘lure adventures’. Though abandoned, she certainly didn’t come free, because besides those expenses, she’s also endured 5 surgeries in an attempt save her back leg from a truck-riding accident. I say that with a smile on my face because of the irony in acquiring a “free” abandoned pet, that has cost us more then some of my horses. But, like family you don’t count the cost.

So, her name is River, and since that one day when she was taken to the pound, she hasn’t left since. We named River for a couple reasons, as that’s when she became ours, those days she spent trying to take care of herself along the water’s edge, alone, hungry and cold. Sometimes people are sent ‘gifts’, and don’t realize it or don’t know why unless they open themselves to the possibilities. During the days when she was down along the riverbank, we also had an old advanced-aged malamute-wolf hybrid named Kobuck (also an abandoned pet, and named after a river in Alaska) who would never leave the yard unless we took him with us…. That is until the last few days before he passed on. Like his wild ancestors, daily, Kobuck walked himself down to the river, crossed it and laid there waiting for his time to come, away from the ‘family den’. Each day he slowly walked himself down, (very unusual for him to leave the yard/deck), and each evening my husband and I went down with a small trailer and carried him back to the house. When Kobuck passed away, River came to our lives. Coincidence? Maybe.

Today, River is a fat and sassy girl with adoration for the whole family in her sweet eyes. Because of her unfortunate experiences, she seems that much more grateful. When tossed a treat, she never fails to stop to give a second look as if to say “thank you” and wags her tail. She’s so attuned to us that she pays attention to where your eyes are. She’ll sit, quietly attentive, watching. You don’t even have to turn your head, but if you just turn your eyes to look at her, her ears drop with adoration, her tail thuds on the ground, and licks the air. On occasion, we can even get her to howl with the whole family when we are out by the firepit. River… aka Cajun Sausage is fat, black, shiny, and happy and no longer a ‘throw away’ pet, but a fixed member of this family.

Simple things.
Sonya
www.wildwindart.com

My Art at the HEART OF THE WEST Show & Sale

These are the two of my originals headed this October to the very prestigious HEART of the WEST Show and Sale in Wyoming. Only 40 artists are selected for this event each year. I am deeply honored to have been one of the selected western artists.

I'm primarily a pencil & pastel artist, but I also paint in the detailed hair structures using dark acrylic paint and strands of authentic wild horse mane hairs found in the high desert. So essentially each drawing is touched by an American mustang... our western heritage, living legends that are our National treasure!! I also donate to wild horse organizations to protect them and keep them roaming free.

To see my art work on Heart of the West's website, click this link and look on the bottom right and you'll see these two there! www.landerchamber.org/artpiecespage4.aspx Thanks for all your well wishes! The original photograph I used for "The One for the Job" is by wonderful equine photographer, Pam Nickoles of www.nickolesphotography.com .

Headed out on Friday to mat & frame with name plates:


"The One for the Job"
L/E 250 signed and numbered





"Water Paints"
L/E 250 signed and numbered



Where the wild wind blows,
Sonya

www.wildwindart.com
info@wildwindart.com

Boots Can Tell on You

I have a pair of boots that have cleaned stalls, walked undaunted through soupy mud and cowpies, ridden over miles of amazing trails and prairies, ridden many a horse, and clung on to wanna-be broncs, chased down steers, licked by dogs, ran from rattlers, and snuck up on mustangs. They've seen their share of drought, ice, snow, puddles or driving rain. They've kicked some booty, stomped to get their way, & hustled pool or target shooting. They've walked many miles whether concrete, packed dirt, marsh, through sagebrush, grass, dust, or rock.

They are half my age and took a long time to mold to just how I want them, and now are more comfortable than slippers. When I go out on the town to blow some steam and play pool at a tavern, I kick some dirt off & proudly wear them with grit, scuff marks, and their share of scars. One thing they refuse to do, however, is dance... not because they can't.

It's an easy habit to notice others' boots, which tell their own stories by the shape they're in, whether they're hard working & real riding or buckaroo boots, or just clean & shiny wanna-be weekend or fair-weather show-off boots to give an impression. Boots tell a lot about a person and the kind of person they are, but mostly if they ride and how well they sit a saddle.

My boots' stories about me?... They've been sworn to silence!

Simple things.

Sonya
www.wildwindart.com

Garden Sun~Roasted Garlic

It's garlic, shallot, and onion season and my husband dutifully had been picking the garlic and shallots. He began picking them last week prior to the nearly week-long stretch of searing, record breaking heatwave in the triple digits, which is not all that common for these parts of Oregon. He last spring he painstakingly rototilled, mulched and created rows for this "pet" garlic and planted each one (of about 100 cloves), just as specified by "Gardeners Annonymous" LOLL. There were so many garlic plants, that I offered to help if needed, which he graciously declined. He wanted to see this whole process through from beginning to end, and I had no problem with that. Because there were so many, as he dug each garlic head out, he put them in a pile to process later, and he figured they could nicely "cure" there in the sun.

Well as the story goes, my husband got sidetracked with other of his many projects and the pile of garlic had been forgotten...and left in the sun. I just came across them just yesterday, and with a laugh and taunt on my part, we decided to finish processing and storing them. In the kitchen he and I worked, destemming them, peeling off the outter layer of garlic skins that were in contact with the soil, and neatly trimming the root ends. When he began doing so, he discovered the cloves of each head to be somewhat soft to the touch, and yellowed.. instead of the firm white cloves we all know. Upset and beside himself, the whole bushel of garlic nearly made it into the compost pile. However, upon further inspection and not without my additional laughter, we realized they had been quite literally cooked in the sun.



We investigated further, smelling and tasting... and we were very pleasantly surprised to find that the cloves were very similar to traditional oven-roasted garlic! Pleasant, mild, roasted garlic with tons of fresh flavor! The pile of garlic heads spent about 4-5 days of 100+ degree heat but are very edible and tasty SUN-ROASTED garlic!

For dinner, we decided to sample this gift from the sun. We finely minced the sun-roasted garlic and creamed it with butter, then spreading it on sourdough bread. That along with garden cucumbers & tomato salad was our simple, healthy and deliciously light dinner. Because the shelf life is not long once the garlic is roasted, we decided the put them in jars with white distilled vinegar and dill and processed them in a hotwater bath to seal them. A little bit of sunshine to enjoy in the dark days of winter.

Sometimes it's a good thing to make the best of an unexpected situation!

Simple things.

Sonya
http://www.wildwindart.com
http://www.myspace.com/wildwindart

Bathing Beauties

Walking by the backdoor this morning with coffee cup in hand, I took a double-take out at the backyard. In our dog's paddock adjacent to the yard, were three hawks perched up on the rim of River's water trough, sipping the water. Even more entertaining was then watching them take turns jumping in, flapping their big striped wings.... they were BATHING! They seemed giddy, playing as they did so, hopping from side to side on the rim. Mother kept a watchful eye on us during this morning bathing, as she could see my whole family peering through the window at her's, and their antics.

We've identified them as Cooper's Hawks. It's a family that's had a nest in the margin of our forest overlooking the side yard ... basically their pantry. It's a mother and her two fledglings. Besides the barn owls shacked up in the "dog house" (an oversized nesting box my husband built, hoisted, and attached 50 feet up in a large douglas fir), we are also very humbled and honored to have a very private and shy occupant. She's an amazing raptor who's chosen to raise her youngsters in our forest every year. For years we've watched the courtships, the new hatchlings, and like watching one's own children grow and change, watching the hawk's growth and behaviors change, but on an accelerated level. It's exhilerating when anticipating the hatchlings, to look up the tree where sunshine streams through the branches near the tree tops illuminating the nest, and finally seeing little round tufts of fuzz glowing golden in the forest sunlight.

Equally amazing has been watching the mother dismantle the nest stick by stick, to encourage her fledglings to fly and take care of themselves, once they've grown their flight feathers. They flapped and exercised their wings jumping from branch to branch, and now they do so by jumping from tree to tree. They're almost as big as she is, yet daily we still hear them making their demanding "key! key! key! calls for her to bring them their meals... throughout most of the day, every day! She's an excellent mother who takes her job seriously and gives great care to her vivacious brood. Regularly we watch her bring meals back to the exciteable youngsters, she's a perpetual and efficient hunter. However, I suspect she's also anxious for them to become self-sufficient and I'm quite confident that she is one mother who will not experience "empty nest syndrome". Like any good mother, her job is to make them healthy, strong, and independent.

Simple things.

Where the wild winds blow,
Sonya
www.wildwindart.com
www.myspace.com/wildwindart

Sweet As Molasses

... waited 'til well past sundown, and under the light of the full moon, slipped a rope around the old resting paint's neck. Once he discovered there was no escape, I braced for a fight. But the old man began licking the palms of my hand like an over-grown puppy....

I was given the advice by a couple knowledgeble cowboys to use molasses with worming paste to get a horse to take his medicine... a method passed down from early cowboyin' days they said. It worked very well, better than expected.. simple yet ingenious! I had made a comment yesterday about the fact that I had missed putting the worming tube in the corner of my wise old paint's mouth (and...yeah without a halter)... and with Cash, you ONLY have one chance. Once he knows what you're up to, you only see dust in the wind... afterwhich he won't let anyone about three horse-strides near him! He's a wise horse full of experience, and once he sees the halter in your hand figuring what you're up to, he's gone.

So taking their advice, I dipped part of the worming tube in molasses (happened to have some left over from my husband's barbeque recipe). Of course, some had gotten on my hands.. and while I was gently interacting with the horses, they investigated and tasted the sticky molasses. Like a big puppy Cash lapped up the molasses with his big soft tongue, and I slowly put the tube in the corner and in went the medicine! No drama or dust to settle. He looked mildly surprised but continued his full enjoyment of licking the sweet molasses off his lips and my fingertips... He looked like a teenager who's found new love, even "starry-eyed". Reminded me of myself when I'm eating chocolate!

I shared the sticky stuff with the others as well and had horses all around me, smelling it, tasting it. They were all very enamored with this as well... there was no pecking order, no one horse bit or flattened their ears at another, all were "starry-eyed" and seemingly entranced .. almost a little eery. Blaze couldn't get enough of the aroma of the molasses, more so then eating it in this go-round. Reno, the same, only she touched some with her lip, and then curled her upper lip toward her nose to concentrate the heavenly smell.

I had the whole herd fighting for my "worming" attention!

Then like over-energetic children feeling a candy-sugar rush, they all bucked and played in the pasture for quite some time after. I must admit sampling it myself and attest it to be very tasty. I wonder if there's a candy made of only molasses.

Simple things.

Sonya
www.wildwindart.com

WILD HORSES

This is an amazing and breathtaking video with the song "All the Pretty Little Ponies" about wild horses. The herd is specifically the famous "Cloud's" band. If you have children, sit them on your lap and teach them about the beauty of wild horses and their own family ties. This herd is threatened and half may be removed, with possibly Cloud himself along with thousands of other wild horses. 30,000 wild horses are in captivity, that's more than the numbers of horses we have running free. Those horses in captivity are held by the government, and face being euthanized. What went wrong? Can you imagine this great big land without free running wild horses? They are our Nation's Heritage and they are our symbol of freedom, strength, and independence!

We all have a voice.

Where the wild winds blow,
Sonya
www.wildwindart.com

For more information... www.wildhorsepreservation.com/



WHAT CAN YOU DO? In your advocacy work, we suggest using these Talking Points:
Contact Your Legislators in D.C.

Please call and write your U.S. Representative and two U.S. Senators to protest the mismanagement of our wild horse herds on public lands, and to request a Congressional inquiry into Bureau of Land Management practices. Specifically:

Denounce the aggressive wild horse removal campaign currently under way at the behest of special interest groups and at the cost of millions of our tax-dollars.


Tell them that your tax-dollars would be better spent on an in-the-wild management program not based on removal.


Call for a moratorium on round-ups until actual numbers of wild horses on public lands have been independently assessed.
House Members should be urged to sponsor H.R. 1018 (the ROAM Act).

Make sure to include your full name and address and to ask for a response on how your representative intends to address your concerns. Be firm but courteous. Click here for examples of eloquent support letters.

Letters to Representatives should be addressed to: The Honorable [Name Here], U.S. House of Representatives, Washington, DC 20515. Letters to Senators should be addressed to: The Honorable [Name Here], U.S. Senate, Washington, DC 20510. Letters sent via U.S. mail make a stronger statement than emails but are subject to significant delays due to concerns over anthrax. Therefore, we suggest sending your letters in both formats (faxes are also a good alternative). To find your members of Congress, call the Congressional Switchboard at 202.224.3121, or visit www.congress.org and enter your zip code.

Please send copies of your letters to AWHPC, P.O. Box 926, Lompoc, CA 93438. Email copies are also acceptable and should be sent to letters@wildhorsepreservation.com. They will be collected and forwarded in bulk to relevant government officials.


Other Campaign Targets

Please contact President Barack Obama to let him know that you are hoping for change in the way America treats its wild horses: 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Washington, DC 20500 – fax: 202-456-2461

Do not hesitate to let Bureau of Land Management officials know how you feel about their removal policy. Call 202.208.7351 or use this web form to denounce the continued mismanagement of our wild horses and request an in-the-wild management program.

Facebook | Sonya Malecky Spaziani

An amazing photo documentation of the tenderness of a wild mustang stallion with a tiny helpless little foal... and protecting it from another stallion in an amazing battle. Wild stallions are known to kill unattended foals, especially if they are not theirs. This amazing footage carried me through many emotions, from awe, to uncertainty, fears, anxiety, and happiness....and of course some eye moisture accompanied the ride. Wild horses are amazing!

My good friend, Pam Nickoles did the photography and put this together. She works tirelessly to help save our Nation's Heritage and to keep them as they are, wild and free.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JKKWF0ZUGk



See you where the wild wind blows,
sonya
www.wildwindart.com

Riding & Dirt Clods~ at a GOLF COURSE

So, okay... so I did my own thing as a kid. Never ran with the herd, but blazed my own trails. Authority? I bucked it. But I wasn't a bad kid, just quietly rebellious.

I was about ten when I worked at a stable in California. I didn't get paid, I got one better... in exchange for grooming a string of class horses, I got to ride! But I missed the part about rules, arena only, supervision, and something about a controlled environment. A few weeks there, I blended into the goings on and was part of that ecosystem. And lucky for me at the time, those that ran the place never took notice and did their own thing or were gone at horse shows most of the time. Life was good.

One hot day, after knocking the dust off of a horse, I went to the coin-operated pop dispensers in an aisle way, and got myself an Orange Crush. That sugary-caffeine-infused-orange-stuff sure quenched my parched thirst. Holding that icy cold pop bottle wet from the condensation was great too, I rubbed it all over my forehead. My parents never had pop in the fridge, so this was a big deal to me. Surprised when I felt some change in my pocket, I had to get me some ... I remember feeling so grown up putting that change into the dispenser and drinking a pop of my choice ...I was on my own and loving it! Why am I spending so much time on this tangent, because it's better to shift the blame onto anything other than me! Yeah, it was the caffeine. Really.

It just was too hot... Hot air in a cloths-drier hot. The air was stifling and work just didn't sound appealing. Wiping the dirty sweat off my face, and chewing dusty grit and horsehair was the buzzer on my time clock. I had a good friend of mine who stabled there, Katherine, who had a gorgeous black morgan gelding named Tonka. Katherine and I spent a lot of time hanging out together and riding, growing all kinds of riding adventures. So after some caffeine and brainstorming, my 'time-clock' buzzed, and we 'checked out'.

It was eerily quite around there. What's a couple kids to do on caffeine and high fructose corn syrup and no supervision! GO RIDING! That day was a horseshow at the local fairgrounds, and the stable looked more like a ghost town. With a little caffeine rush and a few wild oats, Katherine and I saddled our horses and rode off... off the stable grounds. Have either of these horses ever been ridden off the property or trail experienced? The thought never occurred to us. I remember the exuberant feeling of riding on the dusty path that took us out of the gates.... free of confines.... the kind of free called - kid free.....

We rode up to the top of a nearby 'Californian river' (a concrete riverbed... or aquifer). With it so hot, the faster you rode the cooler you felt, most of the time we had our pedal to the metal. We rode atop this dried up aquifer, not sure where it would take us, just rode... talking and laughing most of the way. Our horses pranced and jogged, side-passing much of the way when we weren't loping, and the boys were blowing and snorting hard. Their ears twisting nervously, necks arched and glossy from sweat. We were kids, we didn't worry about their apparent emotions... heck no, they looked so pretty like that!

We rode for what seemed like hours. I was riding a beautiful bay saddlebred gelding, I didn't even know how well broke he was, or if he'd been out of the stable at all. Katherine, well she had her big black glossy morgan who was a bit head strong and a lot of horse. While prancing and side passing, he always had the look like he wanted to perform a fancy spin and run back. Like a big pigeon, he had a major homing instinct.


Well looking ahead, this big empty aquifer just kept going and going, but to our right a ways down, we spotted some lush green grass on the other side of some wild prickly desert shrubs, but to get there we needed to ride under a highway overpass. Katherine and I looked at each other questioningly, but neither of us led on that our better judgment screamed, "turn back!" So our uncertain legs urged the green horses toward the underpass of the busy - noisy highway above. I gulped (but hoping she didn't notice), and she probably said a silent prayer... but we were cowgirl tough and no way no how was the other going to know about the other's quaking knees.... Our knees shook harder as we got nearer, especially when each horse would take turns stopping, and at times refusing to move forward. It took some constant convincing with our heels and clucks, but with bits and curb chains jingling from chomping their bits and veins pronounced on their slick necks, they moved on.


So what's the big whoop? You ask. Well, to ride under this overpass was a little human footpath, not wider than a coyote trail and with a hundred foot drop to the empty concrete riverbed to our left with no guard rail. We continued squeezing our horses until they'd give... my bay gelding went on up ahead, apparently tired or my clucking and loud kissy noises, and nervous Tonka followed close behind, like a fly on flypaper. The noise of the traffic overhead was loud... cars and trucks whizzed by. It was louder once under there than I anticipated. The noise echoed between the concrete highway above and the riverbed below.


By this time the horses ears were anxiously flicking back and forth full of uncertainty ... we couldn't turn back, Katherine tried backing Tonka out, but that didn't fly... we had no choice but to carefully trudge ahead. My horse began prancing in place and when I urged him forward he began prancing a sidepass... a gorgeous dressage move! But I wasn't thinking dressage at that moment, especially when I felt a stumble. But that stumble was this bay trying to regain his footing after his left hind hoof slipped down the steep angled concrete side of this hundred-foot death drop. By instinct I remember shoving my heels in his sides and he lunged forward. The rest was a blur.


Katherine and I once safely on firm footing, looked at each other briefly and rode on in silence. Of course, both horses' knees were also shaking. But even though my own legs felt jello-fied, I didn't say a word and we cowgirl'd on.

To our dismay, that cool large and lush grassy oasis beckoning us on the other side.... was not a little garden of Eden... nope, it was a golf course! So we weighed our odds. We were certainly not going to tempt fate a second time, so the next reasonable thing was to ride through the golf course! What's the harm in that anyway? So happy with our justifications we rode our sweaty horses to the golf course. Luckily there were no fences to cut through on this ride. It was too easy to get in. Gentleman's club.... paahhhh!

Okay, so the men in their clean and pressed white shirts and beanie hats didn't look so happy we were there. Thinking they were waving and enjoying the eye candy of our gorgeous sweaty prancing horses, I realized to my dismay that they were waving their fists, and at us! So Katherine and I looked at each other stunned, but with a cowgirl smirk spurred our horses into a full heart-throbbing gallop. Looking back over my shoulder through watering eyes from the shear speed of our race horses, I could see the men getting smaller fast, but still shaking fists. Geez, but why did they look so angry and shouting? We galloped on at mock speed, with dirt clods flying....

But alright, so we were in this middle of this lush green golf course galloping faster than I've ever ridden in my life, actually watching each horse move themselves into faster and faster gears. Tonka was blowing like a warrior horse, or locomotive full steam ahead... the big black pigeon was headed home! I could see him next to my horse and they each tried to out-pace each other… each wanted to be the one ahead as they knew they were headed back to their barn! This was a rad ride, that I'd forgotten about the little bald men, and the one with the beanie cap with the shaking fist, I was feeling too exhilarated to have them a second thought! What a rush to be galloping in this great green expanse with all kinds of topography.... hills, sand, little valleys and knolls, back up steeper hills, and water! We galloped so fast that other golf parties ahead of us didn't see or notice us until we were upon them, and then galloped like the wind past them! I think it happened so fast they didn't have time to throw up any hand signals. The horses' manes, tails, and everything not sewn down was all flying. This was the most fun I'd had as a jubilant free-spirited kid. That is until I heard Katherine yelling something about not being able to stop Tonka... he grabbed his bit and was on a dead-headed run!

So yeah, I had visions of galloping my horse next to hers and jumping on and reining ol' Tonka in. T'ya, right.... the thought quickly dissipated. What seemed like a time-warp, and Katherine pulling hard and constant on the reins, Tonka like a freight train finally showed some give... with mouth open and shaking his head, she finally got him to a working hard trot. Both horses were lathered and blowing hard.

Okay, so our adventure was nearly over, and we were all in one piece. Sitting atop our still worked up horses, we were all beginning to relax, except for Tonka who with his arched neck was chomping his bit. I still hear the bit chains jingling. Settling deeper and more relaxed in our seats, but with parched throats we spotted a water fountain. We picked up the reins, and trotted on over to it, and decided to get us and the horses a drink. We hopped off and drank some water... the horses each looked sideways at this contraption with the moving parts. Somehow, still don't know how, Tonka got away from Katherine and galloped himself back to the stable. Before I could finish my question, "Katherine! How did that ha....?" MY horse got his reins out of my hands too, and together he and Tonka busted out, and ran back towards home.

They sure looked pretty galloping together. So with our cowgirl prides, we walked our little selves on back to the stable. Did we do it again? Yup, but through a game of friendly football.


Time and caffeine when mixed well together can create some good hair-raising tales, so drink responsibly!


It was good being a kid.



Your local cowgirl bandit
Sonya
www.wildwindart.com
aka: Cowgirl On Coffee
www.cowgirloncoffee.com

Horse Spit

Ah, the lazy days of summer. What a beautiful day, 81 degrees and a gentle summer breeze. Life as a ranch kid has it's perks.

The boys somehow found themselves in the newly scrubbed water trough... Of course seeing me approach, they attempted to scamper out, that is until they heard me laughing with camera in hand. Of course, having not lead our horses to water, while I was there all three horses took turns to slirp the water the boys were playing in. Reno, the playful, still baby of the herd, spent much time there wiggling her lips in the water, even after she had her fill.

The boys, being boys, marvelled at how the horses suck up the water through their lips, and of course with that there was plenty of "horse spit" involved. "Cool" was a favorite term at that moment. Of course, Reno would play in the water, drink some up, lift her head near one of the boys with water still pouring from her lips and onto one of the boys. Shreaks resounded through our little valley. I'm certain her well placed wet lips were fully premeditated!

Simple things.

Sonya
www.wildwindart.com

Starlings and Cherries

I've written a blog about a starling male that throws in various farm animal sounds when he's singing. He and his mate have a nest in the wall of my barn and they raise two broods each season, and they've done this for years. It amazes me when the male starling throws in the sounds of sheep, rooster, crickets, and even the meow of a cat to his melodic sounds for his admiring mate!

He and his mate have their second brood just about ready to "fly the coop". It's been a delight to hear their tiny nearly inaudible peeps after newly hatching, and hearing the peeps grow stonger everyday to where they become loud chirps. When my feet it the floorboards of the old barn, they hear it and chirp loudly thinking hungrily that a parent has landed with a morsel. Ever hungry and ever demanding, their parents tirelessly and with an amazing drive, bring their babies a variety of food. I can sit in the shade of a nearby oak and watch them fly in with a meal sometimes every few minutes.

They're well fed youngsters, and so quickly they grow. The parents catch all kinds of insects, and bring in a variety of seasonal fruit as well, a very well balanced meal. One day, while we were haying the pasture and moving in the bales into the barn, I watched the parents find and bring in cherry after cherry for their youngsters. I was even more amazed that the parents had partially mashed them prior to feeding, for easy eating and digestion, and I don't know for certain but I also think each one is "seeded".

The youngsters are nearly fledglings, thanks to their parents constant feeding and good care. Even with the truck backed up to the barn and me standing up on the top of the bales, they were steadfast and undaunted by me. Their babies need to be fed, and they were going to feed them regardless. They chirped loudly at us, with the intended meal in their beaks and sat on the eve watching, somewhat agitated... but after a while, continued their mission to feed the youngsters. It was certainly a sight, these pretty irridescent black little birds, carrying bright red cherries glowing in the afternoon sunlight. The marvels of nature...

Simple things.

Sonya
www.wildwindart.com

Rootballs

I can sit and watch horses tirelessly. Aside from their obvious beauty and stunning fluidity of movements.... they capture my attention in other ways. If I were to zero in on one particular detail of interest, it would be how amazing and sensitive horses' lips, tongues, and whiskers are.

I marvel watching the horses pick through their hay or grass, carefully selecting all their favorite pieces first. I'm amazed watching them pick up remnant pieces after they've polished off the alfalfa. At first glance, I wouldn't see anything, but in for a closer look I can see they're picking up the smallest of digestible materials. If it were me, I'd have a mouth and face full of dirt, probably missing any piece I was after in the first place. Horses can manipulate the tiniest of pieces finely with their lips as effectively in their world, as we do with our hands and fingers in ours.

While weeding in the garden, I pulled out some big chunks of grass, some with roots still attached and tossed them over the gate for the 3 pasture clowns to have fun with, much like my children with a pile of dessert between them. All three horses attacked the pile by pecking order, establishing their spots, and after the dust settled, ate peacefully the sweet greens. Once they picked up a clump with roots attached, their different personalities kicked in, but each effective in their own way.

They'd work on them beginning from the seed tops, working the rootball upward towards their mouth as they contentedly chewed. Recognizing this, the grass was nippled down to the roots, and with a few nods of a head, the remnants tumbled to the ground. Another, once the grass was down to the offending roots, rubbed the root end on the gate or ground until the roots gave way. The last just tenderly with great care and sensitivity and with the percision of garden shears nipped the grass around the rootball clean off, no fanfare. The youngest of the three, if rubbing it along the fence or bobbing her head didn't work, would simply step on it, ripping the rootball away from the grass.None of them looked dismayed or perplexed by the task of derooting their morsels. They went right back in for more to repeat what worked best for them, whether it's rubbing the roots on the ground, the wall, or nearby fence, or stepping on it, or my favorite, happily and gingerly nibbling the grasses down to the roots and with the aid of the tongue, spitting the rest out.

Horses are able to preform delicate tasks with their big soft mouths. They have such sensivity that I can't help but watch and marvel. But then I have to laugh when I'm working them in the corral, and notice how their sensitivity quickly vanishes, such as when asked to move off of leg pressure or yeild to the bit. Amazing and entertaining animals they are!

Simple things.

Sonya

http://www.wildwindart.com/

Sweaty Eyebrows

Okay, I have no pictures to go with this one, but no one I know would want one anyway! Some things are just better to leave in one's imagination and undocumented.

I love potato chips, especially natural and hearty Kettle chips. Yesterday I enjoyed Death Valley Chipotle, the day before Buffalo Bleu. Today, it's Sea Salt and Vinegar. I smile just thinking about each variety! Once I tried those chips, all others take a backseat and I don't think I can buy a bag of any other kind again.

Faces are expressive, but eyebrows have their own stories to tell. Mine, well my eyebrows lightly perspire when I eat something pretty spicy or "vinegary".... No worries, nothing that would make someone look twice! Just enough for me to feel a cool breeze on my eye-armor. Spicy or vinegary things like pickles, smokey Tabasco, lemon pepper, my husband's famous chipotle bbq sauce... have all contributed to this amusing oddity.

I often wonder if others experience this same reaction... but I leave it unsaid, as I am aware how it were to sound if I were to ask.

Simple things.

Sonya
http://www.wildwindart.com/

Bay Blaze

"So why do you call her Blaze?... I don't see one." I often hear when I introduce my thoroughbred mare to someone..."Oh it's there" I reply, "it's just bay". I get blank stairs, they go in for a closer look, and then some form of chuckle usually follows. You know, I've searched and searched, and this horse has not one solitary white hair on her hide anywhere... not on her nose, not in her mane or tail, not on any leg or even under her belly. Zilch.

Blaze was a racehorse, and was "blazing hot" on the track, at least that's how I like to imagine her to have been. Her name also follows her sire's track name through her registry with the Jockey Club. She's all... and a lot of horse, and an amazing athlete. My round corral is too small for this huge-strided big girl. Working her in the corral, she really wants to go- and go fast... she'll be loping her front legs, keeping her speed in check, but when she's fired up, her back legs want to go faster and they "hop" like a bunny. All in perfect time and rythm. Her muscles ripple under her velvety smooth hide, and her head is about motionless as she quickly moves about. Some of my favorite "magical" moments after working horses, is the high gloss and shine on their coat, and if it's a cooler morning or evening, watching the steam rise off their backs.

This morning, while the other two were finishing up their leftover scraps of alfalfa, I went up and climbed atop the fence to watch the horses peacefully finish their meal. Blaze gave a soft nicker and walked on over to me for a greeting. Not long after the nuzzles, did she turn her giant hindquarters to me and back-in for a good old-fashioned scratching. So I did a big job on her big hiney... layed in with both arms and all ten fingers. She stretched out her neck and wiggled her lips in response. I did that for a while until her neck slowly dropped and she stood there with one back leg resting. Of course, the next natural thing for me to do was lay my upper half right on over that big velvety butt. And so we rested.

Simple things.

Sonya

http://www.wildwindart.com/

Waitin' on the Storm

We had several days of thunderstorms. On the first day, I just couldn't sit still a moment longer while the storm rolled in. I'd watched it on my trusty radar, but it was time to go out and greet it. Armed with camera in hand, I went on to the northeast side of my old barn where the open stall faces north and east.

What better place to wait on a thunderstorm then outside with the horses? At rest in their large corner open sided stall, all three greeted me with soft nickers. After their friendly greetings subsided, they resumed their previous activities. Some were quietly snoozing, or quietly interacting with the movement of a head, cock of an ear, or nuzzled with me or my son. The youngest who always seems to be looking for food, even at rest habitually gently lipping at some remnent morsels left over from their morning meal. We sat with them and watched their peaceful behaviors, and listened to the distant rolling thunder near. Horses, for me fill just about every sense, and I enjoy teaching that to my children. So we sat there quietly and learned.

Reno's the baby of the band, and into everything...she'd ride a'top of me if she could. She's greenbroke, but she packs a saddle like a champ and is always the first to greet me at the gate when she hears the "clanging" of the halter & leadrope. Like a big dog, she's always curious and wants to follow us around to see what we're doing and how her big personality and self can fit into it and be part of our activity. She happily interacted with us when we waited on the storm, whether it was licking the floorboards of the barn, or steaming my camera lens as I tried taking pictures.

When people pay attention to the little "finite" things in their life, a whole new world of beauty unfolds before them. Sometimes one just needs to "sit still and listen".

Simple pleasures.

~Sonya

http://www.wildwindart.com/

Lightning Storm~ Frankenstein and Noodles

Awesome and humbling storm last night, it even made my computer crash! I was out with the horses until a "net" of lightning was over head. Then retreated (ok, ran like lightning, haha) to safety and watched it out the windows as well as on the computer weather radar- the National Weather Service issued a severe thunderstorm warning bulletin for our area with damaging winds.

So the computer crashed, and reviving it was more like a Frankenstein scene... you could just see me on here like mad... hair in all directions... studying the echo tops of the cells on radar, checking out lightning strikes, and intensity signatures, and facebooking, blogging, myspacing all at the same time, while I'm running out to the windows watching bolts searing the air, managing kids, consoling our shaken dog who belly-crawled into the house (not an indoor dog)... This is while speghetti's boiling on the stove... and answering the phone. Something just had to give.... Input & electrical overload, my meteorological "command center" shut down, screen went black. I sat there stairing blankly and in disbelief at the dead screen. But only momentarily...The computer revival was swift & like a Frankenstein scene... speghetti noodles were the only casualty. Storm's expected to be EVEN be better today!

What came of my speghetti? I am embarrassed to say that the speghetti noodles didn't get the recognition they deserved for their ultimate sacrifice...they're still in the pot soggy, collecting rainwater on the back deck! I only had a moment to put the burnt smoking pot outside! Really looking forward to what today brings!

Simple pleasures with a spark!

Sonya
http://www.wildwindart.com/

The Starling

I have no rooster on my little homestead but I hear one regularly. Next to my old barn is an oak tree that a silly little male starling sits in, singing to his heart's content, momentarily pausing to see who's walking below. Starling's songs are beautiful, and as I walk beneath the oaks branches, I'm stopped short when I hear a rooster cockadoodaldoo. When he does his rooster impersonation, it's somewhat quiet and strained, so it seems like it's far away, but it's direction comes to me from over my head. He goes back and resumes his beautiful melody, and then I laugh when I hear a "meow", and resumes his song once more. Over the days, I hear his songs and his farm animal interjections, including sheep sounds, and frogs.

We're entertained by this every year, and then he has two broods of babies inside the barn wall twice each year. Hopefully passing on his peculiarity.

Simple things.

Sonya
http://www.wildwindart.com/

Simple Pleasures

I'm a weather nut, the wilder and crazier it gets, the more I like it... considering there's not over-turned homes, missing people, or waters filling up in areas they don't belong. But along with the rest of what nature has to offer, I love the outdoors and all it's elements.... weather, being one of the most dramatic. Now add that into an amazing landscape, and it becomes almost mind-altering!

For days I've anticipated a thunderstorm in our area. Most of the storms are in eastern Oregon, up and over the Cascade Range from here. Many of the storms also tend to develop right above the mountains of the foothills I live in and they tend to move on up north from there. With great anticipation for meteorological events here, most of them just skirt by our homestead in our humble hills. But finally yesterday afternoon while I followed the weather tracking radar on my computer, part of the thunderstorm finally expanded enough to claim the little foothills, and I watched the cloud shadow slowly overtake us like a giant wing. Though not 'wild and crazy'... it was still a great experience and harmonious thunderstorm, nevertheless! The main activity stayed out in the mountains, but this time it was close enough to hear the rolling melody. Outdoors I went, without a look back.

The air was warm, still and sultry... as out to the pasture I fled. My 3 'over-grown puppies' came to see what I brought them, checking my pockets. I loved being out with the horses, nuzzled by giant lips, whiskers, and warm breaths on my cheeks, while listening to one of nature's beautiful ballads... the rolling thunder and it's echoes in the near and distant hills.

It's been overcast today, with some of the same conditions in play, and thunderstorms again in the forecast for later on. There's finite drizzle in the warm air and the mildest of breezes. We'll see what today brings. Simple pleasures.....

Sonya

http://www.wildwindart.com/