Issue 6 - Summer/2008

National Wild Horse and Burro Newsletter

United States Department of the Interior
 Bureau of Land Management

In This Issue

 

"Pam's Diamond in the Rough" - Cochese

Mustang Band 

Rosie's Ride and Tie Adventure 

The Independent Mustang 

American Mustang and Burro Association 

A Tale of Mustang Love

"Pam's Diamond in the Rough" - Cochese

If you would like to submit articles for the National Wild Horse and Burro Newsletter, please e-mail articles and photos (at least 300 dpi) to Janet_Neal@blm.gov or mail to
 Janet Neal, Bureau of Land Management, P.O. Box 12000, Reno, NV 89520-0006, Phone (775) 861-6614. 

Sally Spencer, Marketing Director

Janet Neal, Editor, Designer, and Graphic Artist   

 

Mustang Band

By Harold Roy Miller

Rosie's Ride and Tie Adventure
 
By Annette Parsons, Mustang Owner

I have been participating in endurance riding since 1979; always riding Arabs. Two years ago I was beset with a rheumatoid arthritis-like condition that made it painful to do anything, let alone ride or handle a big fiery horse. I sold my Arab as I could not ride him. He was an awesome endurance horse, but quite a handful to ride.

As my condition began to improve, I tried a mule for a while but got bucked off and landed on my head further damaging my already compromised neck and shoulders. That incident shook all my confidence in being on the back of a horse.

THEN we found Desert's Golden Rose "Rosie", my beautiful mustang. Rosie is a 6-year old red dun. From the start, when I first met her, I was struck by her calm, sweet, and gentle demeanor. She has turned out to be the best horse I could have hoped for and is serving as my "rehab counselor" to help me regain my confidence in riding and being with horses. For this I am grateful. Riding and working with my horses keeps me moving and active which the docs all say is the best thing I can do for my condition. I still have pain but having this wonderful mustang to work with and ride and develop a relationship with has been extremely healing for me, both physically and mentally. 

Rosie has an impressive history for a 6-year old. I bought her from a young woman, named Chelsea. She trained Rosie and competed in her High School Equestrian Team for two years. Rosie and Chelsea won the barrel racing State Championship two years in a row.

Rosie's first endurance ride was in June. I rode her! We completed the 25-mile American Endurance Ride Conference. She wore no shoes or boots and was a total sweetheart throughout the entire weekend of camping and competing. We placed 24th out of some 52 starters in the 25-miler!

She received all A's on her vet exams and attracted a lot of attention due to her calm, sweet personality, and her unusual and beautiful red dun color. I am very pleased with her and proud of her! Because of her faith in me and mine in her, I am finally able to ride again. She is AWESOME!

   

Chelsea and "Rosie" - High Desert Classic 2007 - ©Bill Lawless

 

In 1992, I acquired my first horse. I named him Chief Gray Star or "Chief". He was a mustang and one of three stallions left at the Bureau of Land Management's (BLM) adoption that had not been adopted. The wranglers at the pens said I was crazy. Thirty days of working him in a round pen only made him stronger. Chief eventually walked through my round pen; didn’t run, didn’t jump, simply walked up to the fence and pushed it with his chest and left. He ran loose on thousands of acres of land where several dozen mares were available. Luckily for me, it was October and none of the mares were in season. It took several adults over four hours in the middle of the night; two riders and seven dogs to finally get him back in the pen and loaded into a stock trailer. In the trailer, I had Chief gelded the next day.   

I almost killed him; not intentionally, but with ignorance. I did not know he needed exercise after he was gelded. As a result, Chief developed huge edemas in his belly. He also got a blood clot in his hip and had a huge chunk of meat fall out of the incision. It had to be completely cut away and cleaned up. He also developed a high fever. I almost ended him forever, with of all things, alfalfa cubes. I was feeding them to him by the paper bag full. As a result, Chief got protein poisoning and developed large welts on his body. The welts burst open and I swear he looked like he had chicken pox. I was forced to clean the open sores. With help from others, we somehow managed to get him into a wash rack (he didn’t have much fight left) and we turned on the hose and left it on the ground. Slowly, I got one of his feet wet. It took all day but I finally got his entire body and applied medication to the wounds.   

American Mustang and Burro Association (AMBA) - State Coordinators and Chapter Secretaries

The Bureau of Land Management (BLM) offers a list of Non-BLM Resources  to assist adopter's of our Nation's Living Legends. While this information is quite extensive, it is not to be considered as all-inclusive. If you are aware of any organizations, individuals, or resources that can and should be included, please e-mail Janet Neal or phone (775) 861-6614. The sections on Reading Materials and Toxic Plants, Weeds, and Vegetation do not require permission to be listed as a reference, however, all other categories do. If you are aware of any information that is out-dated and should be updated, please contact Ms. Neal as referenced above.

The BLM does not advocate or actively support any specific information or contacts over another, nor is the BLM in a position to recommend what or whom may be best. It is the ultimate responsibility of the adopter to evaluate the information and take appropriate action.

If you are an individual, member, or organizer of an interest or resource group and would like your information listed, please contact Ms. Neal and your information will be provided to others. Please ensure that all state leads or coordinators of your group want to be listed on the BLM's national website and/or in the National Wild Horse and Burro Newsletter. Other than as mentioned above, it is assumed that all information, resources, and contacts provided want to be listed.

If you are an interest group, only names, cities, states and contact information will be provided. No specific addresses will be listed.

The following is a current listing AMBA State Coordinators and Chapter Secretaries.

Please contact Janet Neal if you are interested in having state representatives within your organization listed in the national newsletter. Please make sure all representatives want to be listed.

  
AMBA State Coordinators (SC) and Chapter Secretaries (CS)
For more information, please contact Mark L. Davis, II, Eastern States Coordinator at markLdavis@hughes.net

State	SC/CS	Name	Phone
California	SC	Rebecca Borquez	(818) 352-3634
	CS	Ann Spencer	(805) 438-3543
Colorado	SC	Janet Flick	(719) 783-2955
	CS	Barbara Flores	(303) 356-8509
Connecticut	SC	Kerrmy Comisky	(860) 267-6291
Delaware	SC	Mark Davis	(302) 422-1861
Florida	SC	Rosalie Myers	(850) 877-2467
Iowa	SC	Ann Pregler	(563) 583-3851
Louisiana	SC	Kathleen Lawson	(504) 341-6298
Maine	SC	Mona Jerome	(207) 284-8311
Maryland	SC	Barbara Conner	(410) 756-6757
Massachusetts	SC	Laura Baker	(978) 665-3379
Minnesota	SC	Debbie Larsen	(507) 281-0198
	CS	Marian Robinson	(612) 825-4955
Missouri	SC	Diana Caldwell	(660) 747-7427
Nevada	SC	Kristi Cross	(775) 267-2857
New Hampshire	SC	Susan Booth	(603) 664-2787
New Jersey	SC	Robin Rivello	(732) 742-5044
New York	SC	Sharon Douglas	(604) 739-4395
Oklahoma	SC	Jacquita Brashier	(405) 277-7080
Oregon	SC	Claude Bergeron	(541) 783-3117
Pennsylvania	SC	Darlene McWee	(724) 225-1899
Rhode Island	SC	Tammy Lamphear	(401) 377-3066
Tennessee	SC	Marcia Goins	(615) 654-2636
Texas	SC	Christie George	(713) 341-6439
	CS	Leann Brown	(817) 692-9690
Utah	SC	Gay Montgomery	(801) 745-3584
Vermont	SC	Brenda Hedges	(802) 244-8103
Virginia	SC	Kim Horn	(540) 272-2663
Washington	SC	Barbara Nave	(509) 588-5130
	CS	Nancy Pearson	(509) 588-5130
Wisconsin	SC	Barbara Bastian	(414) 354-8989
Wyoming	CS	Roxanne Richardson	(307) 868-2442

A Tale of Mustang Love

By Jean Streiff

Note from Editor: "A Tale of Mustang Love" is the diary of a wild horse adopter and the life and times of adopting and then owning a mustang. Ms. Streiff's story is being seperated into several editions for the National Wild Horse and Burro Newsletter.

Bay

This story is dedicated to my wonderful wild bay filly and to the friends, family, and strangers that helped us along the way.
 Life seldom graces us with opportunities to tap into our own potential. When it happens, it's awesome. Add a wild horse to the mix and it's magical.

The Bay mustang came into my life almost too easily. The result of a casual decision to go to a Bureau of Land Management (BLM) Wild Horse Adoption just to look and see. Adding another horse to the few I already had did not seem to be a life-changing decision. I was wrong!

The Bay taught me to never underestimate the impact of small decisions, the innuendo that surrounds us everyday, and the power of a calm word and a slow gesture. I carry that knowledge with me everyday now.

"Bay" Shortly After Adoption

It Begins With A Sunset

Life is complex sometimes. You work full time to be able to put good things in your life. Sometimes you wonder if you work to live or live to work. You sign up for as much "gusto" as you can afford. Things like grandkids, vacations, hobbies . . . . uhmmm, adopting wild mustangs from the BLM. It seems to happen too seldom, but every once in a while you realize that work is overtaking your life and you just haven’t had time recently to flavor the gusto.

The days are getting longer and you realize you didn’t have to drive home from work in the dark. So, you wander out through the pasture, cold drink in hand, just to take a minute to marvel at the daylight’s end.

The horses move away from you, as expected. They have already been fed. This is their pasture and their time of evening. Nip a little grass, suck a little water, bite on each other’s withers for a while. That is all they want and you can give them that. This is your time, too; catch a little sunset and enjoy their quiet grazing. Drink your cold one and marvel that you are lucky to have such vistas and such animals in your life, albeit little time to fully enjoy them.

You walk a little way further out in the pasture. The horses still move away. You expected that, your objective is not "them" at the moment. You stand for a minute with your face turned to the west and enjoy that slight rhythm of oneness with the sunset and the grass and nature in general. You're not focused on horses at the moment. It always seems like there's little time for that!
 
You sense movement behind you. It's the mustang. The one that you feel you put centuries into trying to tame. The one that sometimes still does Olympic leaps at anything white and crinkly, such as a spring daisy. The one you have resigned yourself will never be ridden, just too much work! The one that all your horsey friends say will “hurt you one day” if you don’t just let it be a pasture ornament.

So you stand still and she moves up behind you because she wants to. You stand even stiller and she moves to where she can press her withers to your hip. Her nose comes around to your hands which you keep absolutely still. She nuzzles your knuckles, friendly for a minute, and then gets scared by something. She tosses her head but never moves her feet. You hear a sigh and she has leaned her withers even harder against your hip. Her head is down and her eyes are half-closed. She rests her neck against your body. She is at peace with you, ready to stand by your side.

You begin to touch her. Your hands run down the back of the legs and through the girth area. Up over her off-side and around again. You even get a little bit of ear-feel in there without objection. If she moves, it is to reposition herself to step closer to you and push her shoulder against your hip once again. The other horses are bored. They graze further off. You expect her to go also.

She stays with you. You get a little bolder. Touch her in places she has been schizoid about before. You walk off four feet and leave her, expecting her to follow the other horses. Wait a minute, walk back to her after she hasn't left and reach down to lift a front leg. Tap all over the hoof and set it back down. Back off and again give her leave to walk away. She doesn't. Pretty soon you have lifted all four feet, slapped on 'em, tapped on 'em gently setting them back down. You have ran your hands all over her girth area, lifted her tail and held it out and handled her ears.

You don’t tell your husband, your kids, or your co-workers. You don’t call up your best horse-riding buddies and spill the news. You never even brag to the mustang-doubting "horse experts" in your life; your farrier, vet, or trainer. You simply glory in the moment and share it with the very few who care, those who understand it for what it is.

Just a Mustang Sunset

---

The Training Process

The first week my husband, Kenny, and I had Bay, I never imagined I would be picking up her hooves out in the pasture with no halter or anything. When we first viewed the BLM mustangs available for adoption, we could tell they were wild. But, we had a very limited view back then of what "wild" really meant. Yep, we were crazy. Like we didn’t have enough horsey-things already. We had a 10-month old stud colt, his mama that still wanted to buck sometimes, and another horse that needed to be sold. Whatever! In the spring of 2002, we went to a Bureau of Land Management (BLM) wild horse and burro adoption in Hattiesburg, Mississippi and adopted a wild mustang.

 

We took home a mustang bay filly and named her "Bay". Question number 1 popped up the very next morning, "Oh, what have we done? And how do we give her back?" We were not quite prepared for the sheer wildness of her. As far as the trailing lead rope stuff, it only took her a couple days to shed that. My husband spent 3 hours luring her close enough to get it snapped back to the halter. She went ballistic; rearing and pawing at the lead rope like it was a python trying to choke her. Next morning the darn thing was in the dust again!

Jean Streiff with "Bay" working in the round pen

 

A few weeks after we adopted her I could feed her out of my hands and began working with her in the round pen. She started

"Bay" resting - left (picture after titled)

stopping and turning to me, walking towards me, licking her chops, and generally acting like she wanted to play the game right. She has NOT ONCE pinned her ears back, bared her teeth, lunged at either of us, bucked or kicked. She was just genuinely afraid of people and being touched by us strange creatures.

 

Taming the Bay was new, exciting, and magic, all rolled into one adoption of one wild horse.

 

She appeared terrified of oats. That process took two days and then she stomped a hole in the feed bin. We came to the conclusion that she had definitely never had oats and the sound of them rattling around was the scary factor. However, she would eat carrots out of our hands.

 

In an effort to alleviate the fear of oats, I got down on the ground on my side of the fence. I laid on my back and stretched an arm out to her, palm up, full of oats and arm flush to the ground. I closed my eyes and let her come to my hand on her side of the fence. It was almost a magical feeling knowing she was so close timidly making her way to my outstretched hand.

 

We tried things the “whisper” way with her running around the round pen and us waiting for her to give in. She kept her nose tipped to the outside rail not looking at us or giving in. It felt better when we tempted her with food, though we knew that horses aren't like dogs and food/treats just doesn't motivate them the same way.

 

We found out much later that mustangs are different. Food and treats are a big motivator. We rarely give our domestic horses treats. Wild horses have a completely different response and attitude. Kenny and I could readily feed her treats out of our hands but only if it was offered from the fingertips. That way she absolutely did not have to touch human skin in any way. 

Jean offering "Bay" treats

I started offering her treats in my right hand with my left hand extended past the one with the treat. That way her head had to come past my scarey left hand to get the treat. I did not move at all. If we touched, it was because she got to close. The first few times she wheeled away. She could not tolerate being very close to the stationary left hand. She touched me once accidentally, tossed her head and rubbed the spot on her face where we touched. Bay did this for several minutes on the rail. Trying to get rid of my cooties, I guess? 

 

I remained steadfast in not touching her first. It was hard to resist the urge to reach out and dob a pat on her face; touch her kind jaw, feel her soft velvety muzzle, and smell that wonderful horsey-scent on my hand. But, I knew she needed to touch me first. I had to put myself on horse-time, not people-time and let her decide when she was comfortable enough to be touched. Logically I knew that if I reached out for that pat on her jaw, training would have slid backwards. I would have undone some of her trust in me.

Bay learned to love oats! But, she did have to put up with me! I put my whole arm in the bucket. When she dropped her head in she had to share space with me. I kept my arm plastered to the inside of the bucket as far away as I could. Everyday, she became more and more accepting of the presence of my body part in her oats and left her face buried in the oats and oh-so-close to my arm for longer and longer. It felt like progress.

I felt this concept of her putting her head into my space, practically encircled by my arms, to get her feed or treat, was important in her building trust in me. It put her in the decision-making position. She could brave an accidental touch and learn there was no harm and no hands groping for her. Later, she could submit to the feel of my hands, on her own time, knowing there was no danger there.

The "Stang" got loose!

 

There is nothing like a wild horse round up first thing in the morning. Bay and the bucking quarter-horse nosed their panels until they pushed them all over and got the chains off. Bay and the mare were in the wide-open pasture grazing side by side. Talk about being scared! I had no idea what her concept of fencing was but I am sure she spooked bad enough to make it through several fields of barbed wire before she stopped to ask directions.

 

We were lucky the quarter horse was with her. We haltered the quarter horse and led her back to the barn with oats. Bay followed. At least we had our "Judas" horse and, of course, the oats and our Bay back.

We finally got the lead rope back on the halter by tricking her with carrots. She went ballistic; rearing, pawing, crowhopping, crashing into everything. I was so afraid she was going to hurt herself. After she calmed down, I worked with her the rest of the afternoon. I could finally lay my hands on the lead rope, close up under her chin, and add a little pressure. She faced up and even took a step towards me. It was definitely slow-going; bit by bit. When she gave a slight nod or even just lifted a hoof when I pulled on the lead rope, I'd release and walk away; pressure and release. A little reward for her in horsey-body language. It was hard to judge Bay's reactions and read what she was ready to try next and when she was ready to try it. She seemed to trust me more when I was in the pen with her rather a fence or a panel between us.

 

I worked Bay a little more with the lead rope; practicing facing up and getting her to take a step toward me. When she seemed to be thinking she would dip her head to nose behind her left knee. I had to be very careful not to apply too much pressure.
 

Bay is definitely a "one of a kind" horse. A Mustang! It's gratifying to see the trust develop and build on that trust. It's hard work, but worth every ounce.

A Tale of Mustang Love - to be continued . . . .

"Pam’s Diamond in the Rough"- Cochese

By Maria T. Wilson

My Mom's best friend and co-worker, Gwilda Byrd, kept bragging about her mustangs, especially Mirage. We did some research and decided that’s what we wanted. In May 2004, we went to our first wild horse and burro adoption in Florida. Several adopters and volunteers were there from the Florida Wild Horse and Burro Association, including Gwilda and her husband, Tom.

We got there on Friday full of excitement and anticipation. There were 145 horses and 20 burros to choose from. Everyone told us that we should get yearlings since they would be our first horses. My Mom and I searched each pen looking for that one that "picked" us. We passed pen #13 and a little 15 month-old brown colt caught my mother's attention. He was at the back of the pen and when my Mom passed, his ears perked forward and he pushed his way to the front. He sniffed her and then turned sideways to allow her to scratch him all over. Mom was hooked. She was in love.

She was warned not to let people see her love on him. She was the only one that could anyway. As soon as she’d walk away he’d go to the back of the pen. When he’d see her in the crowd again, he’d push his way to the front to greet her. I asked her, "Mom, are you sure you want him. He is so ugly". She stuck her tongue out at me and told me he was the most gorgeous horse she had ever seen.

My mother never really met a strange animal. Somehow, she could see through to their soul. She had quite a bidding battle to adopt him but her stubbornness won. I picked my mustang and our enablers, Gwilda and Tom, brought our boys home. Mom named her little colt, Cochese, and I named my new friend, Cody. They let us groom them the day we brought them home. Cochese would only allow my mother to touch him. He would have nothing to do with me. He was definitely my Mom's and that was it. We spent 3 hours a night with them and most of the weekend.

The following month my mother was diagnosed with cancer. Five weeks later she passed away. Her last words were, "I wanted to train and ride my first horse; my Cochese!". The bond those two had was phenomenal. Cochese became very angry and would stand at the gate for hours waiting for my mother to come out to see him. He would not allow me, my sisters, or my nieces to touch him. He would lash out at me. He even stopped eating for awhile. I felt as though I needed to find him a new home. He was so upset. I wanted to keep him but he was so unhappy. Gwilda agreed to have him reassigned to her. She came over to watch him and then turned to me and said, "Maria, we all grieve differently. Please give him a second chance. You need each other."
 
Horses grieve??? It never occurred to me. He was reassigned to me and I changed my approach with him. One day, he took a deep breath and rested his forehead against my chest. He chose ME. He became my pocket pony! He opened the door to so much learning and understanding for me.

The past seven months have been especially hard on me. I went into what is known as "situational depression". I lost sight of the horses, dogs, cats, and myself. I was giving them food and water, but, lost sight of them. One spring morning I had the back door open. I heard Cochese calling. He has a very theatrical range to his voice. I looked out and there he was in the back field calling to me. He snapped me out of that depression and back into reality. I walked up to him with him "talking away" at me, wrapped my arms around his neck and cried. In my mind I thought I was loosing everything. I had given up. But, Cochese didn’t give up on me. He nuzzled me and kept his nose on my arm as if to keep in touch with me. We slowly walked back into the yard and back into his pasture. He rested his head in my arm. Cody ran up to me and nuzzled me. He threw his head over my shoulder and with his chin, pulled me to him. I was able to hug them both.

Where Cochese is a bit of a "wild child"; boundaries - what boundaries? Cody is the strong silent type with a certain respect for boundaries. They circled me and I realized at that moment Cochese and Cody had brought me back to the herd; my family. I needed them as much as they needed me. They are my pride and joy.