Searching for the Corner, Wild Horses

August 15, 2008

Elko County, Nevada, had 1,505 wild horses in 2003, by count of the Bureau of Land Management. Wild horses are a pain in the ass to modern ranch outfits and together with wild burros were even legislated against back in 1971 in something called the Wild Free-Roaming Horse and Burro Act. The picture to the right is not my own but was taken by BLM Wild Horse Specialist Shawna Richardson to illustrate the 2003 Elko Resource Management Plan for the four herd areas (HAs) recognized in the county: Little Humboldt, Rock Creek, Owyhee and Diamond Hills. These hosses don't know it but the BLM has a population control program in place.

The official HAs were all west and south of where I now was but straight ahead of me appeared a herd of about sixteen horses and no fence in sight. Their group photo is on the BorderWalking sister blog. They didn't look wild but they were skittish and wouldn't let me close enough to see whether they were shod or showed evidence of having been in the past so I can't say if they were a wild bunch or a domesticated string on holiday. What I can say is you could almost believe in God when you run across horses like these where the sky touches the horizon with no sign of intelligent life, including your own, in any direction.

This will offend the horse people among us but even they will eventually admit the truth that horses are not particularly smart (especially so when they stop defensively recounting the handful of examples that demonstrate supposed exceptions). It isn't how smart a horse is that crowds in on your emotions and puts that catch in your throat when you talk about them after they are gone away - either from you or from everybody - for good. More often, in fact, it is some example of particular knotheadedness rendered in graphic detail at length that begins a story of horse love. Some, but definitely a minority, start with a grudging admiration for skills. But here's the deal: Horses are catlike not doglike. Even the best-trained roping or cutting horse does its work aloof from a rider's supposed control. Even in the most synchronous performance between horse and rider, where they act as one unit, one vector of flow, one couple in a dance of motion, the horse keeps a superior presence apart.

Yes, we worked together well in that but only because I allowed it to be so, the horse all but says out loud. Noblesse pouvoir, rather than noblesse oblige, not a noble obligation but a noble power deigned for human use by a being that could as easily crush. I will dance with you because I allow myself to do so. Sadly, as with so many things, humankind has managed to crush, in their turn, submission from some of these animals but I met none of those this day. This day, alone under the sky, I was allowed into the presence of horse.

Searching for the Corner, Badges

Still August 15, 2008

Silence is one aspect of border walking. Or at least a reduction of human-induced noise. Another is aloneness - you don't usually run into many people or critters. But the Nevada borderlands were about to get almost crowded with both.

As I squatted on the knoll measuring the distances a decked out 4WD appeared, coming up the dirt road very slowly in an apparent nod to its accompanying dust cloud. It had a rack of spotlights on top framed by a pair of blue law enforcement flashers, currently off. I stood up and walked over to my truck which was half in and half out of the roadway. When I parked it, there didn't appear to be any traffic to worry about. The big-tired vehicle coming at me had 'Sheriffs Department, Elko County, Nevada' writ big on the side. It pulled in behind my truck and a large, handsome blond woman got out.

"Trouble?"

So we ended up chatting a bit. She was much younger than I first thought, probably late twenties. Her name was Stephanie and her assignment was to cruise the back roads and do law enforcing and Samaritan rescues. That seemed a bit risky for a young woman but remembering details - when she came around her vehicle to greet me she had her hand casually atop her holster and her thumb on the release snap, she had her knees slightly bent and legs spread a little wider than her shoulders, she moved to a position that kept the sun out of her eyes and more in mine, her smile was big and her eyes without fear - I figured she could probably handle herself. She had also undoubtedly already called in my license plate as she approached.

I told her what I was up to and she seemed genuinely interested and helpful. She thought my GPS unit was pretty cool but also cottoned on to its weaknesses. We spread my topographic map on the hood of her vehicle, which brought it pretty near eye level, and she traced some possible routes to the corner.

"But," Deputy Stephanie said, "I don't think there is a road like this shows that goes that close. You may have to walk it." She offered up a couple of more possible routes and then folded up my map and returned it to me. "Good luck, I hope you get there," she said, and climbed back up to her driver's seat perch, turned on the engine and idled around my truck and down the road to the south. I was alone again, but not for long.