Golden

Chapter 1

Beginnings

The newborn horse stood for the first time on his long wobbly legs.

It was Springtime on the Red Desert in southwest Wyoming, and after being pregnant for eleven long months, the foal’s mother had wandered off from the wild horse band and found a secluded location up a narrow arroyo. There, in a brushy area hidden from view, she gave birth to Golden, a beautiful 85 pound palomino the color of the mid-day sun.

The little foal’s mother, a pretty white mare, nuzzled him along, encouraging Golden to take his first steps. At first he was unsure of himself and very unsteady. He swayed and then plopped right down. His mother prodded him until he stood again, and this time he stayed up longer, experimenting, learning how his legs worked and feeling excited about moving around.

In the days after his birth Golden quickly became steady and soon learned to run alongside the white mare. After two days they rejoined their band of mustangs. Three of the other mares in the band had also recently had foals. One mare was a chestnut color and another a roan and their offspring were the same color as they were. The other mare, gray with a dark mane, had given birth to a black foal with a white blaze down it’s face and one white sock. A fourth adult mare, the lead mare of the band, had not had a foal of her own that season.

Wyoming has 4000 wild horses and a fourth of these roam the region around Rock Springs called the Red Desert. It is a large unfenced area of about 6 million acres.

Golden was lucky to be born into a place of such wide open freedom.

The young horse usually stayed close to his mother. Like most horse mothers, the white mare was very protective of her little foal. Although there were not wolves or many mountain lions to worry about on the Red Desert, there were still dangers to be encountered in the daily life of a horse, especially a newborn. Once when Golden was resting and his mother grazed just 30 feet away, a giant Golden eagle with over a six foot wingspan swooped down from its nest high up in a nearby butte and nearly attacked the helpless young horse with its dagger like talons. A last second lunge by Mom managed to scare the eagle and save the foal from serious injury.

Another time, at dusk, two coyotes tried to sneak up on Golden while his mother drank from a nearby waterhole. The coyotes were stealthy, moving closer and closer, remaining totally silent. Golden never saw them as they approached. But luckily the herd’s big bay stallion was on the alert and came thundering to the rescue, galloping right over the top of the coyotes, sending them scurrying away on the run, yelping with their tails tucked between their hind legs.

As the weeks rolled past and the foal could better keep up with his mother, she relaxed enough to allow little Golden to play with the three other foals in their band. All four youngsters stayed close to their mothers for most of the day, but they got to play with each other when their moms happened to all graze on the same hillside.

The foals then would run round and round, sometimes even jumping into the air. Playing was the happiest time of their day.

While the foals romped around and their mothers grazed or rested, the protective lead stallion kept a lookout for danger while the lead mare, a medium size chestnut horse without a foal and with a very long mane and tail almost to the ground, had the job of leading the band to new grazing areas and finding places where the band could drink water.

Soon it was mid-summer. Golden and the other foals were growing fast.

In August, when he was three months old, Golden accidentally stepped on the tail of a rattlesnake. The six foot snake had been resting behind a large rock with only the end of its tail, which contained eight rattles, sticking out to the side. The snake never sensed the horse walking near so did not rattle a warning. And Golden never saw the snake. What happened was as quick as a flash. As Golden walked past the rock his right front hoof came down upon the tip of the snake’s tail. Instantly the rattlesnake whipped around and sank his fangs into Golden’s lower leg. The foal squealed and jumped clear and as he did so the snake let go and slithered off into the nearby sagebrush. The entire episode lasted less than two seconds.

The bite was one inch above the hoof and started to hurt immediately. Golden at first kicked and ran and stomped, trying to rid himself of this discomfort which he didn’t understand. But there was no escape from the increasing pain. In less than two hours there was swelling over the two pastern bones and Golden began to limp. He could no longer put weight on his right front hoof. He whinnied softly and his mother spoke back to him with a nickering sound. She nuzzled him and stood close by.

The swelling continued to get worse. Eight hours after getting bitten, just before sunset, Golden’s lower leg was swollen to almost twice the size of normal and had become very discolored. The pain was awful. The little horse could no longer stand and laid down on his side. He no longer felt like nursing. His mother walked nervously around him, whinnying in distress. She was helpless to do anything except watch as her foal suffered in pain. Golden’s situation made the rest of the band uneasy as well. The other horses could all sense that something was terribly wrong.

During the night Golden’s condition only got worse. His fever rose to 104 and his pulse became fast and weak. Not being able to eat or drink, he became dehydrated and very weak. Twenty-four hours after the snake had bitten him, infection had set in and the skin above the hoof started to slough. An open sore developed and kept enlarging.

Golden’s mother knew her foal was in terrible trouble. She kept prodding him with her nose until he finally stood up. He was wobbly but was briefly able to stand on his three good legs. He managed to nurse for several moments before falling back down.

During that day and the next the devoted white mare forced Golden to get up every few hours to nurse, even if only for a few minutes at a time. Each time after drinking his mother’s life-sustaining milk the foal would collapse back down and lay on his side.

On the third day the fever broke and the swelling started to go down. When rattlesnakes bite they have the ability to regulate how much venom they inject. When they strike in defense—as was the case when Golden stepped on the snake’s tail—they often inject only a small amount of venom. In this regard the little foal was lucky. There had been enough venom to make him very sick, but the amount had not been lethal. Golden would recover.

By the sixth day the youngster was up and walking with only a slight limp and by the tenth day after the bite he was running again and playing with the other foals. The crisis had passed and Golden’s mom and the rest of the band settled down.

The horses moved from day to day, never remaining in the same place for long. The lead mare, a twelve year old horse, was experienced at finding good grazing and fresh watering holes. For the four foals water was not as important as it was to the adult horses since the youngsters were all still nursing. The foals did drink some water when it was available, imitating the older horses, but they much preferred their mothers’ milk.

The foals grew bigger and faster. No longer were the coyotes a threat and eagles now left them alone. Life was becoming more carefree with it only being necessary to pay attention to not step into a prairie dog burrow or on to a prickly pear cactus or a resting snake. There was an occasional mountain lion prowling the Red Desert, but the horse band never came across one.

Golden was four months old when he encountered the first frost of the season in early September. At first the sparse watering holes would barely freeze overnight and the thin sheets of ice always melted by noon. But as more weeks went by and the temperature kept dropping the water stayed frozen for longer and longer each day. One morning Golden tried stepping out on to the ice of a frozen puddle only to have the ice crack and frighten him as his hoof splashed into the shallow water beneath. He whinnied and jumped back. The foal found it curious that smoke now came out of the nostrils of all the horses in his band, even from his own nostrils. It was equally puzzling to him when this smoke disappeared as the temperatures warmed by mid-day.

All the horses were growing their winter coats, but Golden’s nostrils remained exposed and the ever more frigid air did not feel pleasant. He sometimes shook his head but the cold sensation remained. He would just have to get used to it.

Snow started falling one day in late November. It blanketed the hills and buttes and the rolling sagebrush prairie in a white softness that brought silence to the land. The temperature plummeted. Waterholes now froze and did not thaw. More and more snow fell. Mule deer and pronghorn migrated down from the higher country of the Wind River Mountains and the Upper Green River Basin to the north and spread out across the Red Desert. Predators followed and in the Jack Morrow Hills area even mountain lions appeared, ready to hunt the deer and elk. Young Golden and the other foals did not know the seasonal cycles of wildlife and weather yet, but the older horses did, by instinct and by learning over many generations. They would pass on some of this knowledge to their offspring.

The winter months were stressful on Golden’s band, as they are on most kinds of wildlife. The horses had to paw through snow to find sage to graze on and with the waterholes being frozen they were forced to eat snow to stay alive. Luckily for Golden and the other foals they were still nursing so most of their nourishment was provided by their mothers. When Golden was born back in May he usually nursed four times every hour. But now that he was older his mother would allow him to get milk only once every two hours. It was the same with the three other foals and their mothers. With each passing month Golden’s mother seemed more and more reluctant to let him nurse. He sometimes went hungry and had to use his hoof to paw through the snow to find food, just like the adult horses did. When he nickered his mother often still did not allow him to nurse. Golden was forced to eat snow to quench his thirst. He did not like the coldness in his mouth. It was a foreign and unpleasant sensation to him, but he was learning gradually what a wild horse had to do to stay alive and healthy.

One cold January day the lead chestnut mare brought the band to a gulch at the edge of a high hill. The almost constantly howling wind had blown most of the snow off of a large patch of ground exposing the dry sage beneath. The chestnut horse was good at finding areas for her band to graze. The other horses depended upon her knowledge and instincts. They spent most of the afternoon grazing at the spot where the narrow gulch opened on to a flat plain. The band’s lead stallion kept watch, briefly grabbing mouthfuls of sagebrush here and there, but always lifting his head quickly and looking and listening for signs of danger. Despite this constant vigilance he did not notice the mountain lion crouched behind a small rise at the bottom of the gully. The lion had been present when the horses approached an hour earlier. He was biding his time, watching and waiting for it to get dark. The wind was in his favor, blowing away from the horses and toward him so the lead stallion did not catch his scent.

Soon after dark the horses took a break from grazing and settled in to rest. Horses can sleep on their feet or laying down on their sides. On this cold winter’s night all the horses remained standing. Golden and the other eight month old foals leaned against their mothers in order to block some of the wind. A few of the horses napped while others remained awake and alert. The lead mare and stallion closed their eyes for only a few moments at a time. The wind blew noisily from the west right past the horses and into the gulch where the mountain lion crouched and waited. The entire horse band had their tails facing into the wind with their heads toward the gulch. There was no reason to suspect trouble.

The direction and noise of the wind and the darkness gave the mountain lion the opportunity he was waiting for. The lion would rather have attacked from behind the horses but they were all facing toward him. The big cat put his belly flat to the ground and very very slowly slinked towards the closest horse which happened to be the mother of one of the pinto foals. The foal was standing on the mare’s left side, hidden from the cat’s view. When the lion was thirty feet from the mare he burst forward with a powerful leap through the air and landed on the horse’s right shoulder, grabbing her neck with both front paws and biting down. The mare’s eyes went wide with fear and all the horses immediately stampeded off in terror. The pinto foal’s mother twisted and bucked with the cat holding tightly to its grip.

If the lion had attacked one of the foals instead of an adult horse he would have had an easy meal. But the twisting and bucking mare was not so easy to hold on to. To make matters worse for the lion, the lead stallion had not run far off and now returned and was ready to protect his mare. The lion tried desperately to bring down the horse, hanging on with his fangs and claws. But all he could do was hold on as the mare thrashed around, desperately trying to rid herself of the large predator.

At last the horse did fall to the ground with a thud, still in the clutches of the cat. From the bites and claw scratches there was much blood all over the front of the horse and on the cat as well. Once on the ground the mare did not give up and kicked ferociously, even rolling over and almost crushing the mountain lion as she did so. But the cat held on and bit down even harder. Luckily for the mare none of the bites had yet penetrated a big artery or vein.

While the mare was still standing and twisting and bucking violently with the lion dangling off her front end there was not much that the lead stallion could do to rescue her. But as soon as the mare toppled over and both lion and horse hit the snow-covered ground the stallion charged in. With nostrils flaring he turned and tried to kick the lion with his hind legs. One hoof made light contact with the lion’s rump but this did not dislodge the big cat. The enraged sorrel then rose up on his hind legs and came down with both front hooves right next to the mare’s neck barely one foot away from where the cat held on. This caused the lion to let go with his fangs. He gave out a low growl while continuing to grasp the mare’s neck tightly with his claws.

The stallion ran up and back breathing heavily, stomping the ground and whinnying loudly The injured mare managed to give a low whinny in reply. The stallion rose again, pawing the cold night air above where the cat held the mare in a death grip. The lion gave out a hideous scream at the sight of the powerful hooves directly above him. For the first time fearing for his own safety, the cat let go of the mare’s neck and rolled to the side. Just as he did this, one of the stallion’s hooves came down directly on the lion’s skull, killing him instantly. All was still for a moment and then the stallion walked around the mare, nervously sniffing at the wounds about her neck and nickering softly.

The stallion prodded the body of the dead cat with his front hoof to make certain it was no longer a threat. Then leaving the mare, the stallion trotted off to the north about one half mile to where he found the rest of his band anxiously milling about. He circled behind the small group and herded them back toward where the hurt mare lay on the ground in the snow. At first the horses were afraid to head back in the direction of where the lion attack had occurred and the stallion had to be persistent, nipping at one of the mares and a foal to keep them moving. Eventually he was successful in reuniting the band with the downed mare. Her foal walked over and stood by her side not really understanding what had happened. All the youngster knew was that his mother was laying on the frozen snowy ground and that there was blood spattered all about. He could smell the blood as could the other horses. It made them all nervous. So did seeing the motionless body of the great cat just a few feet away.

The horses all stood around, whinnying now and then and keeping their ears alert and moving, listening for any suspicious sounds in between gusts of wind. After about two hours the injured mare was able to stand up. She was a bit wobbly at first and having the cold wind blow against her did not help matters. But the bleeding had stopped and she still had her senses about her. Her foal began to nurse as soon as the mare was steady on her legs.

Golden stayed very close by his mother throughout the remainder of the night, and it was the same with the other foals and their mothers. The two yearling horses in the band stood by each other. The lead stallion remained ever vigilant, keeping watch over the entire band.

There was a sense of relief when dawn came. As the sun rose in the east the wind let up until it was only a mild breeze and the land, although very desolate looking blanketed with two inches of snow, seemed calm and peaceful compared with the experience of the previous night. The lead mare took the band in a westerly direction, away from the gulch in which the mountain lion had hid. She located a seep in which there was still water that had not frozen. All the horses drank, even the foals. Golden was used to drinking warm milk from his mother, but he did not find the cold water unpleasant. The mare that had been injured by the lion drank the most. She had lost a good amount of blood and needed to replenish her system.

Golden was learning much about life. He was only eight months old and already knew about rattlesnakes and mountain lions, about pawing through snow to find food and about eating the cold white substance that blanketed the land when there was no water to be found.

Late in January, on some of the coldest and longest nights, Golden saw a bright greenish white curtain of light dancing across the northern sky. The strange sight did not disturb the older horses and so Golden was not disturbed. Occasionally these northern lights were accompanied by a faint crackling sound. Whenever these lights appeared Golden and his mother stared up at them, with their ears cocked forward trying to detect any sound, watching and listening intently until the lights faded away just as mysteriously as they had appeared.

There were no more threatening incidents that winter. Golden’s band wandered the prairie under the guidance of the lead mare, grazing in the areas she selected and drinking wherever she was able to locate water. She usually drank first and then the others would follow. When she located waterholes that were frozen over the horses tried to break through the ice with their front hooves. Sometimes they were successful and other times the ice was just too thick and the water was frozen through and through. At one water hole Golden imitated what he had seen the adult horses do and he stomped soundly with his front left hoof on to a frozen puddle that was four feet in diameter. On the third stomp the ice gave way and he broke through with a sudden splash, scaring himself. He jumped backwards with a squeal. The other horses all looked in his direction until they realized that nothing serious had happened. After that experience Golden knew what to expect from breaking ice and was never frightened by it again.

Chapter 2

Second Spring

The coming of spring is just as welcome to wild horses as it is to people. With increasing daylight and warmer days and nights the rigors of winter are soon forgotten. While Golden and the other foals were coming up to their first birthdays, there were two members of their band that would soon be two years old. One was a black colt with white stockings on three legs and the other was a bay filly. The lead sorrel stallion was becoming more and more intolerant of these two