thomas leverett weblog

they shoot wild horses don't they?

The following story says a lot about how incredible it is to live way up here high in the mountains of southern New Mexico, kind of the southernmost point of the Rockies.

There have been lots of deer and elk, and they are healthy. The elk sometimes are in herds of a dozen, two dozen, and they are quite beautiful. I'm sure some people shoot them but they still manage to do ok.

But it's the wild horses that have really struck my eye. They started out in the Apache Reservation, north of here, a wide swath of beautiful mountains, and the Apache left them alone and they thrived. Now purists will jump on my word "wild" since technically a wild horse would be one that never had domesticated blood at all - never escaped from any captivity, it or any of its ancestors. But that rules out every horse in North America. So I'll take a shortcut and say these are wilder than most - they've lived on the Apache lands for several generations, and though they get domesticated mares to sneak out and be with them, they are pretty well used to the wild life.

They do pretty well, and that's why they have crossed the border into National Forest which surrounds our village. All this land is forested, over 8,000 feet, but the grass is good and the ability to hide is excellent. They leave us alone and we leave them alone. We admire their horse-god-like beauty and their freedom. Because they are in herds, they don't seem to fear the bear or the cats. Their herds number anywhere from three to eight; at ten or more they start running each other off, splitting, looking for new territory. We see them on the highway often, grazing but being wary.

So, then, four of them wander into the village. The village is at 8700 feet and has a single highway; the schools and the parks are all along that highway. These four are eating the grasses at the schools and the parks. Some people were quick to say: that's trouble. Somebody's going to get hurt. They'll trample a kid, or hit a car, or somebody will try to touch them.

But nobody did anything. I kind of waited - my mistake. Maybe I could have taken my banjo out there or something. But to me the wise thing to do would be to run them off with annoying noise. It would bother people but it would work. And one would have to do it repeatedly until they learned. But this never happened.

Instead, one night somebody just shot all four of them, and left them there. They had to find someone to pick them up and haul them off, but they did; they have people who do stuff like that. In fact we have car accidents involving deer and elk all the time, and the result is, somebody always has to haul off a carcass. They generally know what can be done with them.

And then, the most incredible news of all: there wasn't much of a fuss about it. Maybe it's happened before. Maybe it was just as well, since somebody was going to get hurt. Maybe a lot of people secretly liked what that guy did, and didn't want to say a whole lot, but the less the better, just get it behind us and move on.

I am still regretting not being a town leader, and getting out there with a bullhorn. But I just moved here a few years ago, and I don't feel like a town leader. I'm still watching.

One thing is that it's theoretically possible to come, rope the horses, and ride them off into the sunset. Any takers? There are plenty of them left. And they're beautiful.

posted by tom @ 8:39 PM