The BLM handlers ran the herd down to a smaller corral, where they could then separate the herd into small groups. Then the work of sorting began. My crew and I were the ones standing on the platform, saying yes or no and pointing out which Mustangs I wanted so the BLM crew knew which gate to open. One door went back to the main corral and the other to an even smaller corral that would hold the mustangs that fit the bill. After making our way through the herd, there were ten left, which included the top five on my list. After watching them move around for a little while longer, the herd was whittled down to five, then four, then the final three. All this took less than an hour, which surprised the ground crew and the director of the facility as they didn’t know about the homework I was doing ahead of time.
With a few more steps of verifying the BLM’s paper work against the freeze brand, a few gates slamming shut, the sound of diesel trucks, the rumble of horse hooves as they charged out of the squeeze and into the horse trailer, slamming the door behind them, it was over. The Wild In Us had truly begun, but the work was only about to start.
Now you’re probably asking, how do you transform a totally wild animal into a willing one? I know I was. Actually, it’s pretty simple. Trust. There’s an old saying when it comes to mules and training them, “A mule does not want to see just your application but demands to see your whole resume.” A mule is a thinking animal, so is the mustang. With that in mind, I began the dance. The mustang dance, a dance of approach and retreat. Emulating how they behave in the wild to create the common language between us. Once I spent a sufficient amount of time on the ground with them, being the only person that brought them food and water, I moved in the walls of the corrals. I had set up a run between the 3 corrals that went straight to the square pen just by opening or closing the right door. Why a square pen? I know round pens are mostly used but before the first touch a square pen offers up a release from the pressure. A round pen is the same amount of pressure with me standing in the middle. If the mustang wants to, he can stand a little further away in a corner. He’s not stuck in the corner, he’s just thinking. He’s thinking about the basic things, the first of which is how do I get out of here, and If I can’t, should I try to kill you, or are okay. This is where the time spent dancing around really paid off. By the end of the day, the first touch happened, and everything came falling into place after that with relative ease. We had formed a common language of trust. Not to say it was easy, but there wasn’t much of a fight.
I added more every day and little by little we worked towards being ready to hit the trail by April 2017. Every day started where we left off the day before. Adding more, skill by skill, gaining trust with each other, until the point that we could finally ride out on the open range. With no one by our side, one by one, we ventured out. Surprisingly enough, being out on the open range was much more inviting and excepting then the time spent in the arena.
There would still be arena time to correct and focus on the finer details but mostly we would spend as much time as possible alone, riding along the western slope of the White Mountains in the Owens Valley. Conditioning them, as much as myself, building the miles and hours in the saddle with every day. If I wasn’t studying maps and working on my spread sheets detailing where I would camp, then I was in the saddle, adding more miles to the ride before, exploring new sights, new smells, new sounds, and new-found trust without borders or panels.
For those that spend time in the saddle, you’ll know what I’m talking about when a man says, he can solve his problems with an hour or two in the saddle, for the world begins to come in focus. The long training rides weren’t just conditioning our bodies, but they were helping to create clarity on the logistics of this ride. So much was un-known. Through networking, I was able to put together a storyline of what might come ahead by talking to those that have ventured out on the PCT in sections. With these small bits of information, I was able to put together a greater understanding of what to me, was the great un-known.
With a few more steps of verifying the BLM’s paper work
against the freeze brand, a few gates slamming shut, the
sound of diesel trucks, the rumble of horse hooves as
they charged out of the squeeze and into the horse
trailer, slamming the door behind them, it was over. The
Wild In Us had truly begun, but the work was only about
to start.
Now you’re probably asking, how do you transform a totally wild animal into a willing one? I know I was. Actually, it’s pretty simple. Trust. There’s an old saying when it comes to mules and training them, “A mule does not want to see just your application but demands to see your whole resume.” A mule is a thinking animal, so is the mustang. With that in mind, I began the dance. The mustang dance, a dance of approach and retreat. Emulating how they behave in the wild to create the common language between us. Once I spent a sufficient amount of time on the ground with them, being the only person that brought them food and water, I moved in the walls of the corrals. I had set up a run between the 3 corrals that went straight to the square pen just by opening or closing the right door. Why a square pen? I know round pens are mostly used but before the first touch a square pen offers up a release from the pressure. A round pen is the same amount of pressure with me standing in the middle. If the mustang wants to, he can stand a little further away in a corner. He’s not stuck in the corner, he’s just thinking. He’s thinking about the basic things, the first of which is how do I get out of here, and If I can’t, should I try to kill you, or are you okay. This is where the time spent dancing around really paid off. By the end of the day, the first touch happened, and everything came falling into place after that with relative ease. We had formed a common language of trust. Not to say it was easy, but there wasn’t much of a fight.
I added more every day and little by little we worked towards being ready to hit the trail by April 2017. Every day started where we left off the day before. Adding more, skill by skill, gaining trust with each other, until the point that we could finally ride out on the open range. With no one by our side, one by one, we ventured out. Surprisingly enough, being out on the open range was much more inviting and excepting then the time spent in the arena.
There would still be arena time to correct and focus on the finer details but mostly we would spend as much time as possible alone, riding along the western slope of the White Mountains in the Owens Valley. Conditioning them, as much as myself, building the miles and hours in the saddle with every day. If I wasn’t studying maps and working on my spread sheets detailing where I would camp, then I was in the saddle, adding more miles to the ride before, exploring new sights, new smells, new sounds, and new-found trust without borders or panels.
For those that spend time in the saddle, you’ll know what I’m talking about when a man says, he can solve his problems with an hour or two in the saddle, for the world begins to come in focus. The long training rides weren’t just conditioning our bodies, but they were helping to create clarity on the logistics of this ride. So much was un-known. Through networking, I was able to put together a storyline of what might come ahead by talking to those that have ventured out on the PCT in sections. With these small bits of information, I was able to put together a greater understanding of what to me, was the great un-known.
In her brutal honesty Mother Nature molded an animal that could walk thirty plus miles a day from water source to water source