09/02/2022
Day 1 June 2011
The very first day of the very first trip over ten years ago of photographing the Steens mustangs. Grabbed a couple horse-crazy friends and literal neighbors, checked the topographical maps and headed to Oregon's high desert in the SE corner of the state. It was the end of the day searching for mustangs and famished.... Cooking topramen with canned chicken on the tailgate... ramen never tasted so good..
Wild Horse Journal, SE Oregon 2011
We struck off for the wilds, leaving behind our families for a fast whirlwind weekend of chasing wild horses with our cameras, and being in the wide expanses of the high desert of southeast, Oregon, Steens Mountain. Steens is also known as the crown jewel of the high desert, an oasis for wildlife such as mustangs. Three different personalities, too much coffee, much laughter, high tech equipment we knew nothing about, and a ‘peacekeeper’… pretty much sums up the atmosphere. We returned the same mothers that kissed our youngsters’ soft cheeks goodbye before striking off on our wild horse adventure, but also as rejuvenated, recharged wild women from a weekend in the high desert among mustangs.
I live in the foothills of the Cascade range of Oregon on the west side and have lots of room to grow my kids and just be... without too much interference from society constraints. But it isn't until I leave the last town... the last house... and head for the great expanse of open ranges in the high desert- east over the mountain chain, that I feel…well, free.
The mustangs we ‘chased’ with our camera lenses were two distinct herds, the Kigers known for their Spanish markers, which are smaller, refined mustang with expressive eyes, typically black tipped ears, and colors are usually duns, buckskins with a dorsal stripe, and striping on their legs. This unique herd is management in a geologically isolated area away from other wild horses to preserve their unique lineage. There are also bays and dark horses among these bands. This year we were treated to two very pale foals, one of which appeared less then a week old and very light/pale in coloring, from that distance even looked white, even though there are no true white or albino horses there. The little one was with a band, much farther away and with horses who did not tolerate onlookers as well, were near at all.
The other herd management area we photographed was a well-known, easily accessible, and heavily photographed mustangs of south Steens. The colors there ranged all kinds, with a high percentage of pintos.
I’ve been viewing wild horses with my husband in southeast Oregon since 1994, but this was the first time I had gone with just friends. The way everything unfolded was just like out of my young kid dreams! On the way to where we were staying, on a whim decided to take a detour through Kiger country on the way to the historical Peter French Round Barn outside of Diamond. And by chance, we spotted a couple bands high on the hills. We decided the barn can wait, and we drove down a rutted dirt road in their direction getting somewhat closer, although they were about a mile away. I crossed my fingers that they would allow us closer, as my experience with them in the past has been very flighty- they'd spot us a mile away and be gone in an instant. This time, they stood near the top of the hill against a sky the color of a robin’s egg, and watched us as intensely as we watched them, and they provided us a terrific photo opportunities. I only had with me a tiny pocket camera, but with a relatively powerful zoom lens. So, we slowly made our way closer, meandering around the sage and rabbit brush, until we reached their ‘zone of tolerance’ and until they began moving away. We stopped, waiting for them to resume eating, and when they appeared comfortable, we moved in closer.
While there, we were also treated to pronghorns and their babies who watched our meanderings on the hillside. I was also so intent on videotaping at one point that I couldn’t even swat at hungry mosquitoes, nor did I look back at a little whirlwind whistling in the sagebrush just behind me. Jackrabbits were also plentiful.
Interesting to note was that this band was tightly grouped in proximity to one another. They were that way, when we happened to notice them on the hill initially, and they were that way when we were with them… and when they walked high up the hill and stopped, they once again stood quite close to one another. As close to one another as they were, none showed irritated behaviors, no biting or flattened ears, just quite content and calm. The only unhappy horse was the band stallion who had to worry about a tenacious contender.
The band stallion was a husky, large dark grullo, a handsome stallion. Equally handsome with a glossy coat and excellent conformation, was a bright golden dun stallion that appeared to be his contender, a rival for the band, or at minimum to steal a mare or two for his own. Band stallions have their 'hands' full with keeping watch over and not lose their harem to rival stallions. The hours that we spent there the younger stallion continued to circle the band trying to get in closer, but the band stallion kept him at roughly the same radius, behaving much like a cutting horse. The rival stallion, seemed to know all to well the grullo’s strength and kept a respectable distance for much of the time, but when he was more daring, a rearing brief fight ensued. I have no doubt that this has been going on for quite a while as they were well beyond sizing each other up. The band stallion would shake his mane and throw his head in a menacing manner quite often. It must be a serious challenge, as the two stallions rarely paid attention to us, and seemingly playing a game of Chess. The grullo’s attention was on the contender, and the contender’s attention was split between the mares, as well as keeping a safe distance from the menacing leader.
It is also quite possible that this 'outsider' was displaced by the grullo, but I don’t' think so, as he appears younger. Displaced stallions, typically tend to be aged stallions who’ve lost their edge to a more robust male. It could also be the case that the band stallion drove out a coming of age offspring and in direct competition for the harem. Band stallions will drive out c**ts even their own offspring, around 2+ years, those he senses to be a threat.... which is a good thing, a built in social order in the equine world as it is part of what aids in genetic diversity. The youngster driven out, eventually joins a bachelor band, where he can mature, and play... practicing necessary skills to earn a band of his own. As natural selection dictates... as with any wild animal only the strongest, most tenacious, best confirmation, the quickest, healthiest, and intelligent of competing males, will win the right to a ‘family’. This contender looks robust, and well muscled... at least 5, so looking at the options, he’s most likely one ready to have a band of his own. It's hard work being a band stallion, and a well-earned right.
Before we hiked it back down the hill to the pickup, we saw the grullo limping on his left front after spending much time chasing off the other mustang and fighting. It’s uncertain if that will be enough of a weakness for the contender to get an edge... who knows. Actually we'll never know bc they'll be rounded up in about a week.
Wild horse behavior is fascinating to me, if I had it my way, I’d be living nomadic with the wild herds to record herd behaviors and social order. It was difficult to leave the Kigers, the antelope, the mountain lupin, and little dust devils, but we were very happy with this experience and our photographs. On the way from the horses and toward the historical Peter French round barn, we were happily surprised by 4 one-year old coyote pups, stopping momentarily to have a good look at us before they disappeared among the sage.
We got to south Steens to scout the the painted mustangs. We saw them at the base of a rimrock wall, but it was late to hike it to them and we were all hungry, so we found a place to park and cooked dinner on the tailgate, overlooking the wide open spaces, hearing nothing but evening birds, crickets, even an occasional frog, and the hiss of the propane while cooking dinner.
South Steens horses are usually pretty easy to find, but on this particular day, they must have been tucked away in a little valley that we couldn’t spot them as readily, and spent most of the morning looking for them. As we drove farther away from their usual hangout area, headed toward the mountain…we sensed that we were 'getting colder'. But I didn’t mention it, but instead we explored the west slope of the mountain, we did, however, acknowledge it later. I thought we might get skunked and miss them all together that day. We finally parked the rig and the sense, or 'stang-radar... was to hike anyway, and look over the ridge where they usually are. We hiked north to look over the bluff- but nothing, an empty void. But you could still sense them, so we continued and pushed north and with each step, I felt like we were getting warmer… but I wrote it off simply as wishful thinking. Each little valley we looked over, again nothing. We then spotted a well-used coyote den and what looked like a horse highway in the distance next to it, which went up and over a rimrock wall. We hiked up and onto the bluff and looked on the other side- and again, nothing. I felt bad for my two friends I was making hike on simply a whim, and most possibly not find anything. But I felt the horses there- somewhere out among the sea of sage, somewhere. We saw their mineral and ‘salt lick’ spots they frequent, and the various stud piles indicating their ‘kingly domain”. But as far as the eye could see, nothing but sage, desert brush, and various native grasses.
We continued the trek, another valley, and nothing. Plenty of stud piles though and places where they enjoy salt and minerals. Finally something caught my eye, and in the distance, pinpoints of various colors of light and dark. We had all gotten very good at spotting things in the great distances and identifying boulders and cattle from horses in the far reaches of air and sagebrush.. We saw little fast specks.. running babies in this distance and knew without a doubt we finally spotted the mustangs. Excited, we began our trek towards them, meandering between the sage, wanting to get to them so fast it felt like the sage was in the way. Soon, however, we noticed they were headed back where we just came from, which meant they would go around the rimrock southwest of us. The herd was moving pretty quick, loping or casually trotting, headed back to their favorite spot. We intercepted at the rimrock and perched ourselves right on top preparing for the show. Right about the same time, we were treated to over 70 mustangs of every color...running, trotting, walking far below, and in the high desert silence, we could hear their hooves on the basalt rock, clipping or over-turning rocks. The foals were frolicking about as they followed their mothers, and the stallions positioning themselves with their family bands. The bands had come together to water, and as they were headed back to their favorite place, the distinct bands became more apparent from this ‘bird’s eye view”, high on the rim rock.
Surprisingly quite a few stopped to look at us. Their senses are amazing- very keen and aware. Some of the main stallions stood and watched us for a while, and rejoined their bands but stayed behind so they can maintain a view of the ‘families’ just ahead. But overall, relatively unconcerned and continued moving to their favorite place of rest and grazing. When they were far enough away, and when my senses returned, my friends and I hiked it back down the rimrock, and onto the wild horse highway, which passed below the coyote den. We made our way down closer to the bands.
Of course our curiosity got the better of us near the coyote den, so we walked closer to it, to assess the activity level around it, and hoped to get a glimpse of at least a pup. Of course, I was appointed the one to be ready with the iron, should something unexpected happen. Got some good photos of it, but we didn’t want to get too close to the den, as to frighten anything.
We moved on down toward the mustangs over many basalt rocks, toward the bands. I photographed one band with a palomino mare, with what looked like her two year old, and a her new beautiful c**t, who played, ate, and slept a lot on a rotating basis. A couple of the older youngsters, were curious about me, and wanted to walk in for a closer look, especially since their band stallion was comfortable with my presence. One came in too close that I had to kick up a sagebrush twig to make her walk away from me, as I don't want them feel comfortable with being too close to humans (as much as I would have loved to touch this golden beauty, it was more important to me to 'keep her wild".) I meandered between the bands, and finally came up to the band with a jet black stallion with four tall socks.
The black was an incredible stallion built like a tank, complete with a thick, long wavy mane hanging far below his neck, and battle scars. He was aware of me but unconcerned, and would stop grazing every now and then to watch me curiously, as I watched him. I'd seen him since a youngster, and gangly bachelor, and now is a force on the mountain who has a sizeable band of his own. He had one young little paint mare in his sights, the current object of his affection, and stayed right next to her the whole time we were there, rarely leaving her side except to chase off other potential suitors. He was very ‘polite’, quite the gentleman around her. He only left her side when another bachelor walked too far into his protective barrier, or "zone of tolerance", and he chased with intense ferociousness. With his mission complete, he returned to her side.
The jet black stallion was who I wanted to complete my photography time with. Content, we trudged it back up to the pickup, stopping occasionally for pictures of wild flowers or stud piles, and looking back, I snapped the three obvious bands at the base of the rimrock all. In the silence, jostled out of my thoughts and reflections of the mustangs, came a piercing scream. One of my friends had heard a rattler in the sage next to her. I was glad to find, she only heard it and didn’t need me to extract it’s teeth from her shin. She was so excited that she wanted us to come in for a closer look and hopefully photograph it. I was perfectly fine right where I was and had no intention of wrangling a rattler.
Our action-packed whirlwind trip to see the mustangs, had come to a close. It was time to head back to civilization, and kiss the soft cheeks of our children once again.
One last long look at the mustangs, and we got our things together to head over the mountain for home. Stopping at the Alvord hotsprings, we dipped out feet in the mineral water that seeps from the mountain’s base as well as a few other points of interest. We were making good time. Leaving the freedom of the open spaces, we neared the fast growing busy town in central Oregon, and I readied myself for the endless cars, buildings, and congestion. Beforehand, on the long stretch of road, I watched for birdlife on the telephone poles and fence posts. Every quarter mile or so, hawks were perched high on the poles for a good vantage point. I was pleasantly surprised to also see a gold eagle. Even more surprised, a short while later we spotted a bald eagle, this great nation’s symbol of freedom. But as we rode quietly, deep in our own thoughts and closing my eyes momentarily… I could still hear the mustangs’ hoofbeats in the stillness of the desert... mustang wild I am, as they are my personal symbols of freedom.
Keep the wild in our west and our WEST WILD!
Mustang Meg
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