Wild Horses in the West Desert

Here it is June and I haven't blogged since March. It's been "one thing after another" as they say. Life has settled down somewhat. Conor graduated from high school and will start at UVU this fall in the Biotech program.  (He says he will NOT clone a new youthful body for me. That's the gratitude I get.) Niamh will be in 10th grade this fall and is enjoying 4H horsemanship classes taught by Shauna Hatch.  I finally got back to my yoga and writing--I want to finish my novel by fall. It's just time. I'm also losing weight again and attempting to eat vegetarian/vegan most of the time.

I had such grand dreams of building a bunch of raised garden beds and enjoying home-grown greens and vegetables. There's always next year I suppose, but it galls me to have a backyard that is so under utilized now that my kids are teenagers. Gardening is good exercise, too!

Yesterday I finally did something I've wanted to do for a very long time--sighted wild horses! Before I got married, I hiked and camped all over this beautiful state. I can't count the times someone would tell me that just a few weeks before or after I'd been camping someplace they'd seen wild horses there. Really?! It seemed I was destined never to see mustangs in Utah--I'd hike down canyons where they were supposed to be, and they eluded me.

A coworker at UVU, Karen Olsen, had her husband, Eldon, contact me. His hobby is photographing wild horses. He was kind enough to offer to take Niamh and I. The look of awe on our faces was his reward I think! Eldon writes a blog about his trips and posts some pretty darn good photos on it. You can see his blog at: www.mustangsofutah/wordpress.com Eldon provided drinks, food, cameras, binoculars--he was really patient and let us stop to take photos anywhere we wanted.

The place he goes to most often is the Cedar Mountains in the desert west of Provo and Orem. In fact, if I recall the journey correctly, we drove through two valleys and mountain ranges. We were 120 miles west of  the Provo/Orem area.  We drove through Lehi, Eagle Mountain, Cedar Fort--this was as far west as I'd ever been in our county. We went through the Ochre Mountains that ring the west side of Utah Lake and our county. On the other side lies another valley which to the north lies Toole and the Salt Lake airport. Over another mountain range (which is nameless to me) and down into another valley, you can see Antelope Island to the north. This was my gauge of how far west we were going.  The last hour of the trip we drove down dirt roads through broad expanses of grass and sage that fold up into mountains odorous with juniper, built of black and brown volcanic rock. Antelope grazed in the grasslands while hawks and large crows circled.

The grass was yellow and light green--flowers still bloomed in scattered patches: purple nettle, Brigham's tea with small yellow blossoms. Eldon said that in spring, when the rains come, the cactus and other plants bloom with brilliant flowers. I'd love to see that. He said if it rains again, everything will bloom again--or else  it will burn to brown.

As we approached an area called Brown's Springs, Eldon pulled over. With binoculars, we scoured the western mountain ridges for horses. The day before, Eldon had seen  a large band here and hoped they'd come again. He said of all the times he's been out looking for wild horses, only once did he not see any. He goes often at all times of the year.  In a few years when he retires, he's thinking of starting a photography and wild mustang tour business. I honestly believe he'd succeed at it.  He knows these nameless roads and trails, knows the names of the BLM horse management areas.

Cedar Mountains at Sunset

Where does this love of wild horses come from for him? It all started with a mustang colt his uncle caught off the range. He was a sorrel with flaxen mane and tail, named Desert Storm. Go to Eldon's blog to see a picture of Desert Storm. He's got a photo posted of a band of horses from the area where Desert Storm was caught--all sorrel with flaxen mane and tail. They must have come from the same blood line. "I marvel at their alertness, their beauty, and their family ties," Eldon writes on his blog.

I also sensed while talking to Eldon on the drive, that he deeply loves Utah, its landscape and history. It's hard not to--I fell in love with Utah when I moved out here and used to hike and camp alot. I have lost touch with that love of wilderness, but  found it again out in the west desert.

Those close to me will know I've been frustrated and less than happy here in Utah for the past few years. I'd forgotten what made me fall in love with this state. This desert outing brought that love for this place back to me.

We stopped in a few places, got out binoculars and scoured the flatlands and mountain ridges. We saw hoof prints and piles of manure called "stud piles." No horses. We drove farther into the Cedar Mountains. The juniper trees grew taller as we ascended into the mountains. Yellow sprigs of Brigham's tea and purple nettle still bloomed. We came to Rydalch Pass and saw a Humane Society truck parked on the side of the road.

Down the road from the truck, we stopped and watched the sides of the pass and farther to the north a place called Brown's Springs where water is pumped out for cattle. The horses find water here. It was now getting close to 5 p.m. Eldon said when it's hot, the horses come down from the canyons out in the open to get water early in the morning and late in the afternoon or early evening.

A young woman name Kayl, turned out to be from the Human Society. She came walking up the road to Eldon's truck. She does research on the effects of the PZP contraceptive drugs being used to control herd numbers. She asked us very politely what our plans were--since we were here, the horses might not come and that interfered with her work. Another truck came down the road and stopped--and older man named David was out looking for mustangs as well. He and Kayla and Eldon swapped information. Kayla said there are about 500 wild horses in the Cedar Mountain HMA.

While I was listening to this conversation, I was still scouring the mountainside for horses. It was as though shadows beneath trees shifted, shimmered, transmuted into horses. They stood quietly--a small herd of mostly paints. And with them--a week-old foal born late in the season. I let the others know and we all started watching. The band of paints moved below our line of sight into a draw or small canyon. A few minutes later they came out of the draw and were close to the road. The white part of their  manes  and coats seemed almost translucent in the desert sun.

First Band Sighted--Mostly paints and what appears to be a cremello.  

One of the paints from the first band sighted. The multi-colored mane is beautiful.

From the first band--I can't tell if it's a palomino or cremello.

The week-old foal in the first band.

Eldon pointed out another band of horses coming around the bend, galloping down the dirt road. First I saw the dust cloud their passing created--then I saw them emerge from the dust that was back-lit by the evening sun. He and David walked down the road and hid behind trees to get as close as possible. He advised us to do the same--so Niamh and I hid behind juniper trees that were barely taller than us and tried to be as unobtrusive as possible.

The Second Band--this group had a few buckskins.

Checking out the homo sapiens from a distance. 

A few minutes later, I happened to glance over to the east side of the ridge where Brown's Springs is located. A third band had appeared--they had come from the small canyon between the two ridges. They were drinking from the cattle watering trough.

Keeping an eye on the humans while drinking from the water trough. 

This mustang fits one of the images I've always had in my mind.

Niamh took some of these photos--she did a good job! Thanks to Eldon for letting her use his telephoto lenses/digital camera.

Once each band spotted us, they moved away a small distance. Then they stood as still as elk do, watching you, still as trees on a windless day. I was surprised to see how small the bands were--I always assumed that wild herds were large. Perhaps they are elsewhere, I don't know. The horses looked healthy--only one band had a foal, the week-old foal born late in the season. The young woman from the Human Society documents the effectiveness of the contraceptives that are given by injection or dart gun. The contraceptive lasts for a year. It does not affect a fetus if the mare is already pregnant. But here's the problem--Eldon told me he's seen foals born as late as November or December. That's dangerous out in the wilderness. It's not a prime time to be born, to grow and gain strength. If there's a food shortage, I don't know how the mares could provide enough milk for their nursing foals.

I asked Kayla if the contraceptives are successful, would that be a good way to manage the wild horse population and keep them out on the range. She said yes, she thought that could work.

All three bands decided to move off to the west. They galloped down the road and off into the flatlands that tided into  sand flats and dunes off in the west towards Nevada. Dust clouds rose, and the horses seemed to disappear into the dust.

Off they go--they've had enough of us.

Heading west into the sand flats and dunes, towards Nevada and the setting sun.

Raising dust clouds at their passing. 

Sand dunes off in the distance. To the north is the Great Salt Lake. To the west lies Nevada. The horses have disappeared, ghost-like, into dust and sunlight.

There are so many opinions on what should be done with the mustangs. Some view them as an invasive, feral species that should be taken off the range--and there are horse lovers among this segment. Then there are the cattlemen who want to use the BLM land for their cattle. Others feel the mustangs are an important symbol of the history of the American West and should be left free to roam.

At this time there are approximately 30,000 wild horses being kept in feedlots at taxpayer expense. They are fed. They can't all be adopted out. Should they go to slaughter to be used as horse meat in foreign countries and the revenue used to fund programs to help manage the mustangs that are still free? Or should they be taken off the range all together?

Some will say we should all eat a lot less meat, freeing up range land for the mustang and other wildlife. Some will say we should move them off the range forever and stop wasting taxpayer money to round the horses up, feed them, and use contraceptives. Some want them in refuges.

After watching these horses out in the wild, I will say I hope that a place can be made for them to live out in the wild. It's not practical, that hope, is it? I'll admit that. I love domesticated horses--Niamh's passion is riding. I enjoy being around the horses and I'm learning to ride myself. I hope to own a horse one day. The relationship between horse and human can be a very powerful connection--learning to communicate with another species is a humbling experience. (That's a whole other discussion.)  David told me about his horse who'd been a great cow-cutting horse--he had to give him up five years ago when he developed back problems and couldn't ride anymore. Retired, he now goes off into the desert to find and watch mustangs.

There were four of us out there, all of us horse lovers, all of us riders in varying degrees of expertise, all of us close to domesticated horses. And yet, we still wanted to come out here and see the wild ones. Those mustangs I suspect, symbolize something different to each of us. Looking off into the west over the ridges and canyons that eased into  flatlands and sand dunes back-dropped by more mountains blue in the distance, I was overwhelmed by the vastness of this country. The silence around us was sacred--broken only by the crow's call and the soft thunder of hooves off in the distance .

In that regenerative quiet, I truly regretted the years then in which I gave up hiking and taking time to be out in wilderness. The mustangs brought this back to me. I want to return again not only to the Cedar Mountain range and the west desert--but I want to return to other places I have loved out here in Utah--Goblin Valley, the San Raphael Swell, Mt. Timpangoos, Mount Nebo, the Uintas, Kolob Canyon. It ties back to my search to regain my health so I can visit those places again. And a return to health is also a return to my soul, to those things that regenerate it.

Last night, there was lightening in the sky northwest of my home in Provo. I imagined it sparking over the Cedar Mountains and desert, illuminating the faces of mustangs, trees, stones, antelope, and hawk. It gave me peace and an unexplainable comfort to know that all that was still out there--for now.

One last look back at Sunset. We'll come back, my girl and I. 

Slow Awakenings: Spring at the Barn'

The coming of spring is a slow awakening--details unfurl, one at a time, like an opening flower. I live in South Provo--just around the corner from my house, fields and pasture open in to marshland, then the open water of Utah Lake. Migratory birds will grace these shores for a few weeks at a time in spring. In late February as I drive to work, I will see the first calf of spring, standing on wobbly legs, warm air steaming off its little body, wrapped in mist that eases from lake to field. In pagan Celtic society, Imbolc, the holy days of late January and early February, marked the beginning of spring and calving and lambing season. Such birthing was the first hope of spring.

The geese start returning at about this time as well. We see the slow awakening at the barn as well. Mornings    begin a little warmer. The hoses, usually frozen, thaw out a little sooner; the layer of ice on the top of water pails is thinner and more easily broken. Ice turns to mud then firmer earth. When March winds blow down from the canyons and shake the trees at the perimeter of Shauna's farm, the horses are skittish, easily excited. The mares begin to cast longing glances at the stallion.

 If there are pregnant mares, now is the time we look out for the birthing of foals. Niamh and I have never seen a birth--but a few times we've arrived when a foal was about 12 hours old (they always seem to come at night!). We've petted the soft head of one of these babies, watched them stagger around the stall, looking for Mom and nourishment. There's that soft low nicker the mares make that seems to say, "Come and eat. Get warm. Stay close." A quiet hush surrounds foal and mare as the baby suckles hungrily; it always brings me back to nursing my own babies, makes me recall that deep contentment and peace of taking time out from the busy tasks of life to sit still, feed my child, and look into her face. My son came to me during Imbolc as the geese were returning to Utah Lake; my daughter came on the cusp of summer and autumn as the geese were wheeling in formations over the fields, preparing for their journey south.

My daughter and I have been coming to the barn on Sunday mornings for almost a year now. She's been riding at Shauna Hatch's for six years. I used to watch my little 4th-grader lope around the arena or take low jumps with my heart in my throat. Now, she can handle and ride one of the biggest horses in the barn and loves to jump. When  a horse she's riding gets skittish, she can handle the situation. I am convinced this will help her weather "the storms of life."

As I dump out water buckets and refill them, and as I muck stalls, I think of these things, listen to the horses breathing, chomping, snorting, nickering, bugling. They bang their feeding buckets. There's the occasional skirmish. Tasha has taught Niamh to fill the big nets with hay. Niamh is really become proficient at this. She did much of it today because Tasha had tendinitis in her hand. She commented that Niamh worked really hard this morning and how a few weeks ago Niamh's  would have been hurting--but Niamh is stronger and more in shape for this kind of chore than she was just a weeks ago.

I had my own little moment of triumphant as well--in spite of the fact I've not been doing yoga as much lately, I stuck my left leg up in the stir-up, and swung my right leg over with more ease than I have ever done. I was in more control of my body instead of just hurling it up over the poor horse and nearly throwing myself and the saddle off (this happened once!).

What I love most about time down at the barn is working alongside my daughter. And now I'm learning to ride as well--oh, I'll never be as accomplished as that girl is on a horse, but we can now share this--all the mud, the poop, cold feet, sore muscles--it's been worth it to spend time with Niamh. The hawk circling the field, wind shaking the trees, yearlings thundering across the field for the sheer joy of movement, and my daughter moving in her own dance into womanhood--slow awakenings, spring at the barn, freeing me from the fear of aging and death, teaching me to flow gently into what lies ahead.

Climbing Off the Plateau--Stepping up Exercise and Retooling Nutrition

Ah no! I reached 32 pounds of weight loss and am now on that dreaded plateau! I've been sitting here for about two or three weeks. I lose some, go back up some. I've sloughed off a bit with the walking and yoga--I'm sure that has contributed to this plateau. I keep reminding myself that my cholesterol has dropped 22 points--it is one point away from being the "normal range"; I am now taking half of my metaformin dose I have been taking for pre-diabetes; in addition, I have gone down one dress size and no longer have to shop in "women's plus-sizes".

So what am I going to do about this plateau? I really don't want to stay here! The health goals I want to reach are just to important to my quality of life in the long-term.

So here's what I know I need to do:

* Step up the cardio. Walking every other day isn't enough anymore. It is helpful, but I need to go farther. Treadmill, here I come. When the weather warms up, I'll be walking/jogging outside. I don't know how far I can  go into jogging because of my knees. I won't know until I try!

*  Start strength training. Lifting weights--which I've done in the past and enjoyed immensely. Building up muscle tissue will help me burn calories more efficiently. I've got a DVD from the South Beach Diet Recharged that has a weight-lifting routine for those who haven't been physically active for a while. I hope that starting off on yoga first--stretching and loosening my muscles--will prove beneficial as a precursor to weight-lifting.

* Re-examine some of my eating habits. Yup, soda. I don't drink the enormous amounts I used to, but I still have too much of it. I feel better drinking water, teas, and vegetable juices.

* Retool my nutrition. I've been listening to lectures and reading up on nutrition the past two months. Increasingly,  I have come to believe that for me and my particular health issues that eating a primarily plant-based diet with a high portion of raw foods would be best. (I am not saying that everyone should eat this way; this is a highly personal decision.) My best friend told me about a book, Eat to Live, by Dr. Fuhrman. This book makes sense to me and tied up many loose ends in my research.

Dr. Furhman advocates a basically vegan diet--free of  not just meat, but dairy as well. His food pyramid has  meat and sweets at the top, to eaten "rarely." At the base are vegetables, half of which should  be raw. The next layer up is fruits and beans and legumes. Above that are fat sources--seeds, nuts, and avocados, and starches such as potatoes and whole-grains. The top two layers are dairy, meet, poultry, fish, and sweets. Dr. Furhman recommends getting your protein primarily from legumes, beans, nuts, and seeds.

When I follow this nutritional pyramid, I feel better, have more energy, and lose weight. My daily menu will look like this:

Breakfast:  Oatmeal cooked in almond or soy milk, topped with fruit, some nuts, ground flaxseed, a dash of maple syrup and cinnamon. Or, it might be a green smoothie or a bowl of fresh fruit and nuts with a dollop of plain yogurt.

Lunch: A big salad with a homemade vegan dressing made from nuts or a plate of vegetables with homemade dip made with beans.

Dinner: Vegetarian or regular dinner with some meat.

 In his book, Dr. Fuhrman claims that patients who follow his eating plan not only lose weight, but are able to come off medications for diabetes, cholesterol, high blood pressure, and heart disease. I hope to see how I will do following this eating plan. I'd really like to get off my expensive medications and reach a point at which food and exercise is the only medicine I need to keep me safe from diseases. I also found extremely helpful books and YouTube lectures by Dr. John McDougall and Neil D. Barnard. The Vegetarian Society of Hawaii has an excellent YouTube channel of its monthly lectures that I found extremely helpful.

There is a spiritual and environmental benefit to eating primarily plant-based diets as well--but that is a subject for another blog post of by those much better educated in these matters than I am.

The Undiscovered Country

When I was finishing up graduate school at the age of twenty-five, I had a dream about being thirty-two. I had blossomed into a confident, gracious person and all my nerosises and character flaws were gone.

If my fifty-two-year-old self could have a chat with my twenty-five-year-old self, she's say, "Good luck with that, Cara."

Just when I think I've got life figured out, I find myself in a new situation that makes new demands and challenges of me; I have to reach inside myself for skills and gifts that are either underdeveloped or I didn't know I had. Just when I thought my career was going great and that had my life mapped out as a single person, boom, I fell in love and got married. Then I became a mother--talk about having to reach inside yourself for strength and energy you never dreamed you'd need. (I speak of those sleepless baby years.)

Right now I feel like I'm standing in a port with my two teenagers. The wind is picking up, and their ships are going to come for them soon. They'll be setting out towards their own horizons.

There's my horizon, too--the older I get, the bigger my horizons seem to get. Through marriage and work, I've made trips to Europe, worked with people from all over the world. I knew the world was an amazing place when a co-worker from Singapore announced to me on the phone one day that she had been to Iowa years ago visiting her brother who was attending a university there. "Lots of corn. That's what I remember," she teased.

I'm trying figure out what to do with the increased physical and spiritual spaces I have in my life now that my children are getting older. Three years ago I began my first novel. Last spring I became determined to get into better shape and then came the opportunity to take riding lessons. I still have this fantasy of taking up the Celtic harp, too. (Well, you never know!)

For many women, the first half of their lives becomes subsumed by work, the demands of motherhood, the demands of an unequal yolk in marriage. I lost time to write when my children were young--between working full-time and trying to be a good mother, I simply didn't have the energy or time to write. When I finally felt I had the time to do it and I gave myself permission to pursue that which gives me joy, I returned to part of my soul that gives me such joy. Some people see photos or paintings as they walk through the world. Others hear music. I hear words and poetic rythyms. I hear characters talking, feel their longings and pain. I must tell stories in the same way others must sing.

My mother is a gifted musician--surprisingly, she told me once it was over a decade before she sat down to play the piano on a regular basis after she married and started her family. She too was subsumed by the demands a family--the brave lady six of us! After my father's death, my mother played in a Dixieland jazz band for a few years. She got out there, had fun, and her musical abilities expanded. In her 40s, she went back to college and got her degree in music education. I know that education really broadened her mind. In her early 70s, she bought one of those electric piano/synthesizer do-hickies. All those buttons and switches--looked pretty intimidating to me. A year later when I came out to visit her again, she'd figured out how to use the thing--move over  Yanni. I was astonished.

Once her children were older, my mother had the time and space to rediscover her talents--to discover her own unexplored country. My writing, my health, horseback riding, yoga--these are paths to my undiscovered country. I hope to keep exploring until my last breath!