The calendar insists that Fall is still nearly a week off, but the mercury reads thirty-seven this morning, and the air’s edge is knife-sharp. Our instincts seem to be supported: This will be an early winter, and a hard one.
We’ve been seeing an increase in the signs already: the changing of the leaves across the road a month ago, the gold and red now rapidly encroaching upon our own on this side. The departure of the wild birds of summer and even fall to early; the arrival of the winter birds; those that live here year-round already donning their cold-weather robes. The telltale sign of a young bear who stripped the pear trees of their fruit and then wandered up the drive, mere yards away.
It means that the time is here, almost two months early, for winterizing: for wrapping pipes and hoses, for installing weather stripping, for digging out the electrical element for the horses’ water trough. It also means that we will see, increasingly, appearances by wild creatures forced out of their usual safe spaces in the search for food for the winter, and visits by animals often once-domesticated, abandoned or otherwise left to fend for themselves, seeking sustenance. Sometimes, as with the wild horse horse who came to us two Christmases ago, they also seek a herd, and home.
Because there are wild horses yet in this place — mustangs, and their mixed-blood descendants. Some have always been wild; others, like the one now our own, were tamed for a time, at least somewhat, then turned back out into the wild to survive by whatever means available to them.
In a place like this, where the old ways are still kept, where a horse culture is an eminently practical and practiced thing, a horse has value far beyond its pedigree and price tag. It’s in people’s interests, even narrowly, mercenarily defined, to keep them safe and well (not that everyone acts in their own interests in that regard, as in everything).
But for the wild ones, the winters are becoming increasingly difficult. Intrusive settlement has reduced the open habitat available to them, particularly in the downslope areas where there more abundant resources exist. Climate change is accelerating, not merely by the year, but within the year, altering weather and even seasonal patterns in not-insignificant ways, forcing them to adjust their internal clocks and circadian rhythms and ordinary ways of being on the proverbial turn of a dime — a bit of non-silver silver worth even less to them that it is to us, their two-legged counterparts. Too often now, our climate conditions are punctuation marks, drought interspersed with flooding, admittedly mild compared to what’s to come, but still drastic for the wild horses and other creatures who must learn how to navigate this new and harsh reality, unaided by all the forms of assistance that we humans take entirely for granted.
Still, thus far, at least, the remaining wild horses in this area have mostly managed to survive, a testament to their hardy mustang DNA. It may be that they will increasingly need human help to continue to exist, to be in the face of drastically altered conditions, and how that will likewise alter their own wild nature remains to be seen. For the moment, they still live, and their existence, their essential spirit, still informs Native art accordingly.
It’s one of the reasons I so love this simple little piece by our friend Randy. I saw “simple” because of its vintage style, one that respects the subject’s spirit without imposing too much of a human conceptualization upon its lines and form. The word is deceptive, though: It’s difficult to coax an independent being’s complex character from s chunk of stone at the best of times; it’s still more so when the piece requires a very literal physical balance. From its description in the Other Artists: Sculpture gallery here on the site:
This wild mustang by Randy Roughface (Ponca) evinces power, strength, and character. Coaxed from velvety Pilar slate in a rich and rare chocolate-brown shade, he appears to smile as, mane and tail flying behind him in the wind, he gathers himself to rear up on his hind legs. When placed on an entirely flat surface, he’s perfectly balanced, his forefeet a fraction of an inch in the air. Horse is 5-7/8″ long by 3-9/16″ high by 1/2″ deep at the widest part of the base (dimensions approximate). Another view shown at top.
Pilar slate
$155 + shipping, handling, and insurance
SOLD
I love this little horse for everything that he embodies, everything that he signifies. He is our history, our cultures — to a degree, our identity — brought into being from the indigenous earth of this place, in a color as warm and as rare as our peoples themselves. He is the perfect exemplar of the difficult balance we must maintain, precariously yet harmoniously across two worlds, still firmly set upon our own path. Like us, he is gathered to leap powerfully into current air and air current, mane and tail flying in the wind that drives the day, with the assurance that his feet, like our own, will touch the ancient ground we hold sacred and dear to our continued existence.
~ Aji
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