Mustang preservationist cannot afford to fritter away our energies arguing about breed versus strain and other extraneous arguments that serve only to divide us. In the marsh, on the plains , or in the desert our horses are simply different slices cut from the same cake.
Sometime a picture can be more confusing than a thousand words. Anyone that has spent any time in our horse lot will instantly recognize this location. The picture is obviously shot from the area around the smokehouse toward the runway, about three yards behind the red gate with Melvin's field serving as the back drop.
Except that it isn't. The horse is a mustang, a beautiful stallion from the Baca herd. As hard as it is for my eyes to accept it that really is not my horse lot--though it looks just like it. That picture was taken much further from our horse lot then I have ever ventured.
Funny thing is that I did not notice the similarity until after I got in last night from moving a round pen--to the runway, about three yards behind the red gate, near the corner of Melvin's field.
For those who might be wondering, I am not joking.
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