By H. Alan Day
He already owned and controlled ranches and wanted a 3rd approximately up to he wanted an enduring migraine: that’s what Alan Day acknowledged each time his pal pestered him approximately an outdated ranch in South Dakota. yet in brief order, he proudly owned 35,000 pristine grassy acres. the chance then dropped into his lap to set up a sanctuary for unadoptable wild horses formerly warehoused by means of the Bureau of Land administration. After Day effectively lobbied Congress, these acres turned Mustang Meadows Ranch, the 1st government-sponsored wild horse sanctuary validated within the United States.
The Horse Lover is Day’s own historical past of the sanctuary’s monstrous firm, with its surprises and pleasures and its ample hazards, frustrations, and heartbreak. Day’s deep reference to the animals in his care is apparent from the outset, as is his maverick philosophy of horse-whispering, with which he knowledgeable fifteen hundred wild horses. The Horse Lover weaves jointly Day’s memories of his cowboying adventures astride a few of his most sensible horses, all of which taught him vital classes approximately loyalty, perseverance, and desire. This heartfelt memoir unearths the Herculean activity of balancing the necessities of the govt with the desires of untamed horses.
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Additional resources for The Horse Lover: A Cowboy's Quest to Save the Wild Mustangs
Sooner or later, I’d find them. I panned the ridge. Left to right, right to left across clumps of scrub cedar and outcroppings of rock. I was about to turn back when the slightest of movements caught my attention. There, at the top of the ridge, was what I had driven miles to see. I held my breath to keep the binoculars steady against the rush of adrenaline. A herd of horses began to gather, first two, then three, four, eight, ten, possibly fifteen. The slant of the sun shadowed their colors. One of the horses stood apart from the others, presumably the lead stallion.
I leaned forward and spun the basket of popcorn. Dayton looked at me, curious. ” Stress lines evaporated from his face, and his body came to attention. ” I asked. I could almost see his mind holding up this piece of the puzzle, the last of the border pieces, recognizing it, and pushing it into place. ” After a moment of sitting stock still, he let loose a throw-your-head-back yelp that would summon any pack of coyotes. Cowboy hats swiveled. Seeing two faces plastered with three parts excitement and a shot of disbelief, they turned back to their conversations.
Three potholes later, we clacked over a cattle guard. ” He looked at me for a reaction. I couldn’t reply, much less move. I had been slammed with an acute case of déjà vu. Somehow I knew this godforsaken road, knew it swerved right before we swerved right, knew what lay around each bend before we made the turn. This was more than a fleeting feeling. It intensified with every bump. I looked out over rolling, grass-covered hills that felt like old friends ready to embrace me, pour me a drink, and sit me down to reminisce about the good old days and the adventures we shared.