I have been on a data collection mission. Checking out new issues and tracking down the old. But I had to revisit… I had to go sit at the old trap sites from this past winter.
Sitting there I felt like a Vietnam veteran that had returned home… to be criticized… and left with the private memories from hell to deal with alone. I could still hear the chopper blades and the horses calling to each other.
The trampled and broken sage marked each trap clearly. The evidence of the unnatural occurance. The evidence of the violent removal in such a beautiful serene place… and not a horse to be seen at any of the sites. The horse sign old… weathered.
As Elvis (my dog) and I traveled the highway from place to place I saw two horses. They were pacing the fenceline… one on either side of the highway separated by barbed wire run along the highway of our “public land.” I stopped to photograph them. They looked at me… and nature took it’s course… they were together last night.
I got back into my truck and began to shake. I couldn’t stop. I was not crying… I was not “emotional.” But the tremors that took my body had me find a hotel room and not spend another night on the range.
It is morning and I am going back “on the road.”
So much to do. So much information to get into hands that are more powerful than mine. More legal documents to prep… more prayers to say.