Two years ago, in Wyoming, one of my childhood dreams came true. Somewhat lost on back roads, searching for Butch Cassidy’s Outlaw Cave in the middle of nowhere Wyoming, I happened to look off to the side of the red dirt road and saw something that made my heart stop: a tiny red foal, all alone, laying down among the red rocks, no mare in sight.
I immediately pulled over, left the dogs in the car and climbed up the bank above the road to get a better look. I grew up with horses, but I’d never seen one so new; the foal was no more than a few hours old. As I approached, slowly, talking sweetly, and holding my hands palms up and open in front of me, the baby whinnied and wobbled to her feet.
Mares will sometimes leave…
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