by Madelaina, age 14

Each rear, it draws me near,
Each buck steals them from gravity’s binds.
Yet they home back to the ground
Where glorious food entices their minds.

My every blink,
A shutter click,
And photos are printed onto memories.
Lying here, no need to think
I watch in lulling reveries
As mustangs run
In homage to the sky.

* * *

Image: BLM Photo Library

More to read...

• Rejoice in Freedom
• Horses, Outsoar
• I See You Run

by Palamia, age 11

I started my life running free
With no barriers or restriction
Struggling to gain my feet
And find my first meal
Running free with my herd
Until I was captured
And made to be tame
I carried my load
Until I was freed
And ran wild again

* * *

Image Source: BLM Photo Library

More to read...

• Run Free
• Rejoice in Freedom
• Singing With the Wind and Running With the Sky

This beautiful video was created by talented wild horse photographer Pam Nickoles. It’s one of many videos that can be found on her blog post, Wild Horse Videos. The moving song My Home is by another talented horse girl, Mary Ann Kennedy, available at MaryAnnKennedy.com.

More to read...

• Rockin’ the Barn

by Violet Inkpen, age 13

I kick up my feet and shake my mane
Oh to be free on the wide and wild plain
I run in the sun and chase the wind for miles
My freedom and charm brings to humans smiles

Oh how I love freedom’s call
As I gallop in my herd of mustangs big and small
All are called to run and be free
This is what mustangs were meant to be

To watch the foals dance around
To watch hooves pounding the ground
To see a sea of bodies move as one
To be warmed and guarded by the sun

The call of the wild swells our hearts
It sends us running, gives us a start
Oh the moon as it protects our dreams
Freedom is what mustang means

I rejoice in freedom, I hear its song
I kick up my hooves and run along
I shake my mane in joy that I find
To all danger in the world I am blind

The nicker of horses as they enjoy life
The laughter tells we are free of strife
Out here where a horse can truly be free
The life of a mustang is the ONLY for me!

* * *

Image Source: BLM Photo Library

More to read...

• Freedom
• Saving Freedom
• Mustang Angel

by IllinoisCowgirl, age 9

I reared
I landed on the green grass and was off in a gallop
My eyes were blazing with excitement

My independence burst right out of me
The wind played with my mane
Moving it this way and that
Like the waves of an ocean

My mustang ways shown through me
I passed hills and valleys
Lakes and streams
Fields and pastures where horses neighed at me
Who is this one who runs free without a care in the world?
They wonder

I am as untamed as fire
No rope can bound me
No human can tell me what to do
No matter where I go,
My heart will always run free

I am as fast as an eagle and as swift as a fox
My home is in the valleys
Where streams trickle and colts play

I gallop faster now
Thinking of my herd and my home
My tail streams out behind me
I gallop on
With freedom in my eyes

* * *

Image Source: BLM Photo Library

More to read...

• Rejoice in Freedom
• The Phantom
• Rounded Up Mustang

by Natasha, age 9

Too many have died
Their freedom was lost
This is a mistake
With such a huge cost
Please let them live free
And run with the wind
Hear their voices
The freedom in them
Not the buzz of the helicopter
The clang of the gates
Please do not take them
Their spirits are free
Let them live out their life as should be
They are part of our country
A national treasure
We need to protect them
Now and forever

* * *
Image: BLM Photo Library

More to read...

• Rejoice in Freedom
• Freedom
• Running Free

by Madelaina, age 14

Springtime you’ll joy in the clover,
the dandelion fields you believe a wonder
of golden droplets and prairie grasses
as the slightest, cool breeze passes.

Sun of summer glowing near,
there are creeks ever-flowing here,
delightful to the baking pelts,
and trees for comfort when all else melts.

Autumn cools the open skies
down to plains of every size.
The weather blows the perfect time
to let the valley ring your chime.

Winter in full cruelty hails,
and bark you eat when all else fails,
huddling close and blinded by snow,
cold and battling wherever you go.

Come spring again, a ripe time starts
one of newborns and blissful hearts.
And warm or cool, your presence near
I see you run, throughout the year.

* * * * * * * * * *

Image: BLM Photo Library

More to read...

• Be Wary for Winter
• Winter Blues (Or Not)
• Waiting

My name was Sissy. I was born on a beautiful island, where the grass grew up to your chest (or your nose if you were a foal), where the sea could always be heard in the distance, where the sandy beaches were pure and untainted, and where life was perfect. There were herds of horses like me, we all grew up on the same island, we all lived the same life basically, but one day would change those lives, and force us together. They say the island was called Assateague, and we were called Chincoteague Ponies. Life seemed perfect when I was a foal. I was 5 months old when my story begins…

* * * * * * * * * *

The wind blew the grass to and fro, tickling the nose of the spotted foal. She narrowed her eyes and snapped at the long blades, but spat them out again when the taste disagreed with her. “I’ll never understand how adults eat this stuff!” She backed away in disgust.

“It is good for you Sissy!” Her mother sighed impatiently. Sissy wrinkled her nose.

“Well it sure doesn’t taste good. I prefer milk. You can’t gag on milk!” she added. Her mother rolled her eyes and dropped her head to graze again. Sissy shook her short mane and trotted away from her cherry colored mother. Her mother was one of the few spotless horses in the herd. Sissy was white with blue-grey spots all over, resembling her father, Turrent.

She trotted past the golden mare with white spots, Dawn, who was licking her little foal. Sissy paused. “Hey Stockings, wanna play?” she asked the other foal.

“Sure!” Stockings, a black filly with white legs, nodded.

“Have fun!” Dawn called as the foals chased each other away from the herd.

Over hills, back again, the foals circled the valley the herd was in, carefree. The two twin colts of the herd, White Lightning and Blue Thunder, soon joined the game, nipping at the fillies’ tails.

Suddenly an ear piercing cry rang through the air. The foals slid to a stop, standing on a ridge above the valley, and turned to see a chestnut stallion with a white stripe on his shoulder and a white patch on his flanks galloping at full speed towards them. Stockings huddled close to Blue Thunder and White Lighting, while Sissy, tail wagging, stood firm between the stallion and her herd. The stallion stopped beside her. Mane blowing in the wind, he pawed the ground. White Lighting turned and ran back to his mother, followed by Stockings. Sissy snorted at the stallion, angry for the intrusion.

The stallion pushed past Sissy, intent to steal full grown mares. Turrent sped past his mares and charged at the intruder, screaming a challenge. Everyone held their breaths as the stallions reared. Sissy watched in awe as the two met just a few feet from where she stood, rearing in the air. Hooves flying, teeth searching for a target.

Suddenly the mares lifted their heads. Usually they didn’t watch the stallions’ battles, but their attention seemed fixed on the stallions. Sissy looked over her shoulder. No, not the stallions. There were other horses galloping towards them, and on top of the horses were weird stick creatures. The creatures began shouting and kicked the horses to charge the herd. Sissy screamed in fear and scrambled down the hill to her mother. Her mother gathered her up and began to run.

“Ma! What is going on?” she sobbed.

“Do you have to ask questions? Run!” her mother shouted to her. Sissy pressed close to her mother.

“Turrent! Turrent!” someone called.

Mares were gathering their foals and making a break for it. The lead mare, Pepper, was shouting at Turrent to run. He was still challenging the intruder. Turning around, Turrent gave the intruder once last warning glance before galloping after his herd. The challenger ran off, desperate to return to his own herd that he had left in the care of the lead mare.

“What is going on?” Sissy asked her mother again.

“Just run, Sissy!” her mother flattened her ears in anger. Turrent soon overtook them and got in the front of the herd, steering them towards the middle of the island. Suddenly out of the forest new horses with stick creatures appeared, shouting and swinging weird snake like things. Sissy slid to a halt, half the herd went left and the other half right. More creatures appeared, seeming to herd them towards the beach.

“What are you?” Sissy screamed to the horses.

“We are horses like you!” they screamed back.

“Why are you doing this?” Sissy scrambled forward, away from the weird creatures riding the horses.

“Our humans asked us to!” they replied.

“Humans?” Sissy had no time to think. Suddenly her hooves touched water. Rearing, she resisted while the rest of the herd plunged into the sea. Sissy’s mother pushed her.

“Move it, Sissy!” she ordered.

“I can’t swim!” The horses behind her gave her no choice. She sprang into the blue water and struggled against the waves.

The horses with riders got onto some large rock thing and it began to move alongside the horses. Turrent tried to keep his herd together, but all the other herds of the island seemed to be gathered into the water together. Sissy fought with the current, her legs pumping to keep up.

As they swam towards another island, thousands of those stick creatures were cheering and shouting and making noises that Sissy did NOT like! “Ma?!” she screamed, swimming around to find her mother.

Image Source: Wikipedia

“Sissy!” Sissy heard her name called. She turned her head and saw Stockings, her head hardly above the water, slowly sinking. “Sissy, I can’t move my legs! They are caught in something!” she screamed.

Sissy fought the crowd of bodies over to her friend. Using her own legs she kicked at whatever had Stockings caught. Something untangled from Stockings’ legs but wrapped around Sissy’s front legs. Sissy kicked with her back legs, swimming on. Stockings stuck close to Sissy, helping her swim until their hooves touched sand. They pulled themselves up on land and were forced to move again, bars keeping them on a path. They ended up in pens, then they were separated by age.

Sissy paced back and forth. Stockings, White Lighting, Blue Thunder, and about eight other foals were all in one pen. The stick creatures kept staring at them, pointing. Sissy was wrestled by one of the male stick creatures, a number placed around her neck. Sissy flattened her ears and tried to bite but the man dodged and went away.

The noises of the crowd confused Sissy. The other foals kept fussing for their mothers, the oldest ones running in panic. Sissy stood still, staring eye to eye with one of the creatures with defiance in her movement. The way she held her head, shoulders squared, she challenged the stick creature, ears flat. The creature made a weird sound, gesturing to Sissy, then the other creature that was with him nodded.

The next few days Sissy spent in the small pen, being forced to eat that grass that her mother ate. She had tried it before, but she had never been fully weaned off of her mother’s milk. It was hard to adjust, but she REFUSED to let herself cry like the other foals. She had to be strong. Stockings stuck close to Sissy, as if the other filly could protect her somehow.

Finally something seemed to change. All the crowd began to thin and things were torn down. Sissy watched. She saw her mother!

“Ma!” she shouted. Her mother turned her head but something strange was happening. People were taking down the pen that held her, and she was being forced back into the ocean with all the other adults.

“Sissy!” her mother shouted.

“MOM!” Sissy screamed, throwing herself at the fence. She reared and fought at her captor, trying to break it down.

The stick creatures, or humans as she learned they were called, shouted at each other and soon two of the men had their arms around her neck, dragging her away from her attack. She fought with them, but she was forced into a box, a dark box with hardly any light or air, with sticks on the ground. The box swung every time she moved, and her hooves touched something that rang painfully in her ear. Every time she screamed in fear her scream echoed back to her. The door behind her was shut and then she began moving, the box swinging back and forth. Sissy’s heart pounded, she began to sweat. She could hear her heart beating in her ears, smell her own fear. This was NOT COOL!

“Ma!” Sissy reared and went wild, bucking and kicking and screaming and crying. Finally she leaned against the wall for support, her energy spent. Her head slumping, she cried and cried. This was not fair! This was not fair! She gave one last kick, only using a little energy. She was defeated! “Why me?” she begged the metal walls that held her captive. She cried herself to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sunlight. Sissy opened her eyes to cruel sunlight. She was in a small pasture, a pleasant place, but she was alone. It was strange! The smells, human, metal, there was a huge thing. What was it? “That is a house. Humans live there,” a squeaky voice said with boredom. Sissy looked to her left. A black and white creature sat on the fence, tail swinging lazily.

“What are you?” Sissy demanded. The creature yawned.

“I’m a cat. You are a horse. This is a fence. I am free, you are not. I am tired, you just awoke. I don’t want to talk to you, you want to talk to me. See how different we are? Now leave me alone,” the cat hissed.

“You aren’t nice.” Sissy got to her hooves and walked over to the creature, snuffing.

“Watch it Cupcake, I am NOT a de-clawed kitty.” The cat drew back his lips in a snarl.

“Whatever that means.” Sissy shrugged. The cat licked his lips.

“Ah, a small town gal. You don’t know a thing do you?” he asked, stretching out a paw to admire his claws.

“I know about the island. But weird things have been happening and I dunno what on earth is going on. I was swimming in an ocean, then I was in a place fenced off, and then other foals started vanishing, then ma left me, now I am here. I just dunno anymore.” Sissy bit her lip to keep from crying again. The cat rolled his eyes. Standing up, he padded a few steps then sat down again. “And my name isn’t cupcake,” Sissy added.

“You must be one of those Chincoteague Ponies,” the cat said in his squeaky voice.

“A what?” Sissy growled, flattening her ears.

“Don’t be so insulted Cupcake, it isn’t a bad thing. It means you come from an island the humans visit once a year to round up the horses there, take the young ones, release the old ones, and go on with their lives. Nothing much changes here. Every few years we get a new pony from there. The human who owns this place breeds Chincoteagues for shows or something. Sometimes he’ll bring in a new wild one, make sure the bloodline is still pure. I guess you are the lucky winner. Congrats.” The cat shrugged, sighed, and curled up.

“But I didn’t ask for this!” Sissy stomped a hoof. The cat sighed again.

“Listen Cupcake, I am tired. I just hunted mice in the barn. You think that is easy? I keep the barn clean so horses like you don’t get poisoned by rats. You can thank me by letting me nap,” the cat hissed. Sissy narrowed her eyes and walked away from the fence.

“I am NOT Cupcake!” she muttered to herself.

The door on the ‘house’ swung open and a human walked out whistling. “Hey there girly. Glad to see you wide awake. Here, I’ll get you some oats. That’s a good girl. Easy!”

The human held a bucket out to Sissy. Sniffing at it, Sissy admitted it smelled good. But the bucket was metal, and metal was bad. Metal imprisoned Sissy. She reared up and kicked the bucket, knocking the oats to the ground. Greedily, she chomped the oats up.

“Whoa! Greedy little gus ain’t ya? Well you’ll do us proud you will. Ya need a name though. A good strong name. Something with class. I can tell you are a fighter. A real winner once you are trained. You are Royal ya know? That’s it.” The man snapped his fingers. “Regal & Royal! That shall be your name. Well here’s some fresh water.” He had another bucket that he used to pour water into a wooden trough hanging off of the fence.

Sissy pricked her ears. She sniffed the water and cautiously drank. While she drank the man reached out and gently stroked her shoulder. Sissy flinched away from him. The man shrugged and left.

“He sure is a talker. Thinks you are smart enough to understand.” The cat yawned.

“YOU understand that?” Sissy gasped.

“Sure. I was born in a barn. I’ll die in a barn. He says your name is Regal & Royal.” The cat stretched.

“My name is Sissy!” Sissy hunched her shoulders, water dripping from her chin.

“Whatever.” The cat shrugged.

“What is your name?” Sissy asked.

“Not that you care, but it is Bean. I never cared for the name myself, but the humans chose it so….” Bean rolled his shoulders back then rested his head on his paws, still lying on the fence. Sissy sighed.

“You sure act mean and stuffy for a blabber mouth,” she said. Bean closed his eyes and purred, which Sissy realized was laughing.

“I don’t blabber nothing I don’t want to.” was the last thing he said before he began to snore.

Sissy spent the rest of the day exploring her new home, searching for a way out. Bean spent the rest of the day snoring. When the sun began to set Bean yawned. “Sleeping just KILLS me! I better go to bed.” He stretched, stood, and leaped down from the fence, padding towards the barn. Sissy watched him go. “Night Regal. Or do your prefer Royal?” He looked over his shoulder.

“SISSY!” Sissy hissed. Bean chuckled and walked away. “Stupid cat!” Sissy spat.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next day she was handled more by the human. He kept talking to her, stroking her, trying to soothe her. When Sissy finally let him stroke her without a fuss he took something out of his pocket and began rubbing her body with it. “What is that?” Sissy began to panic.

“Chill Cupcake, it is a halter. Humans use it to lead horses,” Bean yawned.

“Why would any horse go with a human?” Sissy growled in anger.

“I dunno. Horses seem to love humans,” Bean yawned.

“I’ll NEVER love a human!” Sissy promised.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Weeks passed. Sissy began to wear a halter all the time, and was even lead around by the human. She was put in a pasture with other foals her age, slept in a stall at night, and spent tons of time with the man. He would sit with her for hours, just sitting while she walked around him, and sometimes she reached out to nuzzle him, but he never tried to reach out to her. Sissy liked that about him. She liked that he didn’t demand her attention or act like he owned her, the way Bean said he did. She grew closer to the human, and began to respect him. But she still blamed him for taking her away from her home and therefore she told herself over and over she could never love him.

He had a wife too. A pleasant woman who often slipped Sissy treats when the man was working with other horses. Sissy watched him lunge older horses, and she wondered why the horse obeyed the human so willingly. Sure she followed him when he led her, but that was because he usually lead her someplace she wanted to go, or someplace new and exciting. But to trot around in circles, changing pace and direction any time the human asked, that was like telling the human you would be their slave. No sir, no one would make Sissy a slave!

* * * * * * * * * *

It was exactly two months after Sissy’s capture that she was grazing when Bean came running to her, jumped up on the fence, and sat down to stare at her. “You’ll never guess what,” he said, casually licking his paw.

“Oh?” Sissy asked, pretending to be mildly interested the way Bean always seemed never to care about anything.

“Yessss,” Bean purred. Sissy sighed.

“Fine, tell me!” she begged.

Bean licked his claws then rubbed his ears with them. “If you must know. I heard the humans talking. They are taking you on a trail ride. Well they won’t ride you, they’ll be leading you behind one of their best trail horses. You’ll go new places, see new things, have a ball I suppose. Meanwhile I’ll be hunting and keeping the mice out of your….baYAWN!” Bean curled up and began snoring. Sissy tilted her head.

“A trail ride? What is that?”

Her question was soon answered. Sissy was haltered and led behind an adult Chincoteague horse. Sissy flattened her ears. The other horse was unfamiliar. “Where are we going?” she asked the bigger horse.

The stallion looked over his shoulder at her and rolled his eyes.

“Well?” Sissy demanded.

“We are going North. Alright? Now leave me alone!”

Sissy narrowed her eyes. “That isn’t very nice,” she told herself. Her attention was suddenly drawn to a bird, then a squirrel, then a leaf. By the time the trail ride was over she was in awe of the world.

“Okay girl, get some rest.” The man opened the stall door and put Sissy inside. Sissy curled up in the straw and fell asleep, dreaming of the wonderful trail ride.

* * * * * * * * * *

“REGAL! REGAL!” Sissy opened her eyes to Bean’s fearful body standing on her stall door. She got to her feet. Something was wrong. The air was black and hot.

“What is going on?” Sissy choked.

“FIRE! Here.” Bean reached down and began clawing at the lock until the stall door swung open. Ten other stalls trapped other horses.

“We have to help them!” Sissy galloped up to the next stall and reared, kicked at the lock until it broke open. The horse rushed past her, knocking her down. Sissy scrambled up again. “WATCH IT!” she shouted.

She went to the next door and reared again. Bean had already unlocked three himself. Every horse was in full panic and some wouldn’t leave their stalls until Bean jumped on them, claws digging into their back sides.

Finally, everyone was out. Sissy enjoyed her taste of freedom and took over, leading the whole herd into the ocean, across the channel, and back to the island she came from.

Standing on the beach, she took a deep breath. She was home! This was where she really belonged. The other horses either ran deeper into the island or went back into the ocean, determined to be with their human again. Sissy just stood, pleased with herself. She lived the rest of her life alone. Every year she had another foal but she preferred not to live in a herd in case she got caught again. Once a year she’d swim across the channel again and visit Bean, and even her old owner. He’d stroke her and feed her but he let her return to her freedom. He felt she belonged in the beauty of the island.

* * * * * * * * * *

So that is my story. The story of how I befriended a human, and how that human taught me love and trust, and how an unlikely friend, a cat, saved my life, and how I was able to go home where I belonged. Some ponies belonged with humans, some belonged on the island they were born on. I belong to both worlds and neither, and that is the way I like it. A daughter of the sea.

More to read...

• The Wild Mustang – Chapter 1
• The Wild Mustang – Chapter 6
• The Wild Mustang – Chapter 2

by Zanzibar The Great, age 15

He’s crying to the night sky now
Pleading with the great creator to set him free
Willing to make a deal with whomever there was
But no one listens
No one pays heed to him
He’s just a Mustang

Agony ripples through every fiber of him
He’s willing to die right now
Rather than forfeit his freedom
In exchange for a stable and saddle
No one cares about his wants
He’s just a Mustang

Now he’s burning with rage
Pacing his pen like a worrisome mare
Snapping out at any vile human
He doesn’t care about morality
He doesn’t care about his herd
He wants freedom
It’s one for all right now

It takes one gallant effort
And a whole lot of courage
Two-thirds bravery
And one-third foolishness
But it’s a chance he’s willing to take
A chance for freedom

Charging head-long
He folds his front legs
Pushes off with his haunches
And soars into the air
Wind buffets his body
Congratulating his foolish prowess

What is more encouraging
Is the earth that churns beneath him
As he lands on the other side of the fence

For a moment
He doesn’t realize it
He doesn’t recognize it
The feeling of freedom

Without even glancing back
He just takes off like a rocket
Soaring across the desert plain
Leaving the anguish of the round-up pen
And drinking in the wind of liberty

He’s running free
Running like the wind
Soaring like a bird
Just like he was born to be

* * *

Image: BLM Photo Library

More to read...

• Running Free
• Soy Libre: I Am Free
• Rejoice in Freedom

You cared about us when times were bad
You fought for us and made us glad
You protected us with words and deed
Turning away the hungry greed

When we were alone you were there
When we were sad you were fair
When we needed someone to care
We could count on you to be there

You fought for us against those who were mean
A silent guardian you were unseen
You cared about us when we were taken
To truth you we aren’t mistaken

When freedom fails and we are caged
You fight for us with fury and rage
Defend our rights fierce and proud
In our name you yelled loud

Now rally your friends and take up the call!
Save us, mustangs, one and all!
Fight for freedom and rights we need!
Protect us again with word and deed!

Mustang Angel you care for us
We will follow you with love and trust
When we are alone and need a friend
You’ll be there with us until the end

* * * * * * * * * * *

Author’s Note: Dedicated to Terri Farley, a true Mustang Angel!

More to read...

• My Guardian Angel
• I Am a Mustang!
• Rounded Up Mustang