I have nothing tonight except a link to a facebook page. On that page are the White Mountain horses I have documented thus far. I have more to put in yet, but it is a rather long process. You should be able to look through this whether you have a facebook account or not. Let me know if I’m wrong and I’ll think of something else.
Please just take a few moments to browse through. See what a White Mountain horse looks like. The pictures aren’t high quality. The horses aren’t doing anything flashy or exciting. But does that really matter?
Each and every one of these horses are beautiful. Their life isn’t elegant and oftentimes they aren’t either, but these horses are where they belong, doing what they were meant to do.
They’re wild horses. That’s all God ever intended them to be. They’re frustrating, confusing, fantastic animals who want what any living thing wants: to live and survive and spend what little time they have on this planet in the way they see fit. In freedom.
Freedom is an indifferent bitch. Sure, freedom will let you bask in the sunshine now and again. But she also lets the snow drifts close overhead; lets you suffocate and freeze and bleed out until there’s nothing left. It’s those times that decide if freedom is worth anything. Is it better to be in pain, to kick and punch and bite to hold on to that last bit of air to cling to? Or should you just give in? Lay down by the roadside and hope it ends more quickly?
I don’t know which way is best. But these horses taught me; they showed me a trail through the desert wasteland that I will always choose, damn the consequences.
So yeah. Take a look at them. There are people who will look at these horses and see vermin, pests that need to be eradicated and squashed under their boots. Some will see a meal. Some will see a meal ticket. They will mock you for looking at these horses and seeing them for the symbols of freedom that they are, for seeing a piece of home and family and everything that actually makes this messed up place worthwhile. You can always trust there will be folks out there who think that idealism has no place here, in this world ruled by the powerful, the greedy, and the whiney little bitches pretending to be big bad cowboys.
I have faith that most people will see wild horses for what they really are: living creatures with thoughts and feelings and emotions and a God damned place in this world.
It’s always darkest before the dawn, my friends.
“Our greatest happiness does not depend on the condition of life in which chance has placed us, but is always the result of a good conscience, good health, occupation and freedom in all just pursuits.” Thomas Jefferson