Horses in Love, continued
          ...
          Karin is barely five ft high. I worried
          about her safety as she strode into the corral. She had called
          me just a few days before. "He's challenging me. I don't
          think I can leave him a stallion much longer." Yet despite
          her concerns, today she draped her arm over Tomorrow's neck and
          led him toward the gate. He didn't fight her. Evidently he approved
          of getting out of his pen .
          
            
              
                
                  
"Looks like he's going
                  to take awhile to figure things out."
                
              
            
          
          Why were we trying to breed him so young?
          We feared he and his dam might be the last alive of a herd of
          Spanish mustangs that looked very much like the Sorraia ponies
          of Spain. They had come to New Mexico with its first Spanish
          settlers in Don Juan de Onate's 1598 expedition. That first year
          Navajo raiders freed over a thousand of Onate's horses and mules.
          For almost four centuries these horses
          lived in Navajo country, mostly running free. Navajos don't often
          build fences. They simply whistle up their horses.
          For centuries these horses shared the hardships
          of their human companions. They grew up fast in a land where
          blizzards, drought and killer buyers preyed on them. If they
          didn't reproduce by age two, they might fail to pass on their
          genes.
          In recent years a drought, continuing poverty
          and soaring prices for horse meat had decimated the herds.
          That was why I had wanted to preserve Tomorrow's
          genes. Trying to breed him that young was my only option.
          
          Tomorrow at one year of age, beside
          his round pen. Photo courtesy Karin Begg.
          A few feet away, water gurgled in a dirt
          ditch acequia. A neighbor was irrigating her apple orchard, heavy
          with blossoms. Inside the orchard fence, on a bank above the
          spreading waters, two small mares stood side by side. One was
          gray, the other a cream-spotted zebra dun. They swished their
          tails, observing the unfolding love story.
          As Karin opened the gate, Tomorrow rushed
          from her enbrace to sidle up to Zebra. They nuzzled, flank to
          flank, rumbling sweet horse nothings. After a minute or two,
          Tomorrow seized Zebra's neck in his jaws, reared and straddled
          her withers (shoulders) with his front legs. He began poking
          two feet of erection against Zebra's ribs. She spread her hind
          legs, bracing under his buffeting.
          Karin rubbed her chin. "Looks like
          he's going to take awhile to figure things out."
          More --->>