One of our favorite places to observe the wild horses is Boicourt Ridge. On a hot summer day it is not unusual to find several bands fighting flies by catching the breezes on the high grassy ridge or rolling in the mud flats below. Stallions vie for mares and bachelors practice their skills on the rolling grassy butte. Sometimes bands are hidden in grassy draws or in the small, quiet valley nestled between the buttes north of the ridge, but there are almost always horses to be found there. Last spring I found our how the area got it's name.
When a friend sent my blog to her mom, she sent it on to her cousin, Ramona. Ramona sent me a quick email to tell me that her mother was Roxie Biocourt, who had grown up in what is now the Boicourt area of the Park.
In 1909 Albert (Bert) and Nora Boicourt brought their little family of three girls to North Dakota from Westport Indiana. A stone mason, Bert felt there was a future for himself and his family in ND. Upon arriving in the Badlands, they and two other families pitched tents on the Talkington Ranch until they could move into more permanent housing. By fall of the following year they were able to build on 160 acres including a spring, rolling prairie, tree lined draws and the flats below. Finding the water to be bad at the home site, Bert built a system to pipe fresh water down to a cistern from what is now known as Boicourt Spring. The Boicourts and several other families thrived in the little community they called Pleasant Flat.
Though the weather was often harsh and the crops not always good, the family was comfortable and happy in their little paper lined clapboard house. Bert tilled the land and kept the animals fed while Nora took care of her family and home. In the evenings she would spend hours braiding rugs and piecing quilts while Bert read aloud to the children. One of their favorite activities was singing while Nora played the organ and Bert accompanied her on the harmonica or violin. All the girls became accomplished musicians, learning the instruments from their parents. Also riding in the hills or off to Medora on an errand was an activity the girls enjoyed.
During their stay in the area, Bert found many opportunities to use his stone masonry skills. With the birth of Theodore Roosevelt National Park there was a need for various stone structures. Bert headed a crew who built nearly 40 stone bridges for the Park road, entrance sign structures, and the Contact House, which is now known as the Old Entrance. His initials can be found etched in the fireplace of that historic structure. In Medora they built DeMores Park to commemorate the Marquis' part in the History of the Badlands. Ramona sent a photo of her overlooking the Pleasant Flat.
In keeping with my theme of historic names for the new foals this year, we have a Roxie and a Boicourt. These foals will be included in a coming post on all the 2009 foals.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
TOM TESCHER'S STORY
In September it will be one year since we lost our dear friend, Tom Tescher. Tom had tracked the horses for 50 years but was gracious enough to invite us greenhorns into his vehicle, with Lorraine and himself, to drive the loop road looking for the wild horses. It was an honor to spend time with the two of them looking for horses or sitting around their kitchen table talking about their family, his days as a champion rodeo cowboy, and, of coarse, all the wild horses he had known. When Tom passed away, I asked his daughter, Carol, to write about her Dad for this blog. The following is his story in her words.
On the day my Dad died, my oldest brother, Bill, looked into the cloudless North Dakota sky and saw a white horse. Then, Bill heard Dad whistle.
When Bill told that story to me, it took my breath away. I knew Dad was in Heaven, because Heaven to Dad was being with the wild horses and to get the attention of those beautiful bands of wild horse flesh.......... Dad would whistle!
Dad loved the wild horses; they were his passion. From the early 40's until his death, he kept meticulous records on the wild ones in Theodore Roosevelt National Park. When Dad was in the nursing home, he still wanted to go see the wild horses. Up until two weeks before he left us, I would take him on a drive every chance I got to look at the feral horses.
To get the thousands of pictures I took for him, I walked miles, sank in the mud to my knees in Paddock Creek, side-stepped rattlesnakes, climbed buttes, went through washouts, slipped on sodden gumbo, tripped in Prairie Dog holes, and faced the big roan stud that was snorting and pawing because I was bothering his harem. But, it was worth every moment to see Dad smile at the images of the horses. When he couldn't walk any more, I took pictures and showed them to him on the digital camera. When he couldn't see well anymore, I bought a laptop to show him a bigger picture. When he couldn't write any more, he would dictate to me, and when he couldn't talk any more, I would describe to him what I saw. It tickled him to hear about High Star fighting with and running off another stud that was trying to steal his band of mares; he would "humph" and smile. One time he got so excited about seeing the "young guns" (young studs) that he opened the door of the van because he thought he could still walk and wanted to get a closer look. At the end of the day, a highlight for him was when we tallied up how many horses we had seen that day. Some days it would be two and some days it would be over 50 head.
Nothing compared to the feeling of watching Dad's eyes twinkle when the old pinto stud walked down the road right beside Dad's open van window; Dad could almost touch him. I think the old pinto knew Dad's time watching him was almost over.
In gathering the herds for culling, Dad went from setting rope traps in box canyons to riding in a helicopter. The rush he got from roping a wild horse at a roundup was beyond his description. Dad spent many hours in the Park and he knew where each band claimed their territory. He would say, "Gary and his bunch stays south of the spring, close to the interstate." or "Keep an eye out for the big roan stud and his band; they like to stay around lower Talkington Creek." and "I'll bet we see the J bunch across the wash near Setting Chicken Butte." Dad's knowledge was immense and sot after. His mind was sharp up until the end. Until he couldn't talk any more, he could tell you which horses came from which studs and mares and the years they were all born. It amazed everyone who talked to him. He had his favorites and remembered when they were sold or how they died. His horse record books could be interpreted by anyone. He identified each band with a letter, starting with the A Bunch.
Because of his knowledge, he earned a lifetime pass with the Park. He helped college students with their thesis with his insight on the wild horses. He helped authors with their research on the wild ones, for their books. The governor of North Dakota called him after the wild horses were chosen as the state horse. The governor wondered why he hadn't talked to Dad sooner, as Dad knew the horses weren't ancestors to Sitting Bull's horses, as some had claimed. Dad knew the horses were turned out by ranchers and farmers during the Depression, when they couldn't afford to feed them. He knew several were turned loose in the Park by individuals.
Dad's excitement over the horses was contagious. I learned to love them almost as much as he did, but it wasn't always a thrill for me to go see the horses. For a while, every Mother's Day, Dad would take Mom out for dinner and then take her for a ride...................to see the horses. For some reason, my husband, Val, and I always seemed to be with them. One Mother's Day, Mom and I were sitting in the back seat of the car "discussing" what we thought of what we were doing on Mother's Day. Mom thought we should be doing something mothers like to do. I told Dad what Mom said........................he didn't get it! He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to do anything else.
So, don't be surprised when you visit TRNP and see the wild horses pick up their ears listening to a spirited whistle echoing in the North Dakota Badlands. It is just my Dad, doing what he loves.
The day Tom Tescher was laid to rest, we were in the Park, assigned to help Whit try a low stress roundup of the horses. We painfully discussed what we should do. Should we go to Tom's funeral or keep our commitment to Whit and help him find horses to bring in? It was a dilemma until I thought, "what would Tom want us to do; he would tell us to go out there and bring in those horses!" I think I could hear Tom whistling to the horses that day!
WHISTLE IN THE WIND
by Carol Tescher Obrigewitch
When Bill told that story to me, it took my breath away. I knew Dad was in Heaven, because Heaven to Dad was being with the wild horses and to get the attention of those beautiful bands of wild horse flesh.......... Dad would whistle!
Dad loved the wild horses; they were his passion. From the early 40's until his death, he kept meticulous records on the wild ones in Theodore Roosevelt National Park. When Dad was in the nursing home, he still wanted to go see the wild horses. Up until two weeks before he left us, I would take him on a drive every chance I got to look at the feral horses.
To get the thousands of pictures I took for him, I walked miles, sank in the mud to my knees in Paddock Creek, side-stepped rattlesnakes, climbed buttes, went through washouts, slipped on sodden gumbo, tripped in Prairie Dog holes, and faced the big roan stud that was snorting and pawing because I was bothering his harem. But, it was worth every moment to see Dad smile at the images of the horses. When he couldn't walk any more, I took pictures and showed them to him on the digital camera. When he couldn't see well anymore, I bought a laptop to show him a bigger picture. When he couldn't write any more, he would dictate to me, and when he couldn't talk any more, I would describe to him what I saw. It tickled him to hear about High Star fighting with and running off another stud that was trying to steal his band of mares; he would "humph" and smile. One time he got so excited about seeing the "young guns" (young studs) that he opened the door of the van because he thought he could still walk and wanted to get a closer look. At the end of the day, a highlight for him was when we tallied up how many horses we had seen that day. Some days it would be two and some days it would be over 50 head.
Nothing compared to the feeling of watching Dad's eyes twinkle when the old pinto stud walked down the road right beside Dad's open van window; Dad could almost touch him. I think the old pinto knew Dad's time watching him was almost over.
In gathering the herds for culling, Dad went from setting rope traps in box canyons to riding in a helicopter. The rush he got from roping a wild horse at a roundup was beyond his description. Dad spent many hours in the Park and he knew where each band claimed their territory. He would say, "Gary and his bunch stays south of the spring, close to the interstate." or "Keep an eye out for the big roan stud and his band; they like to stay around lower Talkington Creek." and "I'll bet we see the J bunch across the wash near Setting Chicken Butte." Dad's knowledge was immense and sot after. His mind was sharp up until the end. Until he couldn't talk any more, he could tell you which horses came from which studs and mares and the years they were all born. It amazed everyone who talked to him. He had his favorites and remembered when they were sold or how they died. His horse record books could be interpreted by anyone. He identified each band with a letter, starting with the A Bunch.
Because of his knowledge, he earned a lifetime pass with the Park. He helped college students with their thesis with his insight on the wild horses. He helped authors with their research on the wild ones, for their books. The governor of North Dakota called him after the wild horses were chosen as the state horse. The governor wondered why he hadn't talked to Dad sooner, as Dad knew the horses weren't ancestors to Sitting Bull's horses, as some had claimed. Dad knew the horses were turned out by ranchers and farmers during the Depression, when they couldn't afford to feed them. He knew several were turned loose in the Park by individuals.
Dad's excitement over the horses was contagious. I learned to love them almost as much as he did, but it wasn't always a thrill for me to go see the horses. For a while, every Mother's Day, Dad would take Mom out for dinner and then take her for a ride...................to see the horses. For some reason, my husband, Val, and I always seemed to be with them. One Mother's Day, Mom and I were sitting in the back seat of the car "discussing" what we thought of what we were doing on Mother's Day. Mom thought we should be doing something mothers like to do. I told Dad what Mom said........................he didn't get it! He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to do anything else.
So, don't be surprised when you visit TRNP and see the wild horses pick up their ears listening to a spirited whistle echoing in the North Dakota Badlands. It is just my Dad, doing what he loves.
The day Tom Tescher was laid to rest, we were in the Park, assigned to help Whit try a low stress roundup of the horses. We painfully discussed what we should do. Should we go to Tom's funeral or keep our commitment to Whit and help him find horses to bring in? It was a dilemma until I thought, "what would Tom want us to do; he would tell us to go out there and bring in those horses!" I think I could hear Tom whistling to the horses that day!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
JUNE FOALS
June seems to be a good month for foaling, though, with the number of young, maiden mares, we have lost some. As the earlier foals mature, some of them are revealing their true color. Many of the foals born sorrel are now turning red roan, many born bay are now turning bay roan, and some of those that appeared to be black are becoming blue roans. The color patterns and how they develope would be a study in itself, but that isn't our focus. We can just speculate on which ones will change and what color they will turn out to be.
Auney, our first foal, has become a pretty red roan, as has one of our favorites, Roosevelt. At first we felt sorry for Roosevelt because he had no one his age to play with, but that hasn't held him back. Just like his namesake, he has learned to play with the big boys. He and his half brother, Charlie have become fast friends and spend a lot of time together playing like big stallions or resting in the sandy banks on Boicourt.
Buck, who was born a bay, is now showing the white that will, at some time in the future, blend with his dark bay coat to create at rich bay roan. His little brother, Rasmusson, was born red roan. His color was easy to predict, his gender was not. For the first several days, we called him a filly because the new foals have their hind quarters tucked under so much that it is hard to determine what they are. Once they are a few weeks old, it is no longer a problem.
The six foals in the Red Face and Singlefoot bands have a new baby sister. The overo mare, Lightning, had a cute overo filly who looks a lot like mama. We are hoping that she stays black like her mama and doesn't gray like her sire, Singlefoot.
Beauty, in Embers' band, looks as if she will be a blue roan to begin with, but most of her siblings have eventually turned gray like Bella. With graying, we will only know over time, since any color can gray. Little Rue, Neuens, Mosser, Little Mo, Barnhart, Roxie, Connolly, and Schaffer were all born dark. Time will tell whether they will roan, turn black or gray. Only Connolly, or as Hedrick calls her, Cocoa Puff, shows the telltale signs of roaning, a lighter underbelly and white at the top of her tail.
Rue has been a puzzling little filly. She seems to have been born missing a large patch of hide over her left shoulder. It was an ugly wound when we first saw her, but it didn't seem to bother her at all. Over the weeks it has filled in and healed. She seems to be doing very well, so there is no reason to believe that it will cause any problems in the future. Marquis, from High Star's band, has to be my favoite, but he too is difficult to predict for color. since his sire is balck and his dam, light red roan, he has many options. I am prediction he will be a bay roan, but for now, I am calling him a buckskin.
Some of the foals have been difficult to get a good photo of, but as we continue the behavior study we will try to get good photos of them all. It is highly likely that all of them, along with the one and two year olds, will be sold in the fall, so I will try to have all of the horses that may be sold pictured on this blog by October.
Auney, our first foal, has become a pretty red roan, as has one of our favorites, Roosevelt. At first we felt sorry for Roosevelt because he had no one his age to play with, but that hasn't held him back. Just like his namesake, he has learned to play with the big boys. He and his half brother, Charlie have become fast friends and spend a lot of time together playing like big stallions or resting in the sandy banks on Boicourt.
Buck, who was born a bay, is now showing the white that will, at some time in the future, blend with his dark bay coat to create at rich bay roan. His little brother, Rasmusson, was born red roan. His color was easy to predict, his gender was not. For the first several days, we called him a filly because the new foals have their hind quarters tucked under so much that it is hard to determine what they are. Once they are a few weeks old, it is no longer a problem.
The six foals in the Red Face and Singlefoot bands have a new baby sister. The overo mare, Lightning, had a cute overo filly who looks a lot like mama. We are hoping that she stays black like her mama and doesn't gray like her sire, Singlefoot.
Beauty, in Embers' band, looks as if she will be a blue roan to begin with, but most of her siblings have eventually turned gray like Bella. With graying, we will only know over time, since any color can gray. Little Rue, Neuens, Mosser, Little Mo, Barnhart, Roxie, Connolly, and Schaffer were all born dark. Time will tell whether they will roan, turn black or gray. Only Connolly, or as Hedrick calls her, Cocoa Puff, shows the telltale signs of roaning, a lighter underbelly and white at the top of her tail.
Rue has been a puzzling little filly. She seems to have been born missing a large patch of hide over her left shoulder. It was an ugly wound when we first saw her, but it didn't seem to bother her at all. Over the weeks it has filled in and healed. She seems to be doing very well, so there is no reason to believe that it will cause any problems in the future. Marquis, from High Star's band, has to be my favoite, but he too is difficult to predict for color. since his sire is balck and his dam, light red roan, he has many options. I am prediction he will be a bay roan, but for now, I am calling him a buckskin.
Some of the foals have been difficult to get a good photo of, but as we continue the behavior study we will try to get good photos of them all. It is highly likely that all of them, along with the one and two year olds, will be sold in the fall, so I will try to have all of the horses that may be sold pictured on this blog by October.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
HAZARDS
Horse tracking is definitely not without hazards. Spending eight hours a day outdoors is just what many of us consider a dream job, but some of the the situations we have encountered have been difficult or down right dangerous.
Jan and I had been tracking together for several days when we again found Mystery. Mystery was one of our old reliable stallions, who could usually be counted on to be in his familiar territory and therefore, not too hard to find. We had done several behavior observations of him and his four mares. Unfortunately Gray Lady was dry this spring and both Shale and Lacey had lost their foals, so the majority of our observations were the more boring feeding and resting.
This particular day we found them, later on a cool afternoon, resting by a small clay butte just northwest of Buck Hill. Near a small water pond on the way to the butte was an old lone bison bull. We gave him a cautious eye and plenty of space as we passed the pond. Generally lone bulls are harmless as long as they don't feel threatened and we were not interested in making him feel uncomfortable.
Focusing on the small band and determining how we should approach them, I soon pushed the bull out of my mind. We were about to settle ourselves on a small rise several yards from the band when Jan noticed that the bull had followed us; he was now grazing a few yards away. Thinking he was just following the trail away from the pond, we moved away to where we would leave him clear access to the trail. Again I focused on the band, but Jan was not so easily distracted. Within minutes he had circled the small rise and closed the distance between himself and us to about twenty feet. That was enough to convince us that we needed to put some distance or something substantial between us and the curious beast with the huge woolly head and menacing horns.
Where could we go that a bull bison couldn't follow us with unbelievable speed and agility? Nowhere, but we high tailed it to the nearest small butte anyway. It made us feel a little better to have that butte available to scamper up if we needed some height advantage, even though we knew he could get to the top faster than we could if he really wanted to. We were hoping he didn't want to!
He seemed to understand that he had sufficiently spooked us, so he proceeded on to the other butte to spook our band. They quickly followed our lead and moved on to a less popular hill while the old bull stopped to scratch on the butte. We could almost detect a swagger in his walk as he moved off to graze nearby. We got to finish our observation, but we kept an eye on our intruder, having gained a better understanding of why the schoolyard intimidator is called a "bully"!
Back in the Park in early June, we woke one morning to another unexpected intruder in our quest to find and observe the horses. It was June 6th in southwestern North Dakota, and it was snowing. Having lived in North Dakota more years that I like to admit to, I had never before seen snow in June, but there it was, coming down in huge clusters. At first we thought it would melt immediately when it hit the ground, which it did. But, it just kept coming, and coming, until the ground was covered. We decided to brave the now slippery loop road and go around the Park anyway. Maybe we would see some poor miserable horses hanging along the road, hoping to gain some warmth that may have remained in the blacktop. Well, we never saw a horse, not one, but we got some great photos of a phenomenon that we may never see again. I had to snap a photo of our young friend, Hedrick, from North Carolina, shivering in the cold.
Our last hazard we found on a much warmer day. We had been seeing several bands from Boicourt Ridge so we headed back out toward the north from the overlook. There on the bottoms, north of the ridge and tucked into a secluded valley, were Embers, High Star, and Cocoa. Since we had seen a carcase that we thought we should investigate near the fence, we walked all the way down to the north fence. It was only a large bison, but at least we knew it wasn't one of our missing horses. When it was time to go back we took a vote as to whether we should walk around the butte and up an easier valley or take the shorter route but have to climb the high, steep north face of the ridge. Hedrick voted the low road and I voted the high road, making it Henry's decision which way to go. That way we could blame him for a long walk or a steep climb, either contributing to the tired condition of our bodies.
He voted the low road, so we took off for the prairie dog town on what the Boicourts called Pleasant Flat. ( A future post will feature the information I was given about this adventurous family.) Plodding across the prairie dog town, we weren't paying much attention to where we were going as we pondered what it would be like to live on that flat 100 years ago. Suddenly Hedrick took a little longer step and exclaimed, "There's a snake in that hole!" Oh, there was a snake in the hole, all right. It was a fat coiled rattle snake at the mouth of the prairie dog den. Getting a photo of him was challenging since there was a lot of vegetation in front of him and Henry was not interested in clearing it away for me. He did oblige to throw a rock at the snake to prove it was indeed a rattler. The snake was was not too pleased with us interrupting his nap and having a rock tossed at him didn't improve his disposition. We decided it would be wise to pay a little more attention to where we were putting our feet from now on.
Having convinced us of it's power to change our plans, nature prevailed over the puney quests of man.
Jan and I had been tracking together for several days when we again found Mystery. Mystery was one of our old reliable stallions, who could usually be counted on to be in his familiar territory and therefore, not too hard to find. We had done several behavior observations of him and his four mares. Unfortunately Gray Lady was dry this spring and both Shale and Lacey had lost their foals, so the majority of our observations were the more boring feeding and resting.
This particular day we found them, later on a cool afternoon, resting by a small clay butte just northwest of Buck Hill. Near a small water pond on the way to the butte was an old lone bison bull. We gave him a cautious eye and plenty of space as we passed the pond. Generally lone bulls are harmless as long as they don't feel threatened and we were not interested in making him feel uncomfortable.
Focusing on the small band and determining how we should approach them, I soon pushed the bull out of my mind. We were about to settle ourselves on a small rise several yards from the band when Jan noticed that the bull had followed us; he was now grazing a few yards away. Thinking he was just following the trail away from the pond, we moved away to where we would leave him clear access to the trail. Again I focused on the band, but Jan was not so easily distracted. Within minutes he had circled the small rise and closed the distance between himself and us to about twenty feet. That was enough to convince us that we needed to put some distance or something substantial between us and the curious beast with the huge woolly head and menacing horns.
Where could we go that a bull bison couldn't follow us with unbelievable speed and agility? Nowhere, but we high tailed it to the nearest small butte anyway. It made us feel a little better to have that butte available to scamper up if we needed some height advantage, even though we knew he could get to the top faster than we could if he really wanted to. We were hoping he didn't want to!
He seemed to understand that he had sufficiently spooked us, so he proceeded on to the other butte to spook our band. They quickly followed our lead and moved on to a less popular hill while the old bull stopped to scratch on the butte. We could almost detect a swagger in his walk as he moved off to graze nearby. We got to finish our observation, but we kept an eye on our intruder, having gained a better understanding of why the schoolyard intimidator is called a "bully"!
Back in the Park in early June, we woke one morning to another unexpected intruder in our quest to find and observe the horses. It was June 6th in southwestern North Dakota, and it was snowing. Having lived in North Dakota more years that I like to admit to, I had never before seen snow in June, but there it was, coming down in huge clusters. At first we thought it would melt immediately when it hit the ground, which it did. But, it just kept coming, and coming, until the ground was covered. We decided to brave the now slippery loop road and go around the Park anyway. Maybe we would see some poor miserable horses hanging along the road, hoping to gain some warmth that may have remained in the blacktop. Well, we never saw a horse, not one, but we got some great photos of a phenomenon that we may never see again. I had to snap a photo of our young friend, Hedrick, from North Carolina, shivering in the cold.
Our last hazard we found on a much warmer day. We had been seeing several bands from Boicourt Ridge so we headed back out toward the north from the overlook. There on the bottoms, north of the ridge and tucked into a secluded valley, were Embers, High Star, and Cocoa. Since we had seen a carcase that we thought we should investigate near the fence, we walked all the way down to the north fence. It was only a large bison, but at least we knew it wasn't one of our missing horses. When it was time to go back we took a vote as to whether we should walk around the butte and up an easier valley or take the shorter route but have to climb the high, steep north face of the ridge. Hedrick voted the low road and I voted the high road, making it Henry's decision which way to go. That way we could blame him for a long walk or a steep climb, either contributing to the tired condition of our bodies.
He voted the low road, so we took off for the prairie dog town on what the Boicourts called Pleasant Flat. ( A future post will feature the information I was given about this adventurous family.) Plodding across the prairie dog town, we weren't paying much attention to where we were going as we pondered what it would be like to live on that flat 100 years ago. Suddenly Hedrick took a little longer step and exclaimed, "There's a snake in that hole!" Oh, there was a snake in the hole, all right. It was a fat coiled rattle snake at the mouth of the prairie dog den. Getting a photo of him was challenging since there was a lot of vegetation in front of him and Henry was not interested in clearing it away for me. He did oblige to throw a rock at the snake to prove it was indeed a rattler. The snake was was not too pleased with us interrupting his nap and having a rock tossed at him didn't improve his disposition. We decided it would be wise to pay a little more attention to where we were putting our feet from now on.
Having convinced us of it's power to change our plans, nature prevailed over the puney quests of man.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
THE FIGHTS CONTINUE
Red Face never seems to fail to provide excitement, since he continues to run with Singlefoot and his body guard, Satellite. It is such a curious thing to watch these three stallions maintain their alliances in a cooperative effort to ward off advances from other stallions who try to steal their mares. One could make a complete behavior study just on the dynamics of these three stallions.
Last year Red Face had no foals, leading us to wonder if he was able to settle his mares, but this year every mare he had in his harem foaled a healthy foal. Singelfoot lost two foals last year to unknown causes and only has one this year. Two more of his mares carrying this year's foals have yet to deliver. Though they have been successful in increasing their bands by reproduction, they have each lost mares in the past month. One would think their cooperative effort would make taking their mares more difficult, but Red Face has lost Firefly and her filly, Rue, to Sidekick and Strawberry, her three year old colt, Eclipse, and her new filly, Medora to High Star. Singlefoot has lost Molly and little Teddy Bear to Red Face and Bentonite and Sapphire to Wind Canyon.
On the hottest day of our last visit to the park, Jan and I hiked far into the interior of the park to an area that looks fairly flat from a distance but is laced with deep valleys. We felt it was worth a long hike on a hot day to find four bands in the same area and we wanted to check on Sidekick's little filly, Funny Girl, who was limping badly. We called in Henry and Hedrick, the other observation team, to help us work the larger bands in such rolling country. While they were coming, we were able to work Embers and his band. There was nothing new happening with them.
Moving a little closer to try to get all of Red Face and Singlefoot's bands in sight, we were able to see that Sundance had a solid bay filly with her. We also noticed a lone horse about five hundred yards fr0m the others. With the sun behind her, she looked dark chestnut and had me stumped for a time, but I finally realized it was the young black mare, Lignite. Since she was alone, I figured she must have a brand new foal with her too. Moving a little close yet, I was able to confirm that she had a cute black filly with her that was no more than a few hours old. She had most likely been born some time during the early hours of the morning and they had not yet returned to Red Face's band.
Not wanting me to get too close to the foal, Lignite started back to her band. Sensing an opportunity to steal another mare from Red Face, Sidekick approached her to bring her into his band grazing not too far from the larger band. Red Face was in a small valley and didn't see that his mare was about to be taken, but Satellite did see Sidekick and immediately sensed his intentions. Satellite ran to intervene while Lignite wheeled to try to protect Little Mo from the battle which she knew was about to irrupt. Satellite challenged Sidekick and both horses reared in defiance of one another. Satellite had beaten off Sidekick handily and was about to claim the mare for himself when Red Face showed up. I have never seem Red Face fight Satellite, but it has always been clear that Red Face is dominant over Satellite. Satellite was soon running from Red Face.
Twice more Red Face had to run off Satellite so it appears to be a matter of time before Satellite deserts his post as body guard to Singlefoot and acquires his own harem. It will be interesting who he will take them from. Will it be Red Face or Singlefoot, or will he take on another stallion? Only time and more observations will tell the rest of this story.
Last year Red Face had no foals, leading us to wonder if he was able to settle his mares, but this year every mare he had in his harem foaled a healthy foal. Singelfoot lost two foals last year to unknown causes and only has one this year. Two more of his mares carrying this year's foals have yet to deliver. Though they have been successful in increasing their bands by reproduction, they have each lost mares in the past month. One would think their cooperative effort would make taking their mares more difficult, but Red Face has lost Firefly and her filly, Rue, to Sidekick and Strawberry, her three year old colt, Eclipse, and her new filly, Medora to High Star. Singlefoot has lost Molly and little Teddy Bear to Red Face and Bentonite and Sapphire to Wind Canyon.
On the hottest day of our last visit to the park, Jan and I hiked far into the interior of the park to an area that looks fairly flat from a distance but is laced with deep valleys. We felt it was worth a long hike on a hot day to find four bands in the same area and we wanted to check on Sidekick's little filly, Funny Girl, who was limping badly. We called in Henry and Hedrick, the other observation team, to help us work the larger bands in such rolling country. While they were coming, we were able to work Embers and his band. There was nothing new happening with them.
Moving a little closer to try to get all of Red Face and Singlefoot's bands in sight, we were able to see that Sundance had a solid bay filly with her. We also noticed a lone horse about five hundred yards fr0m the others. With the sun behind her, she looked dark chestnut and had me stumped for a time, but I finally realized it was the young black mare, Lignite. Since she was alone, I figured she must have a brand new foal with her too. Moving a little close yet, I was able to confirm that she had a cute black filly with her that was no more than a few hours old. She had most likely been born some time during the early hours of the morning and they had not yet returned to Red Face's band.
Not wanting me to get too close to the foal, Lignite started back to her band. Sensing an opportunity to steal another mare from Red Face, Sidekick approached her to bring her into his band grazing not too far from the larger band. Red Face was in a small valley and didn't see that his mare was about to be taken, but Satellite did see Sidekick and immediately sensed his intentions. Satellite ran to intervene while Lignite wheeled to try to protect Little Mo from the battle which she knew was about to irrupt. Satellite challenged Sidekick and both horses reared in defiance of one another. Satellite had beaten off Sidekick handily and was about to claim the mare for himself when Red Face showed up. I have never seem Red Face fight Satellite, but it has always been clear that Red Face is dominant over Satellite. Satellite was soon running from Red Face.
Twice more Red Face had to run off Satellite so it appears to be a matter of time before Satellite deserts his post as body guard to Singlefoot and acquires his own harem. It will be interesting who he will take them from. Will it be Red Face or Singlefoot, or will he take on another stallion? Only time and more observations will tell the rest of this story.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
FOUR STALLION FIGHT
I still can't believe what we witnessed in the Park on that warm spring evening in May. We had just split up from our observations partners so that they could go back to town at the end of a long day of collecting behavior data. Driving west to where the north side of the loop road meets East River Road, I caught sight of horses just north of the Wind Canyon overlook. Turning the corner and looking back, we saw the double band of Red Face and Singlefoot along with Satellite, Singlefoot's second in charge. We decided to work them since they were so handy and we hadn't found them when looking for them earlier in the day.
Collecting data on Red Face's band first, we noticed that Molly's new little foal, Teddy Bear, was missing. It was apparent that she wanted to go look for him, but Red Face kept herding her back every time she attempted to leave the band. It's not unusual for a foal to be left behind sleeping when the bands moves off, but it is essential that he be found before nightfall. When Red Face moved farther down the butte to attend to another matter with his mares as they intermingled with Singlefoot's mares, Molly slipped away over a saddle between the two buttes. Strawberry almost gave her away when she started to follow, but hunger for the fresh green grass overcame her curiosity and she soon went back to grazing. Though Red Face looked off toward the saddle, he never left the band to look for Molly.
The rest of our 20 minute study went well with the usual feeding and resting behavior. When observing Singlefoot's band, we remarked that it was almost boring to have all feeding except for one move by Satellite that could be recorded as locomotion. We were about to put our equipment away and turn around old Air Force Blue, the Suburban we had been given to drive during the study, and head back to the camper for the night. It was about 6:15 and we had had a very successful day.
Suddenly Molly appeared just above River Road with her lost foal in tow. Right with her were Brutus and his small band of three. Brutus had spotted the lone mare and foal and attempted to add them to his harem, but Molly had led him right back to the double band with three defending stallions. The young Brutus was not one to back down from a fight. Red Face immediately met Brutus to reclaim his mare and the fight was on between the two strong stallions. Even with us parked right on the road and other vehicles passing by, they kept up a furious battle for several minutes while the mares tried to keep themselves and their vulnerable foals out of the way.
On the other side of the road, Singlefoot stayed with the mares, as usual, while his body guard, Satellite, charged up to join the battle. Red Face was trying to separate his mare from the other two while continuing to spar with Brutus. The mares finally sorted themselves out, Molly retuning to the double band below and Sweetheart, Cheyenne, and her young filly, Auney, disappearing over the hill from where they had come. Close behind was Satellite who had sensed an opportunity to take them from Brutus while he was distracted by Red Face. With no other horses getting in the way, Red Face soon had Brutus on the run, chasing him back over the hill to the west.
During a short lull in the action, the conquering Red Face returned to graze with the horses below as if the conflict we had just witnessed was all in a days work.
The drama didn't end there, however. Satellite soon reappeared with Brutus' two mares and foal. He had evidently had to convince them forcefully to come with him for Sweetheart, the striking black and white overo, had fresh blood streaming down her side from a vicious bite. We watched Satellite herd them to the other side of the valley by snaking at them, head lowered, his ears flat back against his neck. They didn't seem to want to go with him but knew they were no match for him, so ran obediently ahead of him.
It wasn't long before Brutus reappeared searching for his missing harem. He was not happy to see that Satellite had taken them. Though he kept a watchful eye toward Red Face, he went immediately to challenge Satellite for the mares. Satellite charged at him with so much force that they both almost went to the ground. Satellite succeeded in driving Brutus away. The seemingly confused Brutus then ran down the hill to pick a fight with Singlefoot, but that encounter was neither long lasting nor highly motivated. Brutus soon ran off to the south east, seemingly beaten and tired.
A few minutes later he appeared behind and above Satellite and the mares, having circled to attack from another direction. Hooves clashed and bodies pounded one another again. He chased Satellite while the frightened mares ran ahead until he was finally able to get between Satellite and the mares. After one last chase, Satellite gave up and returned to the bands below and his job as second in command while the victorious Brutus pranced across the skyline back to his mares.
We suspect there will future battles as Brutus gains more confidence. He had just fought three stallions for almost 45 minutes. He didn't win any additional mares this time, but he will be back.
Collecting data on Red Face's band first, we noticed that Molly's new little foal, Teddy Bear, was missing. It was apparent that she wanted to go look for him, but Red Face kept herding her back every time she attempted to leave the band. It's not unusual for a foal to be left behind sleeping when the bands moves off, but it is essential that he be found before nightfall. When Red Face moved farther down the butte to attend to another matter with his mares as they intermingled with Singlefoot's mares, Molly slipped away over a saddle between the two buttes. Strawberry almost gave her away when she started to follow, but hunger for the fresh green grass overcame her curiosity and she soon went back to grazing. Though Red Face looked off toward the saddle, he never left the band to look for Molly.
The rest of our 20 minute study went well with the usual feeding and resting behavior. When observing Singlefoot's band, we remarked that it was almost boring to have all feeding except for one move by Satellite that could be recorded as locomotion. We were about to put our equipment away and turn around old Air Force Blue, the Suburban we had been given to drive during the study, and head back to the camper for the night. It was about 6:15 and we had had a very successful day.
Suddenly Molly appeared just above River Road with her lost foal in tow. Right with her were Brutus and his small band of three. Brutus had spotted the lone mare and foal and attempted to add them to his harem, but Molly had led him right back to the double band with three defending stallions. The young Brutus was not one to back down from a fight. Red Face immediately met Brutus to reclaim his mare and the fight was on between the two strong stallions. Even with us parked right on the road and other vehicles passing by, they kept up a furious battle for several minutes while the mares tried to keep themselves and their vulnerable foals out of the way.
On the other side of the road, Singlefoot stayed with the mares, as usual, while his body guard, Satellite, charged up to join the battle. Red Face was trying to separate his mare from the other two while continuing to spar with Brutus. The mares finally sorted themselves out, Molly retuning to the double band below and Sweetheart, Cheyenne, and her young filly, Auney, disappearing over the hill from where they had come. Close behind was Satellite who had sensed an opportunity to take them from Brutus while he was distracted by Red Face. With no other horses getting in the way, Red Face soon had Brutus on the run, chasing him back over the hill to the west.
During a short lull in the action, the conquering Red Face returned to graze with the horses below as if the conflict we had just witnessed was all in a days work.
The drama didn't end there, however. Satellite soon reappeared with Brutus' two mares and foal. He had evidently had to convince them forcefully to come with him for Sweetheart, the striking black and white overo, had fresh blood streaming down her side from a vicious bite. We watched Satellite herd them to the other side of the valley by snaking at them, head lowered, his ears flat back against his neck. They didn't seem to want to go with him but knew they were no match for him, so ran obediently ahead of him.
It wasn't long before Brutus reappeared searching for his missing harem. He was not happy to see that Satellite had taken them. Though he kept a watchful eye toward Red Face, he went immediately to challenge Satellite for the mares. Satellite charged at him with so much force that they both almost went to the ground. Satellite succeeded in driving Brutus away. The seemingly confused Brutus then ran down the hill to pick a fight with Singlefoot, but that encounter was neither long lasting nor highly motivated. Brutus soon ran off to the south east, seemingly beaten and tired.
A few minutes later he appeared behind and above Satellite and the mares, having circled to attack from another direction. Hooves clashed and bodies pounded one another again. He chased Satellite while the frightened mares ran ahead until he was finally able to get between Satellite and the mares. After one last chase, Satellite gave up and returned to the bands below and his job as second in command while the victorious Brutus pranced across the skyline back to his mares.
We suspect there will future battles as Brutus gains more confidence. He had just fought three stallions for almost 45 minutes. He didn't win any additional mares this time, but he will be back.
LITTLE SORREL'S BAND
When we left Little Sorrel on the last posting of this blog, he had succeeded in chasing Cruiser away, but we didn't know how long. On this trip, as we drove past the Park to Medora, we saw Criuser--------Alone! It seems Little Sorrel has again prevailed. We were rather disappointed because Little Sorrel has too many mares and it would be good if the band was divided, but, small as he is, Little Sorrel must be very strong to fight off outside stallions and maintain the largest band at fifteen.
On a rainy day, heading back to the office to avoid getting soaked and do some paperwork, we ran across the band huddled together in the rain. Freckles had left Shadow and her two older fillies to come back to her band with her new colt, Cooper. Soggy little Cooper was born a sorrel, but he looks like he will roan or possibly even gray like his dam. He wasn't appreciating the rain on the day of his birth, but a few days later, when the sun shone warm on his tiny body, he ran and bucked with the pure joy of being alive.
While we were recording the band 's behavior, his bigger brother by a few weeks, Buck, awoke to find his dam missing. He first went to Grandma Roan to seek comfort from her, but she just ignored him and continued grazing. He then went to his big brother, Butte, a three year old. We expected Butte to run him off, but Butte was very tender with little Buck, allowing him to hang out until mama reappeared.
On a previous day, Butte and his best buddy, Socks, put on a show for us, demonstrating their prowess as fighting stallions. They were mostly ignored by the rest of the band until Butte ran headlong into several of his band mates just trying to rest and get some sun. He scattered them like bowling pins, but never slowed down to look back. Check out the photos below. Little sister, Annie, thinks those boys are just silly and boring!
On a rainy day, heading back to the office to avoid getting soaked and do some paperwork, we ran across the band huddled together in the rain. Freckles had left Shadow and her two older fillies to come back to her band with her new colt, Cooper. Soggy little Cooper was born a sorrel, but he looks like he will roan or possibly even gray like his dam. He wasn't appreciating the rain on the day of his birth, but a few days later, when the sun shone warm on his tiny body, he ran and bucked with the pure joy of being alive.
While we were recording the band 's behavior, his bigger brother by a few weeks, Buck, awoke to find his dam missing. He first went to Grandma Roan to seek comfort from her, but she just ignored him and continued grazing. He then went to his big brother, Butte, a three year old. We expected Butte to run him off, but Butte was very tender with little Buck, allowing him to hang out until mama reappeared.
On a previous day, Butte and his best buddy, Socks, put on a show for us, demonstrating their prowess as fighting stallions. They were mostly ignored by the rest of the band until Butte ran headlong into several of his band mates just trying to rest and get some sun. He scattered them like bowling pins, but never slowed down to look back. Check out the photos below. Little sister, Annie, thinks those boys are just silly and boring!
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