Needle in a Haystack

We drove into the Challis Wild Horse Management Area but found no horses along the entrance road. It was late afternoon, and storm clouds were moving in. We had originally planned to camp at a spot with a 360-degree view. The skies became darker and lightening struck in the high country all around us. We had to find protected ground. We decided to camp along the Salmon River but soon discovered it was privately owned land. The wind picked up, and we knew we were in for a blow. We spied a gravel pit where the county stored gravel and dirt to maintain the roads. It was perfect for us... surrounded by taller mountains and nestled below the gravel piles. Within a half hour, we were pelted by rain, rocked by wind, and surrounded by lightning. Wow!  Thankfully, the storm was short-lived, and we were soon taking a trek to survey our surroundings. 

This photo is our morning view.

We were anxious to get started the next morning, hoping to see as many wild horses as possible. David drove a steep four-wheel drive trail up to the 360-degree viewpoint. Off in the distance, I spied two sets of horses. One consisting of two horses, the other with four. Now... how to get closer!  To give you a perspective of how far away the horses were, I took the photo below with a 600mm zoom lens.  If you look closely to the left of the trees, you will see the band stallion as a white speck.

David plotted the way, and we made it fairly close to the first two horses. They were bachelor stallions. Both were curious yet skittish. We walked a distance to them before they showed signs of concern. We would stop walking, and they would stop trotting. Then they would move towards us, curious. They headed downwind of us so they could smell us.  Then they blew their noses and walked away.  We were never able to get really close to them, but it was wonderful all the same. 

The Challis horse herd is made up of a mixed DNA, beginning with Spanish mustang, American gaited horses, draft horses, and true ponies. The white stallion of these two definitely had a gaited background. When he trotted, he literally pranced.  He was poetry in motion. (If you're having trouble uploading the video, please visit my Instagram site:  Virginia Parker Staat)

We decided to try to make our way closer to the other band. It appeared to consist of a stallion, two mares, and a foal. The off-road trails were rugged, rocky, and rough. We needed every bit of our high clearance in some spots, and our heavy-duty, truck-rated E-3 tires saved the day. 

To give you an idea of how rough the roads were, here are two photos... one is how the back of the camper normally looks, and the second is how it looked after taking the rugged roads. 

We would often stop to check the second herd’s position while making our way towards them. We would scan to check them with the binoculars only to see the stallion watching us back. 

We finally crested the summit at 7,777 feet and struck out on foot. It was an arduous climb up loose rock and uneven ground. We finally reached an area where we should have been able to see the horses, only to find they had vanished. Such is the life of a photographer.

These six horses were the only ones we saw during our time here at the Challis Herd Management Area. It really was no great surprise. First, the area is vast, encompassing 167,848 acres, and we only traveled a small part of the the central portion. Secondly, and perhaps most important, the herd had suffered a helicopter round up last fall. Although this particular method is hardest on the horses, it is an expedient way to corral them and cull the herd down to recommended numbers (185 for Challis). The horses are chased by helicopter and ATVs, corralled, and culled. Often horses break legs stampeding in front of the noisy, steel beasts. We learned that nearly half the Challis herd was culled, effectively destroying the social hierarchy, band territories, and family units. It often takes over a year for herds to re-establish after such trauma. These horses were still skittish and, rightfully, leery of man. Perhaps in another year, they can rebuild their confidence and social units. Until then, finding these horses will be like finding a needle in a haystack. 

We spent our last night here under clear skies and feeling like we were the only two people on earth. How privileged we are to be here tonight.