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. 

Diamond in the Rough

We left Yellowstone, taking a wild ride over Beartooth Pass.  Quite honestly, its twists and turns rivaled Disney's Space Mountain.

Then... poof... the mountains vanished from the rear view mirror as we headed east toward North Dakota.  I admit that I was melancholy, leaving my beautiful mountains.  It was yet another reminder that our adventure is almost over.  I packed up the long-distance lens on the camera, figuring that I would not be taking many more wildlife shots.

We spent the night in Hardin, Montana, then continued eastward to Theodore Roosevelt National Park.  The terrain began to change, offering hope that perhaps God had a few more surprises for us.  He definitely outdid Himself!

Theodore Roosevelt National Park is truly a diamond in the rough terrain near Medora, North Dakota.  After a bison hunt in the area, Roosevelt was so taken with the landscape that he purchased a ranch that later became part of this beautiful national park.

The arid terrain is dotted with juniper.  Golden cottonwoods line rivers and creeks.  The mountains looked like Indian skirts layered in beautiful reds, greys, and browns, a mixture of sedimentary rock and stone.

We chatted with the park ranger in the visitor center about possible animal sightings.  He marked the map with the best wildlife viewing areas, warning us that with hunting season open outside the park that animals may be scarce.  The next morning, mustering optimism, I reloaded the long-distance lens.

We awoke to a perfect morning, crisp and cool... just a day after a hard rain.  Within minutes, we caught sight of a bull elk running along a ridge against a brilliant blue sky.

Around a bend, we found a bison basking in the sunlight...

And a beautiful doe grazing...

Then I spied him on a ridge... a wild stallion... and I caught my breath.

Since childhood, these magnificent creatures have stirred my heart.  My office is replete with horse art, including paintings, photos, prints, and carvings.  On September 25, 2010, God blessed me with the opportunity to take my first photograph of a wild stallion.  I admit that I wept at the sight of this splendid beast.

Although we had only planned to spend one night, we spent three wonderful days and nights at Roosevelt, reveling in the landscape and wildlife.  Our campsite overlooked a mesa.  Each night, Venus rose above the horizon, and we were bathed in starlight.  

The last morning when we awoke, David and I laughed and both said that we thought that we had heard heavy hooves around the camper during the night.  When we stepped out of the camper, Rox immediately found evidence that we were right.  An enormous bison patty lay not more than eight feet from our door.  After a quick survey of the area, we found the culprit:  a bull grazing about 50 yards from us.  (Roxanne has since certainly developed an affinity for bison... perhaps because she knows what the north and south end of a bison smell like!)

For me, however, it is the wild horses that will bring me back to North Dakota.  I leave you with just a few of the precious moments that we shared with them.   

Tonight I bow in deep gratitude to the One who gave the horse his strength and clothed his neck with thunder.  Job 39:19