"Colt" at the Mustang Makeover Pickup Point.
I was up at the break of dawn, as the dark indigo sky began to turn to a soft, pearly gray. The sun was just beginning to stretch over the blue mountains in the distance, and the birds were barely stirring. But the adrenaline and excitement running through my veins was too much for me to continue tossing and turning in bed. I quickly threw on some clothes and clambered down the stairs, careful to step over furry snoring lumps of dog at the foot of the steps.
Today was the day!
I sometimes forgot how exciting the Mustang Makeover could be, even though the last one was only a year ago. A year since I had brought my jittery Windswept home, though now she is a calm, easygoing barrels horse, happily residing in one of the far pastures with a few other Western horses. But in a few hours, I'd hop in the truck (which was already hooked up to the trailer), and head out to pick up my new boy. That's all they told me: he was young, and a gelding. Already different from getting a fully matured mare last year. I wasn't allowing myself to "wish" for anything- I wanted the surprise, the challenge, and the gift of not knowing.
I spent the next few hours as murky purple skies turned to brilliant golds and pinks cleaning up the paddock facing the house. It was a joint paddock, a smaller paddock joined by a gate to a larger one with a run-in shed. For the first few days I'd let him get used to the smaller paddock before opening the gate to give him full rein. He would not want for shade and shelter though- there was some trees in one corner. I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the water trough free of algae, until it was black and shiny and as good as when we bought it- other than the dent from a silly yearling's kick. I stood by the trough, surveying the paddock while leaving the hose to fill it. I needed to remain calm and not excite the horse. I practiced slowing my breathing, before putting away the hose and head for the truck. Derek and Annika would be waiting here when I got home... I waved goodbye to the dogs and a few curious muzzles peering over the fence near the barn.
The trip there was long and winding, but I just listened to music and watched the scenery fly by, as Wyoming desert turned to Utah desert. I was so glad the pickup point was near the border of Wyoming, where Wander Home Stables resided. Though Wander Home was a mixture of old buildings and new- history and new beginnings. I was so shocked when my grandmother passed and left in her will that I was to have my grandfather's land. None of us knew of any land! Apparently it had been passed from family member to family member like some sort of hot potato until it rested on my grandparents, then to me. My grandfather had grown up in Wyoming, and was heartbroken to have to return to the East Coast. And even more so when he left for Vietnam and never came home, when my mom was only six. I sighed faintly at the sad memories and cranked up the music some more.
A few family members were upset that I had been given this land, but it was mine now, and no one was taking Wander Home Stables from me. It was my escape, escape from worry and care, escape from fighting and long-fueled anger, and escape from the sweaty, humid summers of the East Coast. It was hot here, sure, but it was the dry heat. And Wyoming wasn't all desert- it was forests, mountains, plains, wetlands, all varied- and desert. I softly laughed and peeked out the window at a circling buzzard above.
Within a few hours, I pulled into the pickup point, where officials in monogrammed khakis and trainers in jeans loitered around, talking and pointing at various horses. I wasn't super early as others had made it here before me, but I'm glad I'd beaten some of the crowd, since I had a long drive back. I picked up a slip, confirming my name was Seren Ismain, and got a slip of paper reading,
"726109... huh." I paused, looking around for the right pen. A official waved me through, and I headed up, moving towards the gray rails, eyes hungrily searching for a young gelding with the right brand. Two males who looked a bit too old to be mine...one who's brand clearly ended with "5", and one standing in the opposite corner. His coat was covered in dried red mud, and even his mane was laced with dirt and dead grass. But his gaze turned my way, and I was rooted in my boots. His eyes were a crisp, clear blue, clearer than the skies above. It was stunning. So different from the deep doe-brown eyes of her last mustang. But he couldn't be hers...right?
A man in khaki tapped her back, and spoke with a husky drawl. "That's 726109. He's got wild eyes, right? Anyway, when you hear his ID called, go back up your trailer to the chute and we'll help you." I could scarcely believe him, and gave a little nod before returning to watching my new boy, as he shifted from a stiff standing pose to an easy going trot, trying to check out some of the other horses- maybe looking for some bachelor buddies of his? He was old enough to be driven out by now.
Within a few hours, my trailer was backed up, and I was watching some officials separate and drive my colt towards the metal chute that led to the inside of our trailer. This was my least favorite part of the whole event. They look so panicked...it makes my heart ache a bit. I bit my lip as he dashed down the chute, clattering, before bolting into the interior of the trailer. The loud clamoring and metal bangs were suddenly greeted with a scream, and I could see him rearing up and lashing out in fear, trying to get out of the trailer. The doors were bolted by the others now, and I could see how nervous he was, pacing back and forth, so the trailer rocked some. I wanted his ordeal to be over as soon as possible, and as soon as I got the okay I leapt into the cab and headed out, blazing down the open road as carefully and legally as I could. The rocking continued for a good nice while, before he finally quieted. My mind was racing over possibilities. Was he frightened by the cramped space, or just the overall experience? He hadn't seem terrible upset in the pen before the driving happened though. I mulled over options, glancing back in the mirror to see if I could spot any flash of blue eyes through the window in the trailer.
We were greeted by a pair of eager faces. Well, one really eager face topped with red hair, and a more mellow face topped with brunette. Derek and Annika were almost as excited as I was to see our new addition. I pulled up, backing up to the paddock gate, and hopped down, pushing my hair out of my face. Annika was over in a flash, full of questions.
"What color is he? How is he? Is anything wrong?"
"Slow down! He's got a white face and blue eyes, and I'm pretty sure he's a roan. He's nervous and needs to get out. Maybe we can discuss options after then, hmm?" I cast a quick glance at Derek, who nodded and immediately headed over to the opposite trailer door. Counting to three, we swung them open, locking them so the only way to go was to the paddock. It was quiet for a moment, then an explosion of dirt and muscle came out, coming down from the trailer with a harsh thump, and spinning around to stare around the paddock in confusion. He looked so lost, so confused, and a bit...stressed still.
I wanted desperately to help him, but I knew the most help would be some space to calm down. We moved out, and I headed out to do chores. It was already late afternoon between the long drive.
That night, resting in my bedroom, I glanced out the window to see a dark shape and a white fast floating around the paddock, peering over the fence. He looked like a ghost out there, wispy and faint in the darkness. I sighed, and scribbled down a possible name on the pad of paper next to the my bed.
No, that's not it.
I was up at the break of dawn, as the dark indigo sky began to turn to a soft, pearly gray. The sun was just beginning to stretch over the blue mountains in the distance, and the birds were barely stirring. But the adrenaline and excitement running through my veins was too much for me to continue tossing and turning in bed. I quickly threw on some clothes and clambered down the stairs, careful to step over furry snoring lumps of dog at the foot of the steps.
Today was the day!
I sometimes forgot how exciting the Mustang Makeover could be, even though the last one was only a year ago. A year since I had brought my jittery Windswept home, though now she is a calm, easygoing barrels horse, happily residing in one of the far pastures with a few other Western horses. But in a few hours, I'd hop in the truck (which was already hooked up to the trailer), and head out to pick up my new boy. That's all they told me: he was young, and a gelding. Already different from getting a fully matured mare last year. I wasn't allowing myself to "wish" for anything- I wanted the surprise, the challenge, and the gift of not knowing.
I spent the next few hours as murky purple skies turned to brilliant golds and pinks cleaning up the paddock facing the house. It was a joint paddock, a smaller paddock joined by a gate to a larger one with a run-in shed. For the first few days I'd let him get used to the smaller paddock before opening the gate to give him full rein. He would not want for shade and shelter though- there was some trees in one corner. I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the water trough free of algae, until it was black and shiny and as good as when we bought it- other than the dent from a silly yearling's kick. I stood by the trough, surveying the paddock while leaving the hose to fill it. I needed to remain calm and not excite the horse. I practiced slowing my breathing, before putting away the hose and head for the truck. Derek and Annika would be waiting here when I got home... I waved goodbye to the dogs and a few curious muzzles peering over the fence near the barn.
The trip there was long and winding, but I just listened to music and watched the scenery fly by, as Wyoming desert turned to Utah desert. I was so glad the pickup point was near the border of Wyoming, where Wander Home Stables resided. Though Wander Home was a mixture of old buildings and new- history and new beginnings. I was so shocked when my grandmother passed and left in her will that I was to have my grandfather's land. None of us knew of any land! Apparently it had been passed from family member to family member like some sort of hot potato until it rested on my grandparents, then to me. My grandfather had grown up in Wyoming, and was heartbroken to have to return to the East Coast. And even more so when he left for Vietnam and never came home, when my mom was only six. I sighed faintly at the sad memories and cranked up the music some more.
A few family members were upset that I had been given this land, but it was mine now, and no one was taking Wander Home Stables from me. It was my escape, escape from worry and care, escape from fighting and long-fueled anger, and escape from the sweaty, humid summers of the East Coast. It was hot here, sure, but it was the dry heat. And Wyoming wasn't all desert- it was forests, mountains, plains, wetlands, all varied- and desert. I softly laughed and peeked out the window at a circling buzzard above.
Within a few hours, I pulled into the pickup point, where officials in monogrammed khakis and trainers in jeans loitered around, talking and pointing at various horses. I wasn't super early as others had made it here before me, but I'm glad I'd beaten some of the crowd, since I had a long drive back. I picked up a slip, confirming my name was Seren Ismain, and got a slip of paper reading,
Mustang Makeover
Presented by Cottonwood Wild Horse Ranch.
Trainer's Name: Seren Ismain
Mustang ID: 726109
Gender: Gelding
Age: 3 Years
Range: Unspecified.
"726109... huh." I paused, looking around for the right pen. A official waved me through, and I headed up, moving towards the gray rails, eyes hungrily searching for a young gelding with the right brand. Two males who looked a bit too old to be mine...one who's brand clearly ended with "5", and one standing in the opposite corner. His coat was covered in dried red mud, and even his mane was laced with dirt and dead grass. But his gaze turned my way, and I was rooted in my boots. His eyes were a crisp, clear blue, clearer than the skies above. It was stunning. So different from the deep doe-brown eyes of her last mustang. But he couldn't be hers...right?
A man in khaki tapped her back, and spoke with a husky drawl. "That's 726109. He's got wild eyes, right? Anyway, when you hear his ID called, go back up your trailer to the chute and we'll help you." I could scarcely believe him, and gave a little nod before returning to watching my new boy, as he shifted from a stiff standing pose to an easy going trot, trying to check out some of the other horses- maybe looking for some bachelor buddies of his? He was old enough to be driven out by now.
Within a few hours, my trailer was backed up, and I was watching some officials separate and drive my colt towards the metal chute that led to the inside of our trailer. This was my least favorite part of the whole event. They look so panicked...it makes my heart ache a bit. I bit my lip as he dashed down the chute, clattering, before bolting into the interior of the trailer. The loud clamoring and metal bangs were suddenly greeted with a scream, and I could see him rearing up and lashing out in fear, trying to get out of the trailer. The doors were bolted by the others now, and I could see how nervous he was, pacing back and forth, so the trailer rocked some. I wanted his ordeal to be over as soon as possible, and as soon as I got the okay I leapt into the cab and headed out, blazing down the open road as carefully and legally as I could. The rocking continued for a good nice while, before he finally quieted. My mind was racing over possibilities. Was he frightened by the cramped space, or just the overall experience? He hadn't seem terrible upset in the pen before the driving happened though. I mulled over options, glancing back in the mirror to see if I could spot any flash of blue eyes through the window in the trailer.
We were greeted by a pair of eager faces. Well, one really eager face topped with red hair, and a more mellow face topped with brunette. Derek and Annika were almost as excited as I was to see our new addition. I pulled up, backing up to the paddock gate, and hopped down, pushing my hair out of my face. Annika was over in a flash, full of questions.
"What color is he? How is he? Is anything wrong?"
"Slow down! He's got a white face and blue eyes, and I'm pretty sure he's a roan. He's nervous and needs to get out. Maybe we can discuss options after then, hmm?" I cast a quick glance at Derek, who nodded and immediately headed over to the opposite trailer door. Counting to three, we swung them open, locking them so the only way to go was to the paddock. It was quiet for a moment, then an explosion of dirt and muscle came out, coming down from the trailer with a harsh thump, and spinning around to stare around the paddock in confusion. He looked so lost, so confused, and a bit...stressed still.
I wanted desperately to help him, but I knew the most help would be some space to calm down. We moved out, and I headed out to do chores. It was already late afternoon between the long drive.
That night, resting in my bedroom, I glanced out the window to see a dark shape and a white fast floating around the paddock, peering over the fence. He looked like a ghost out there, wispy and faint in the darkness. I sighed, and scribbled down a possible name on the pad of paper next to the my bed.
Phantom
No, that's not it.
Phantom.
OOC Notes: This would have been posted earlier if not for my finger injury! The first half-day is just for him to rest and get used to his paddock. More in depth about him tomorrow. I will be posting a guide on my journals soon!
