Showing posts with label Girl Scouts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Girl Scouts. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 10, 2021

Wild Hopes

“I’m going to let our hopes run as wild as the Mustangs,” by Jocelyn, age 10.


We need the free spirit of the mustang right now. We need some hope of a free tomorrow where we can run like the wild horses. And we need little children like Jocelyn who have a purpose and a heart to help the wild things.


Remember the song from the movie Anne Mamie,“We need a little Christmas, right this very moment?”  Join in.


A dear friend, Jocelyn’s grandmother, sent Jocelyn’s drawing to me. I thought it was so wonderful, I had to use it. You know me and horses, and here I had found a kindred spirit in a little girl who loves horses as I did when I was her age. Still do. You don’t have to be a kid to love horses or to ever ride or even touch one. Watch them running across the prairie and imagine how that would feel--the wind in your hair, the exhilaration of the run, being with your herd.


 “Winged” has often been ascribed to the horse.


I told her grandma, “Nana,” that I had adopted a mustang, which sent us off talking about horses and exchanging pictures. I received a video of Jocelyn, who lives in another state, running down a wooded path—her giggles making a Doppler effect as she and Cookie, a pony, ran past the recording photographer.


Jocelyn is the illustrator and spoke’s person for her Girl Scouts Troop who is sponsoring the Wild Beauty Foundation. This foundation was formed by filmmakers Ashley Avis and Edward Winters on the heels of the upcoming feature film Black Beauty.


The Wild Beauty Foundation was inspired by Anna Sewell, author of the original 19th-century novel Black Beauty. As Sewell’s message was to give voices to the cab horses of her day. The Wild Beauty Foundation’s focus is to give voices to the wild mustangs.


So, buy cookies and help give voices to the Wild Mustangs.


To know a mustang is to love them. Well, you don’t even have to know one. Seeing a herd running wild and free is enough to swell your heart.


Sierra, my mustang, had a freeze brand on her neck that looked like a strip of hieroglyphics. If you had the translation of the brand, you would know what herd she came from, the area, and the date of capture. Having a freeze brand meant she could never be sold for slaughter. Never, never do that. That’s a crime against all that’s sacred. Her pregnant momma was rounded up and gave birth to Sierra at the BLM holding facility in Burns, Oregon, where I adopted her as a baby of five and one-half months-old.


What a character she was, and curious as all get-out, smart and loving. While my quarter horse thought plastic bottles in a box was a monster, Sierra knew that rattling box was a play-toy. 


After Sierra was gentled and knew that our place was home, I turned her and her roommate, Velvet, loose where they frolicked around the house, jumped and ran on the drive, then rolled in the Oregon red-mud. All that before settling down for some grazing. (We lived in the forest, so our property was private.)


Sierra had a wild heart and a sweet nature, with a propensity for gnawing on our pickup truck. She accepted a sack of kitty litter on her back (as weight) and later-on, me. Her feet were strong and kept perfectly trimmed by running on the gravel drive. 


(Not so for the quarter horse).


The strength of the wild.


This picture is also posted on, and that site includes more pictures of the Island, and horses.