I’m sorry it’s taking me weeks and weeks and post after post to chronicle what took place over an evening, a day, and a morning.
But I’m also not sorry. Because there are fantastic things to share, in particular these shots of the wild mustangs.
You may be thinking to yourself: wild horses on a cattle ranch? Hunh? The explanation goes something like this: it’s a federal offense to kill a wild mustang. However, this breed of indomitable beauties is taking over certain Western States. So the government was like “Crap! What are we going to do?” Well, they separated the mustangs out into ladies and gentlemen to avoid any more funny business, and contracted people with extensive lands to take care of the horses. The Drummond ranch plays host to a huge herd of mares.
In the winter months, the grasses aren’t enough to sustain them, so Marlboro Man (the Pioneer Woman’s husband) and the kids feed them in the mornings.
We went along for the ride.
It was early . . . but not too early. A mere 7:30am.
Mission #1 was to fill the back of the truck with feed. Marlboro Man didn’t seem to mind that everyone and their mother was taking his picture.
I never in my life would have imagined when I started reading Ree’s website last year that one day my Mom would be riding in the front of a truck with Marlboro Man.
Hi Mom! My head still gets a funny ache when I think about it.
Ann, Jenn and I rode in a separate truck driven by Ree’s eldest daughter.
She successfully drove us through fields . . .
. . . through some kind of moat of danger . . .
. . . and through a landscape riddled with obstacles.
Some obstacles she just drove right over, but some obstacles required talented maneuvering.
Like these cow-shaped obstacles.
Oh wait! Those are actual real cows!
Our kind driver was especially patient when Ann and I shrieked “Oh, can you stop here, we just want to take a couple more pictures!” and practically climbed out the truck’s windows.
This only happened about 529 times.
My name is Patsy.
This is my butt.
All the cows wanted to show me their butts. I could barely get in a good head shot of some nice-looking bovine creature before they were turning around and modeling their hind ends.
My name is Rex Magnificat.
This is my butt.
Thanks Rex. That’s just what I needed to see on a bright and early morning before I’ve even had my coffee.
We were able to see the wild horses in two separate pastures.
I don’t even know what to say about them.
They’re simply glorious.
If only I hadn’t forgotten my telephoto lens.
One minute they were all trotting parallel to the trucks, on the other side of a fence, in their own little world of mustang-ness.
Then . . . whoomp.
Hello, horses. Hello, Jenna.
I like to think we made a connection. A connection that will outlive time and space.
Thank you, Marlboro Man and daughter, for so graciously carting us ladies around your neck of the woods.
Thank you for posing for a million pictures and understanding that because we love the Pioneer Woman, we love you, too.
Make sure to check out Ann‘s rendering of the account–she’s such a funny writer.
And in case you haven’t seen enough of Nelson and Winthrop, here they are again.