The Day Wild Horses Dragged Me Away
Tales From The Florida Swamps
“Get behind the lady” he said. “You’ll be safe over there” he said.
Collecting my camera gear and shuffling it out of the path, I finished his sentences in my head with the comical “it’ll be fun they said.”
Meanwhile, he and his 3 year old daughter scrambled behind me on an inclined bank that dove into the marsh at a 90 degree angle.
I live in Florida. So when I say “marsh” you can just translate that to “alligator home” for good measure.
Believe it or not, alligators are pretty darn nice people — more amiable than most humans I know, and I know a LOT of humans. Alligators don’t bug you, and they tend to run off if you bug them. Perhaps that’s why this man was the second man to tell me he “would rather be down there with the gators than up here with the horses.” Interesting idea. I didn’t share his sentiment in the least. But a world loaded with people that think just like me would be alarmingly dull.
The horses of Paynes Prairie are a very intriguing lot. I’d never met a wild horse until this year, and since my first encounter, where they ran away with my soul, I’ve had several more.
The first instance, I was hunkered down shooting pictures of a basking alligator when I heard a man come up behind me. He sounded frightened.
“Uh…um…look over there.”
“Over there”, about 20 yards down the trail, was a wild horse, descended from those the Spanish brought to North America over 500 years ago. When I say “wild” I mean completely wild. They are not fed, groomed, interacted with, or provided veterinary care of any kind. They roam free.
I’d seen them from a distance on a few occasions, but there was one staring me right in the face.
I wasn’t entirely certain how to respond, so I methodically collected my camera gear just in case the horse decided he’d want the 4–5 foot wide trail. I stood there, in awe of this magnificent creature as it stared back at me. He began to walk over slowly. The gentleman and his daughter were crouching behind me, receding further towards the ledge. Imagine a “peek-a-boo” kind of situation with a big dude hiding behind the curtain that was my khaki photography vest. Eventually I hear “I can’t go any further!”
“They won’t hurt us will they?” he sheepishly inquired. I hesitantly told him that I did not expect a problem but that we should stay to the side of trail and give them space. I say “them” because I could see another one about to come up on the trail as well.
Consider the odds. I was on a 22,000 acre area of land, specifically on a 5 foot wide trail, barely over a mile long. These horses had decided to step up on this little patch of land. I couldn’t believe it! Talk about thrilling!
Within a short time, the horse took off in a sprint TOWARDS me. There wasn’t a helluva lot of space to maneuver, and I sure didn’t want to be the ass that knocked a 3 year old into a gator marsh, right?
I have a tremendous affection for gators. It’s in my Louisiana blood. But I still didn’t care to get down in the marsh with any. Even if they were smiling. Hell, maybe they were smiling at how ridiculous we looked. They were probably thinking “So…you’re scared of a horse, eh? Bwahahahaha!”
I wanted a picture badly, but I’d never before been in such a situation. I sure didn’t want to be the dumbass photographer on the national news who had stood in the way of an oncoming horse to get that ONE SPECTACULAR PHOTO, only to have it wind up being my last. And imagine…these days someone might have thought that I was going for a selfie. How humiliating would that be!
He simultaneously blew past me and through me, dragging my soul with him. I felt physical expansion as my energy stretched down the trail. I didn’t exhale until he stopped and turned around to stare back at me. Rarely have I felt such exhilaration, especially of the spiritual, existential variety.
He passed by so close that I could have touched him with my fingertips, and there is a part of me that wishes I had stretched to feel his coat brush my skin. I felt the wind and the raw power of him hit me as he raced past. I saw his muscles ripple underneath his skin and his mane dancing in the wind.
Straight up the middle of the trail he had run, dodging hikers, many whom had not seen him coming. I had been so awestruck and breathless than I didn’t raise my camera until he was far past me. He had ripped my soul out and run off with it, awakening something in me and imprinting me to that sacred place.
I simply cannot explain the phenomena, but the last time I visited, the family came up again, and followed me. I picked up my camera gear and attempted to give them space, but when I moved to the right side of the trail, so did they. A whole line of them. If I switched sides, so did they. When I stopped, they stopped, staying within a few feet of me at all times. I imagined that I must resemble The Pied Piper.
As I continued to find myself standing within a few feet of these amazing animals, I couldn’t help but feel wonderful, but also vulnerable and small. A mere Homo sapien standing in front of a stronger, faster, more powerful animal is humbled indeed, and rightfully so. I knew if he wanted to take off and literally run through me he could. I had nowhere to go.
But I never actually felt threatened — they did not have that kind of energy about them. More than anything they seemed curious.
Eventually they passed me, and by that time had offered me many opportunities for portraits.
My camera could not do justice to the beauty of these animals. My spoken and written words are likewise insufficient.
On that day, wild horses really did drag me away — to a place I never will be able to describe.
And by the way, the gentleman and his daughter survived. :-)
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