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Dorothee

Dorothee
Germany

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| 03:30 AM Sep 07 2011

Dorothee

Germany

Donkeys and horses are so closely related to each other that they even can get foals together. These descendants are called “mules”. (
Anyway this also explains why I decided to spare some space again and posted this information about a critically endangered wild horse here: “http://www.sandiegozoo.org/animalbytes/t-przewalski_horse.html” and “http://www.worldwildlife.org/ogc/species_SKU.cfm?gid=80” both are websites of organisations that try to preserve the last remaining real wild horse.
P.S. Once a friend of mine who loves wild horses didn’t believe me when I told her that these Przewalski’s horses really are horses and not just some odd-toed ungulate that are so close related to horses that once they were falsely considered as horses. She thought that scientists who lived some centuries ago didn’t have the scientific methods people living today have and thus their theory considering them as wild horses was wrong, but back then so popular that even today people still believe in it although it’s false. However I could convince her of the fact that these really are the wild horses modern scientists consider to be the descendants of our tame horses.

| 04:17 AM Aug 19 2011

Dorothee

Germany

I wrote this story a long time ago, so this of course isn’t one of my best stories, but still: I didn’t want to abandon it. Sorry!

| 12:37 AM Aug 19 2011

Dorothee

Germany

This is a “Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron”-fanfiction that may be inspired by several other fanfictions and other stories I read: It was almost ten years after he had let Spirit and Little Creek go, when te Colonel-meanwhile in his early fifties-sat alone at his table, reading his old diaries of that time again and again. “Those were the days” he thought “when we conquered one patch of land by one, when we had to deal with wild horses nearly every week and…above all…when I wasn’t too old yet to do this job. Man I miss this horse! I wonder what it’s doing.”
Several kilometres away the herd of Cimarron was relaxing in the tall grass. Everyone except for one young mare named Chantal. Her red brown mane was waving in the wind and her coat shimmering in the sun as she galloped towards a huge hill. She had just heard a strange sound on its other side and she was curious-maybe too curious. On the top of the hill she tasked her eyes to see a little farer. There it was again! It sounded like a very strange bird, but then again it rather sounded like something that wasn’t natural. “I guess daddy won’t mind if I just take a little walk to the source of this noice” and with that she ran away, before anybody could see her.
She didn’t even make it to her aim, because almost there she got attacked by a huge dog. Normally she would have run early enough or less likely she would have started a fight, but since she was too fixed on the source of the noise, she didn’t realize the animal running right towards her foreleg, till it was too late. A man came to drag the vicious animal away, but the damage already was done: She tried to run away from the two-legged creature she had never seen before, but the pain prevented her from going on. The man said something to her and allthough Chantal didn’t understand a word, the words sounded calming and she imediately felt less nervous…till the man tried to lay something around her neck. That was a creepy feeling and she tried to shrug the rope of, but when it didn’t work, she tried to bite the man so that he would let go of the rope. Of course she failed, because firstly the man was fast enough to avoid every attack of her and secondly: Even if this had worked, she would have been to wounded to run away.
Her capturer however had other plans with her: He wouldn’t have enough time to take care of a wounded horse, but at least he knew a former colonel who-due to his working experience-would know what to do with this wild horse.
Back at the herd Spirit already has realized the absence of his and Rain’s only daughter. Her tracks still were visible and he promised Rain to search for her and not to come back without knowing what had happened to her.
The colonel took a look at the wounded horse’s leg. Okay, it wasn’t cureless, but still this young horse (she couldn’t have been older than three years) would have to take a rest in a stall for at least the next two weeks and of course her wounded leg needed good care now. He still had these things at home, because allthough he was into retirement, he still had kept the horse he had just all those years as a colonel. “But what use does this wild horse-and it’s obvious that it is a wild mustang-have for me? I’m already too old to tame it. Nor can I sell it, because firstly wild horses are very cheap and secondly this wound soon would be replaced by an ugly scar and who could want a horse like that?!” He finally decided to take care of this animal. It was beautiful and he felt sorry for the mare, seeing her suffering like that. Apart from that he needed a new activity to replace his former job.
Allthough her new owner made a less friendly impression than the man she had met before, Chantal thought him to be trustworthy. “Apart from that I don’t have the choice!” she thought with a sigh as she followed him into something wooden of which she would later find out that people call this a stall, but at that moment it was just a strange place that wouldn’t give her the chance of escaping any danger. The colonel had a very hard time to get her in it, but it was finally done and he could give her food (Chantal needed some time to realize that this was something to eat, since she had never seen something similar before) and water. Now he could take care of the horse’s wounded leg. As he had thought the wild horse didn’t like anybody to touch her leg. Eventually he took some ropes to tie her feet to some poles in the corners of the stable. Still the horse snorted and neighed angrily, but he just ignored it. “It obviously” isn’t as smart as the stallion that maybe is his father” he thought “He already would have tried to bite me. Well, I don’t mind that this one doesn’t!”
The next week, when the wound was nearly completely scarred, the colonel brought the mare to the paddock, where his own brown horse just was grassing. At first he had hesitated, but then again Rusty already was too old to get children, so there weren’t many things to worry about. He watched them for a while: After a short introduction (the two animals were sniffing at each other) they already started to grass side by side-allthough the mare always kept a certain distance. He thought that maybe he could leave the mare outside this night. The fresh air would help her recovering!
That night Chantal heard a strange sound coming from a forest that was close to her paddock. Of course her old companion already was asleep and so she had to find the source of this noise on her own. She stood at the fence and waited,-there wasn’t more she could do-but what she saw then was more than she had expected. As the horse came closer, she already smelled it, before she could even see it clearer. “Father!” she neighed. Now the wild horse ran the last miles to the paddock and they were greeting each other, while the colonel’s horse-meanwhile awoken-stood quietly in a corner, just watching them. Her father tried to convince her that she should try to escape. He talked about how dangerous and mean these people can be, but Chantal just couldn’t understand. She told him about how nice everyone has been to her and that she couldn’t see, why she should try to plan a dangerous escape just not to be someone’s pet. Spirit wanted to tell her about his own experience with the white people, he had never told her before, but suddenly the landlord came. He had heard the horse’s neighing and since he thought that maybe a predator was trying to attack his pets, he had brought his pistol to as a protection from any dangerous animal. Spirit immediately thought it to be wiser to escape and the only thing the colonel saw was a huge, brown animal running into the forest.
…The following days Chantal reconsidered the events of that night again and again. She should be afraid? From what? Life here was far more exciting than in the highlands and here too everyone was nice. Of course the old Rusty sure wasn’t her dream-stallion, but who said that she would have found a nice stallion in the wild? Anyway she enjoyed life here till one special morning…
The colonel had just cleaned her, when suddenly a strong wind overthrew the lamp the man needed to see clearer in the half-dark stable. The dry straw caught fire immediately and soon they were caught into a huge, burning ring. “What to do now?” the colonel thaught. Rusty already was outside and a normal human being couldn’t jump over this barricade. “But the horse hasn’t been trained yet to carry a man!” he told himself. Still there was no choice! The two of them would get burned alive if he didn’t take the risk. He untied Chantal and already while jumping on her back he pushed her with his legs. Strangely she obeyed as if she understood how important this was and she even jumped over the fire before galloping a few miles away from the stall, obviously nor minding the rider on her back.
Now the colonel knew what he would do with this mustang: He would keep it and train it from now on. He swore to himself he’d never sell Chantal and of course he kept this promise. The next time Spirit returned he just had to accept that his daughter was happy where she was and he promised that betimes he would come along with Rain to visit their daughter at night.

| 08:14 AM May 01 2010

Dorothee

Germany

They are so beautiful-in my opinion much more beautiful than their domesticated relatives-so it’s such a shame that they are critically endangered. Here you’ll find out how to help:”http://www.arkive.org/get-involved.html”.

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