For weeks they had been ghosts, last seen up close at the end of June.

And then no one could find them. For weeks we had driven all the roads, up and down the sketchy trails, over wash outs designed to make the faint of heart head back to town. All to no avail. We saw no horses and no fresh sign. Messages flew between friends. “Have you been on the range? Did you find them?” It was becoming a concern. Never had they been gone so long. Where were our mustangs?

In July, in the distance, we saw two bachelor stallions.

They were alone, probably driven away from the herd by the band stallion. They kept their distance and were guarded and skittish. With a long lens we at least managed a photo or two.

After that we were skunked again and again. “Nowhere, nothing” over and over again. Not a bird, not a chipmunk, nothing.

Once we saw a bunny on the road on our way home. Absolutely horrible photo but sometimes ya gotta take what you can get because how can you go home with an empty data card?

Another time, maybe in August, we glimpsed a small herd on the top of a ridge so deep in the back country that even with binoculars it was hard to distinguish which band we were seeing. We blinked and they were gone. That time not even a photo.

Rain doesn’t fall in Idaho from mid-June until the autumn storms, which usually start in October. That means September on the range is dry and dusty. It is also the start of hunting season. Hunting season means mustangs hide.

But we had to try again.

We headed up towards the water troughs. Seeing no fresh sign our hopes were fading fast. Not one new stud pile, no fresh tracks. The evening sun was dipping lower in the sky and our time was getting short. But we trekked on.

As we pulled around the last bend we could see the troughs, sitting there all alone, not a single sign of life to be had. We sat there for a moment, disappointed yet again. Putting the jeep in gear I started to turn around when Jamie, always the excellent spotter, shouted “Wait! Stop!” Knowing her, she had seen a single ear popping over the hill. We stopped.

We waited. Suddenly Bear, the big pinto stallion, drove his band into water. Leading the group was the beautiful palomino mare, Starship Moonshine. It was a thrilling moment. After months they were here. Little did we know it was only going to be for maybe 10 minutes. But it was a glorious 10 minutes! Things were about to get so much better.

The dirt around the troughs was like baby power. As the herd moved in, they stirred up the dust in great clouds. It hung in the air like a gossamer curtain.

The sun was sinking low behind them. The dust was catching their shadows and starting to hide them from view.

Then, as quick as they had arrived, they were gone. After months had we really found them?



Or were they simply ghosts, nothing more than shadows in the dust.

During the night this glorious, dominant lion had been doing what males do. He traveled miles patrolling the edges of his territory, marking the boundaries along the way as a strong, and severe warning for other nearby males. After a long night’s patrol, he returned to the pride before dawn. Once he was back the lionesses did what lionesses do and left on the morning hunt.

By the time we came upon the pride the sun was climbing in the sky, but the lionesses had not returned. It was clear they had not been successful and were still on the hunt. Like any father who works the night shift, Dad was tired and wanted to sleep. Unfortunately for him there were a bunch of very active and hungry cubs running interference between him and nap time. The cubs were from different litters and split between two age groups, each with its own challenges for their beleaguered father.

First up to irritate Dad were the playful younger group who wanted to wrestle and tumble.

But siblings get boring after a while and what boy doesn’t want to play with his daddy? So, this little guy did just that, and dug his claws right into Dad’s behind.

It did not go well and was a lesson quickly learned.

After putting the youngsters in their place, Dad moved on, only to face the grumpy, sassy teenagers.



Their primary focus seemed to be doing whatever they wanted and backtalking Dad when he told them to knock it off.

Eventually he lost all tolerance with the cubs and the lionesses, stalked off to the other side of the road, settled in and voiced his displeasure in loud, guttural calls for those women to get back to the pride and take care of these damn kids.

I’m not sure the girls ever came home. I would like to think they were headed to the spa with a bottle of wine while stating unequivocally that it was his turn with the kids and he needed to step up his game.