A Day Late…

I had played our arrival over and over in my head like a favorite movie. First, we would drive around the corner on Rte 611 and catch that first glimpse of the bridge which connects Assateague to the mainland. We would drive past the Visitor’s Center and the State Park Boat launch, up and over the very steep Verrazano Bridge to be greeted by several horses grazing along side the road or on the nearby marsh leading into the National Seashore. My little filly, Miss Mackie, now 2 ½ years old and no longer little, would be there in all her tri color beauty accompanied by her natal herd. However, in my minds eye, I hadn’t counted on the miserable conditions, gale force winds and driving rain, which was the only thing greeting us as we approached the island. Day dreams aside, we didn’t see a single one of the 110 horses that call Maryland home for more than two days.

The weather continued to be most discouraging. Out on the bay, the white caps had white caps and over in the Oceanside Campground, the sand was constantly relocating itself. We’ve used our pickup truck to do patrols even though we’ve been provided with a fairly new golf cart that just sits behind the camper. The rangers even brought us a brand new “rain coat” for it however it’s been way to miserable to try the installation.

Finally, after four days, we noticed horses slowly grazing their way towards us. We have learned from past experience how the dynamics of each band and the territory they claim are in constant flux. Last year, the resident band of horses in Bayside Campground numbered five, four mares and one stallion named Corky, all of them chestnut in color. It was a bit boring although it did create somewhat of a challenge for me to try to distinguish the differences of each mare. This year, the resident band consists of a dark bay stallion  officially known as Delegate‘s Pride but everyone calls Chip, a pinto mare I recognize from last year’s band near the bridge and one of the chestnut mares from Corky’s band.

Then one morning, Corky and two of the chestnut mares casually strolled onto the grassy area from the nearby marsh. I could tell by the way he was acting, there would be trouble. He checked each pile of manure, called bulletin boards, for evidence of what mare might be coming into season and also the health of any stallions in the area. I noticed the  bay stallion making his way towards the interlopers. Ears flattened, teeth bared and more than a few squeals were heard. Then the hooves flew. There was a series of vicious kicks after which the bay chased the chestnut out of the area. The mares kept their distance, at first, but eventually drifted off in search of tender morsels. Several minutes passed before the chestnut came back into view chasing the bay before him. These exchanges continued over the next couple of days with no clear victor. That is until yesterday.

Sometime in the night, the bay stallion, Chip, convinced one of the chestnut mares to follow him. Corky has continued to press for an advantage but hasn’t gained any ground.