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Survival of the Fittest

Jim Taylor

Western Michigan University

A cold wind blew across the meadow that night.  There was the smell of snow in the air and the sting of ice in the blowing wind.  The small herd of horses was nervous as they huddled together for warmth.  Spring snowstorms could be deadly out on the plains.  The horses had suffered through a really rough winter and now the weather was supposed to be getting better for them, not worse.

The small chestnut mare squealed again in pain and other mares knew it was time for her to deliver her foal.  This kind of weather could be disastrous for a herd.  Many times a foal born in this kind of storm didn’t make it through the night.  The bitter cold wind could suck the breath right out of their tiny new lungs.   If the freezing winds and icy rains lasted too long, it could wipe out an entire generation of stock from the struggling herds. Their dainty new born bodies just couldn’t generate enough heat to keep them from freezing right to the ground they tried to sleep on.   It was also just as hard on the mare giving birth too.  Sometimes both mare and foal would be lost to the curse of the winter that wouldn’t let go.

The large silver Stallion paced across the bluff of a hill, searching for a safer place for his herd.  He knew it was time for the spring foals to start dropping and he wanted to find some protection and a warmer place to help them get their start in a difficult life to say the least.  Instinct told him that a safer place was ahead of them but too many years and poor vision in one eye made it harder for him to find it.  This was the little chestnut”s first time at giving birth and things could happen sometimes that an experienced mare would be able to handle.  He needed to find shelter and he needed to find it quickly.

A streak of lightning lit up the large black clouds and the Stallion  thought he saw a stand of thick pines on the other side of the small valley they had entered.  Normally it would be a short gallop but with the snow banks that still existed and frozen pools of water scattered about they would have to go carefully.  It would take some time to navigate this challenge and reach the shelter of the trees.

Trumpeting out his command to move, the jittery mares fell into their places in the herd and began to follow him across the freezing meadow.  They tried to move quickly but every shadow could mean danger and each obstacle had to be skirted around.  The going would be tedious and tense for all the horses and especially for one that was in the final stages of labor.

The young mare had to stop every time a contraction pulled at her swollen belly.  The other mares nipped at her to keep her moving but slowly they pulled farther and farther away from her.  She did her best to keep up but she was soon left behind by the other horses.

Now, you may wonder what I was doing out there on a night like this in the first place.  I had been given a grant to study the horses and I had been following this particular band for the last year or so.  I had witnessed the Stallion fight off a mountain lion to protect his herd and saw the angry slash across his face that affected the vision in his right eye.  I wondered how long he would be able to hang onto his ladies before another stallion came along and took them from him.  In nature it was always survival of the fittest.

My campsite was in an old cave not too far away from this valley.  It was a good observation post and I could keep an eye of the three herds that ranged across this area.  I had collected some great data on the horses and I had kind of grown attached to this particular herd.  The cave was high enough on the hillside that the smell of my campfire didn’t seem to bother the horses and you had to be almost right on top of it before you could even see the light from flames.  I had been watching this herd closely the last few weeks and I had also suspected the small chestnut would deliver soon.

I heard the horses as they passed by not to far from where I sat huddled under an old canvas tarp trying to keep myself out of the elements as much as possible.  I would have liked to have gotten a closer look but the heavy black clouds blocked most of the light that the moon was offering that night.  They came within 20 yards of me and then quickly veered off.  I figured the tarp must have flapped in the wind and spooked them.  It might also have been the smell of the smoke from my fire which was about a hundred behind me.  When the clouds hung that low, it was hard for the smoke to go any where but out and spread across the land.  I heard my own horse whinny out to them, safe and warm inside the cave.  She had been taken from a herd much like this one about ten years ago.

It was quite some time later when I finally thought I had heard a strange noise.  I was finishing up my daily notes and letting my fire die down for the evening before turning in to sleep.  I thought I had heard a grunt or a groan coming from not too far outside the mouth of my cave.  I grabbed my rifle thinking mountain lion and then picking up my lantern I ventured out to investigate.  The snow had started falling and it was mixed with sleet and rain and I guess just about anything else Mother Nature could think of to throw in with it.  I didn’t see anything and I was just about to turn and head back to the warmth of my cave when I heard that same sound again.  The Chestnut is in trouble I thought and doubled my efforts as I began to search again.

I almost missed her the second time too.  She was lying under the lip of a snow drift eaten away by the sun the day before and frozen again by the rain and wind of this freak storm.  At least the wind couldn’t reach her there but the rain and snow and freezing sleet was pounding down and her heavy coat was already matted with ice crystals and snow.  Her mane and tail covered with the shiny crystals were beginning to freeze to the ground she was laying on.  She was in hard labor.  I had to get her out of this weather.  The question was how was I going to get her into a cave that smelled of fire and of humans?

Now, these horses had seen me a number of times riding on my own horse but I had never actually gotten this close to any of them before this.  I also knew that this was a wild animal and in labor but still completely unpredictable.  I took a deep breath and began to approach her.  I came at her from the front so she could see me the whole time.  Her eyes were wild with fear and pain but she didn’t object to my being there.  I got close enough to her to see her breath in the light from my lantern.  It was forced and hard for her.  She was in really rough shape.  I decided to try and get her on her feet.  Maybe if she could walk slowly, I could coax her into the cave and at least she would be out of the storm.

As I tried to touch her, she pulled her head away and bared her teeth.  Large hunks of her tangled mane pulled from her neck, still frozen to the ground she was laying on.  She was in worse shape than I thought here.  The temperature was dropping quickly and it wouldn’t be long before both of them would be lost to the elements.  Of course these things happened all the time in nature and maybe that it was meant to be this way but I just couldn’t stand there and watch her and her unborn foal freeze to death.  I had to try to do something here.  To Hell with survival of the fittest.

I stumbled back to my cave and got a length of rope.  If I could possibly get the rope around her neck, I might be able to pull her to her feet.  As a second thought I brought my own horse along to reassure her that it was okay.  Sometimes just the site and smell of a like animal were enough to get them past the danger they were in.  I threw a couple of logs back on the fire as we left the dry warm cavern.  I had left my lantern standing by the mare so I could find my way back to her.  

When we got back to her, part of the battle was over for us.  The mare was on her feet but it wouldn’t take long and she would freeze standing where she was.  She was soaked completely through and probably in the early stages of hypothermia, if animals suffered from that sort of thing.  Well, I guess some sort of natural instinct kicked in because when my horse saw her, she gently walked up and nuzzled the little soon to be mother.  Whatever the reason the mare started to follow my mare as we headed back toward our camp.  Maybe the little chestnut didn’t care by this point but I was actually able to reach my hand underneath the neck of my own horse and put my hand under the lower jaw of the mustang.  In a true natural situation this feat would have been incredible but I wasn’t thinking that, I just wanted to get all of us out of this weather and into the shelter of my cave.

Now the fire was something I hadn’t counted on.  We were about twenty feet from the mouth of the cave when the chestnut started to squeal and stamp her feet.  I thought at first she was just trying to shake some of the ice off her coat.  The ice had built up pretty thickly on all of us at this point but she was not going to move one more step.  We were so close I thought, don’t give up now.  Finally I realized it was the smell of the smoke that frightened her.  I was not about to put the fire out now as I needed the warmth as much as both of the horses did.

I tried to grab a handful of the mane to pull her forward but my fingers were so numb I could barely make a fist.  If I hadn’t been there to see what was about to happen next I never would have believed it, no matter who was telling the story of this kind of experience.

My own horse was still between us and I still had my hand across the front of her chest holding the head of the chestnut.  My mare pushed forward against my arm causing my arm to drop and back down to my side.  She then turned to look at me and then turned the other way to look at the chestnut.  She nickered softly and began to walk forward slowly, the chestnut following right at her side.  My mare kept herself between the fire and the wild mustang until they reached the safety of the warm cave.  I stood there amazed until I realized I was going to freeze myself if I didn’t get out of the weather.  The little Chestnut, completely done in laid down in the soft meadow grass I had spread out for horse bedding two days earlier.

She didn’t get to relax too long though.  I couldn’t believe I was going to see a wild mustang give birth.  It was about an hour later that she delivered the cutest little colt I had ever laid my eyes on.  He was a beautiful palomino color and it didn’t take him long to stand up on his wobbly legs to nurse from his bedraggled dam.  I had been around horses all my life and I had been studying wild mustangs for the last two years but I had never seen such a beautiful golden color as this little guy was.  It was almost breathtaking.

They stayed with us the whole night and the next day too.  The weather was ugly and we were pretty much confined to the cave most of the time.  She ate the hay I set down for her but there was no way she was going to let me get close enough to touch her.  Her little guy was a totally different story however.  He seemed to think I was part of his family and he accepted my presence and fondling without too much difficulty.

The snow turned to rain by that next afternoon and the second day it finally cleared up completely.  It was late in the afternoon when the sun finally came out and Chestnut finally decided it was time for her now two day old son to meet the rest of her herd.  She slowly walked past the fire pit and by the time she reached the mouth of the cave she was at a full gallop, her little colt keeping right up with her.  When she reached the knoll of a hill about a hundred yards or so in front of my cave she turned and looked back, kicked up her heels and then disappeared.

That was about six years ago.  I finished my study and received a pretty good grant to complete my studies and earn my masters in wildlife conservation, specializing in wild mustangs.  But even better than that, I was able to get the government to make a sanctuary of the valley and all the plain’s area that surrounded that meadow.  I still like to ride out and watch the herds of horses whenever I can.  This herd has gotten bigger since then and the new Stallion that runs the show is very proud and protective of his mares and his offspring.  He tolerates my presence as I ride across the bluff that overlooks his valley.  Usually I can find standing on top of a knoll watching his herd and me, the sunlight reflecting from his beautiful golden coat.

Prompt One vs. Prompt Two

Open Bracket Final

Summer Storms

Amanda Cornwell

All the “togetherness” of her welcome home picnic was beginning to take its toll.  She had to get out of the house for a while.  It’s strange how foreign home felt after just one year away at school.  Luckily, a cold front was moving in, blowing in the makings of a terrific summer storm.  At least there was something familiar to enjoy.

In the quietness of the evening she detected the faint buzz of a missed call.  Kara she thought, as she slid her cell from the large pockets of her favorite sweater, an article that provided little warmth with its large loose stitches.  Like her roommate, this simple gray cardigan had seen her through frat parties and finals, both of which seemed better than what she suspected would happen soon.

“Ten missed calls?  Seriously, Kar!” she muttered in mock exasperation.  Truth be told, she was thrilled to have found a friend who actually seemed to care about her.

“You’re having that much fun at home too?” she opened as Kara answered after the first half-ring.  “It was pretty loud inside, so I didn’t hear my phone.  I told you I’d call if anything happened,” she confessed.  “No, don’t worry about it.  I’d rather talk to you anyway.  Is it really different for you at home now too?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t alone in feeling so out-of-place.

Just when she’d settled into the conversation and begun to feel the return of her new normalcy, the sudden slam of a car door punctuated the hazy flash that illuminated the sky.  “Mm hmm,” said the dark-haired driver, exiting the vehicle and shouldering his phone awkwardly.  In the time it took him to walk from his car to the porch, she gathered that his I-need-a-dose-of-encouragement phone call to Caleb would have been perfectly timed had she been inside like he imagined she would’ve been.

Sitting up a bit straighter on the porch swing, she whispered, “Kar, yeah, Kar, I’ve gotta go.  Don’t worry about it, everything’s fine,” she said ending the call without waiting for a good-bye, as their eyes met.

“Hey, nice night for a storm, huh?” he offered lamely, having ended his call just as abruptly.  He moved closer to her, fists jammed into his pockets though his taut shoulders alerted her to his feigned nonchalance.

“Sure is,” she said, “my favorite kind of summer night.”  Looking out at the treeline she was momentarily transported to happier times.  “Remember last year when –” she began, but stopped suddenly, as though she hadn’t realized her thoughts were being shared aloud.  She’d quickly forgotten her resolution to be strong, a part of her still wishing he would walk up behind her, lace his arms around her waist and invite her to lean against him, the way he used to.

Exhaling loudly he began.  “Listen.  I need to talk to you about something.”

“Wait,” she whispered.  “Don’t ruin this.  Not yet.  There’s a storm coming, and I want to watch it without having to think about what you are going to tell me.”  She was surprised by the confidence in her decision to be so forward with him.  He too was caught off guard by her request, but sat silently.

Fireflies blinked in the yard and a melancholy grin danced briefly across her fine features, recalling the simplicity of childhood.  Those days when sitting on this porch meant ice cream and lemonade followed by hours of exploring.  Back then being friends with a boy meant having someone strong enough to haul the requisite fort-building supplies and didn’t leave her heart aching.

She felt him watching her, hating how comfortable she was with him, even now.  Standing, she padded toward the far rail pulling her sweater closed, arms folded tightly in front of her.  The coolness of the wood under her bare feet was comforting and kept her from drifting back into another daydream.

“I don’t blame you.”  Her words shattered the silence.  “I wouldn’t be able to stay with me either.”  After several failed attempts to keep her chestnut hair behind her ears, she surrendered to the increased intensity of the wind.

“You don’t understand—”

“Stop.  Don’t ruin it with excuses,” she said again, startled and somewhat empowered by the strength of her own voice, though fearful that the drumming of her heart might betray her indifference.

“But I don’t want it to—” he rose to come closer but stopped when she turned to face him.

“What?  You don’t want it to end this way?”

“Yes.  I mean, no.  You know what I’m trying to say.  Don’t you?” he asked, his dark eyes pleading.

“You’re trying to say good-bye,” her voice remained calm and even.  She turned to look out once again at the landscape of her adolescence.  “I still love you,” she felt a cool splash between her toes.  “You’re saying we can at least stay friends.”  As the icy rain mingled with hot tears, she knew without looking back that she’d given him what he wanted.

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Open Bracket Final.

"Summer Storms" by Cornwell [59.4%]

"Survival of the Fittest" by Taylor [40.6%]