Something about the ‘black beauty’ style of mare. They like to prance, lift their head a bit higher and snort. . .just because. She is surely the one breaking through the fence at the far end of the ravine and causing my husband to add the word ‘ship’ to his recent vocabulary list.
The black mare was born in our corral here at the RedBarn. Every breath of her spirited life belongs to the elements of nature. The sky, the wind, the winding creek, the hills and the deep native grass are her world. She likes to take off running and pretend she is Flicka! I would really miss her.