I have enjoyed (for the most part) hosting a little Facebook page called Cherry Creek Babbler. It was never intended to be a serious or intense publication, but simply a place for local people to connect with one another (if they so choose), and to share our experiences of this unique lifestyle that is sometimes referred to locally as "Creeker". As it turns out, most of the people who live here aren't particularly interested in much of anything I have to say - which is alright with me. I'm a Creeker, too.
Before the page had been up for very long, I noticed that most of the people that 'Like' the page are those with some kind of former connection to the PLACE, and to the culture that used to exist here. They have a nostalgic feeling for the PLACE it used to be.
As editor of the page, I do try to keep a neutral atmosphere, free from political rantings, and so far, most of our visitors have respected this attitude. We don't have bickering -- not because everyone here likes or even respects one another, but (so far) everyone has been quite appreciative of the neutral nature of discourse here.
Until today.
Many (not ALL) town residents enjoy the existence of wild horses on our steppes. For years and years, one small band has inhabited the narrow swatch of brushy foothills and desert scrub along Currie Road.
In 2011, many of us were very saddened to learn that the little band of sorrels - along with several other small bands of mustangs - were slated for removal. We figured it was inevitable, and managed to find acceptance.
Then -- by some miracle of fate (call it Divine Intervention, if you like) -- the little band of sorrels somehow ESCAPED capture by hiding in the trees. By holding steadfast among the junipers, while every other horse on the hill was brutally rounded up and hauled away to an unknown destiny. There was something magnificent in the brilliant way they had clung to their homeland.
Now, it must be understood that the wild horses of eastern Nevada are not anything like the "park models" found elsewhere. (Don't jump on me. It's an observation, not a negative judgment.)
Horses here are WILD in every sense of the word. The sorrels are used to passers by stopping to take photos, but if you take one step beyond the established buffer zone, they are GONE, Baby. Gone! Better bring a zoom lens.
These horses do not have names, or Facebook pages, or fan clubs. There is no advocacy group dedicated to their maintenance on the range. We just enjoy seeing them; seeing the new foals that typically arrive in March, watching the young stallions as they find new buddies to hang with (their biological brethren, all), when they come of age and are driven from the tribe.
So, when it came to pass that the BLM once again returned to the narrow stretch of brush and halogetin on the eastern slope of the Cherry Creek range, and we learned that our neighbors had been captured this time, and that none of them would be seen ever again on that tough and unforgiving piece of real estate they had called home, many of us were moved to a feeling of great sadness. An emptiness and a longing for something that is gone forever from our lives.
I posted a photo of the trap containing our captive friends on the Cherry Creek Babbler. The reaction by regular followers of the page were sad emojis, a few comments expressing sorrow for the loss to our community.
And THEN. (I suppose it was inevitable); someone I have never heard of; who has never liked the page, or commented on a single entry before, made a vicious statement regarding the wild horses that (some of us) considered an asset to our surroundings. And then another person, whose name I recognize as a local ranch wife - who, again, has never liked the page, or commented on ANY entry before -- made a similar statement.
I didn't really know how to respond to this sudden vehemence in a situation where that has been such a rare occurrence. I temporarily 'unpublished' the page, because I do not want to get caught up in a battle of words over deep-seated convictions on both sides of this matter.
This has been a mere reminder of the great hostility that exists in this place where I live, toward anyone with a mindset that does not embrace the destruction of living creatures.
I am saddened by the loss of our beautiful town herd. I am mildly disappointed (not the least bit surprised) by the knowledge that I will always be a stranger here -- despite deep family roots in these mountains, and the fact that I was born and raised here, among these hard and heartless people.
I think what pains me most, is the abject lack of compassion for the feelings of us -- human beings - who have been moved by the presence of another species, and who feel that loss. I don't ask you to understand it ... or embrace it .... or share it. But how about just a modicum of respect for something that is REAL - whether you like it, or you don't.
Go ahead and do your victory dance. Only, kindly PLEASE, do it SOMEWHERE ELSE.
Go ahead and do your victory dance. Only, kindly PLEASE, do it SOMEWHERE ELSE.
