Plight of the Mustangs

Harold Roy Miller

It stretches from the Red Rock Canyon tucked way down in the south

to the northern springs in Wells, the Humboldt River’s mouth.

It encompasses the western Flowery Range draped in pinion pine

to the Great Basin National Park hunkered on the eastern Nevada line.

This is Nevada’s mustang country, a harsh, rugged territory

where wild horses and burros thrive, surrounded in old west glory.

But now politicians want em rounded up and are implementing drastic change

and “the spirit of the west” -- the mustang, is being taken off its range.

There was a time not long ago when you could drive across the land

and see wild ones grazing peacefully among the sagebrush and the sand.

We always had an excited thrill whenever a band was spotted

then a lonely feeling of wistfulness as away from danger they trotted.

Now you can drive for miles on end and not see hide nor hair

because mustang sightings from the road are starting to become rare.

It’s just empty upon empty terrain; sadly, only their trails remain

and the mustang bands’ pounding hooves are playing their last refrain.

Nevada is abundantly blessed with mountains and vast open spaces.

The desolation indicates it’s one of the last wild places.

The mustangs on the landscape are the frosting on the proverbial cake,

so these roundups must come to a stop, if only for the horses’ sake.