There is something magical about seeing the wind rush through the long, sometimes tangled mane of a wild horse or hearing the hoof beats as they thunder across the lands, seeing their tenderness with new born colt or the aggressive behavior of a herd stallion guarding his herd. There is also something sad about seeing such a majestic animal in the wild knowing that they live under the harshest of circumstances, that they must learn to run on uneven ground where the danger of a burrow or rock to trip over waits, or forage through deep snow as exposed ribs attest. There is nothing romantic about being a wild horse but there is romanticism in seeing this animal in the wild, running free.
This is Dreamscape Meadows
"As long as wild horses are galloping free, I'll dream of the west as it was meant to be"