Des and Max of the Wild Things
by Annie McKillop

From the age of six, I have always whispered to horses, but when I adopted Des, in 2003, he was the only horse who whispered back. I had the discipline that comes with hours of riding and cleaning in preparation for big shows. I had gone through all the motions, but one day I literally looked off the highway to a mountain covered in six foot drifts of snow, and thought, "There's wild horses living over there." I forgot about where I was headed in life and in horses, and decided to find out about these survivors of history.

I researched wild horses that lived on that exact mountain during Christmas vacation, and in January, I adopted my first wild horse, Destino. The BLM employees helped me pick out Des, and even helped move him to his new home. From there I was rewarded with not only a fantastic life experience, but also an astounding friendship.

The owner of our first boarding facility told me that when I was 5 minutes from the ranch Des would start whinnying and running around in his paddock. Like clockwork, he knew my car would be coming over the horizon. When we first headed down the dirt path to the foothills, he would spook and gallop, but in time he was in my pocket on the trail and at anyplace I decided to trailer him.

Folks who have trained horses for decades would look at Des suspiciously, at first, but within a month, they'd be telling me stories about how smart, caring, and warm he was to work around. The one exception was the farrier. Des had been mishandled during his first trim, and to this day he will jump up and down, call, and even occasionally kick the wall when the farrier trims my other horses. He wants us all to know he won't tolerate anybody mean around his herd.

While Des follows me like a child, he also takes it upon himself to protect me from strangers. That's not typical of a domestic horse. One day I was talking with a contractor about safety out in the country. I had a giant black shepherd foster dog (from the humane society) in my yard. The contractor motioned that way and said, "I bet you feel safe with him around." I said, "Oh NO! If I were ever in trouble out here, I'd jump in the paddock with Des. Nobody would dare go in there with Des watching over me." He said, "But he's just a horse," and I responded, "No he's my wild horse!" I wish Des could read this, but then he probably already could guess what I think of him.