Joint effort by Vicki Tobin and R.T. Fitch
Twas the night before Christmas on our public land
not a Mustang was stirring, knowing what was at hand.
They huddled in fear hoping someone would care,
in hopes that the advocates soon would be there.
The foals hid in cover while Mom stood her ground
while stallions ensured Sun-J was no where around.
With Salazar lurking and Cattor so close by
the bands must stay quiet and not blink an eye.
When out on the range there arose such a clatter
the Mustangs all knew, what was the matter.
They ran to take cover, on wings they did fly
for surely they thought that they all would soon die.
The visions of millions made contractors grin
while ranchers and wranglers high-fived a big win.
More horses removed by ignoring the law
hold on to your hats and stand back in awe.
The chopper did glisten on new fallen snow
sealing the fate of the horses below.
When all of a sudden, the bands all stood still
and watched as the chopper came over the hill.
They stood in amazement, can it really be true
the advocates appeared right out of the blue.
The horses retreated; not believing their eyes
for surely this is a BLM guise.
Then leading the charge, both lively and quick
were Downer and Holland and Fitch with a stick.
More rapid than lightening, Cate was in tow
with Simone close behind, telling all where to go.
Now Ginger and Wagman and Ann times two,
Oh Debbie and Grandma and Julie it’s you.
Now Vicki and Jerry and right there is Anne
now Terry and Marjorie with their cameras in hand.
Down the hill they descended toward the horses with care
and watched as the chopper, fled into the air.
The advocates came with injunction in hand
the decree shouted out, “this is our public land”.
“Enough is enough” the judge did declare
the horses were saved by the breadth of a hair.
Our work here’s not done, the advocates did cry
the choppers still flying, more herds could be spied.
Its back to D.C. with a permanent plan
to ensure all the horses can live on their land.
So love was delivered to the horses with pride
but the warriors must leave so that no more would die.
They climbed up the hill and turned back to the band
who all now had gathered on what was their land.
“We carry you with us”, R.T. did proclaim,
“We go to the White House to show them your way.”
The horses all bowed with a sign of approval
as they all now knew that there was no removal.
They neighed and they nickered to the spirit above
Thanks for sending the people who gave us their love.