This Mustang Life

05/19/2026

CALLING ALL STEVES, WE NEED YOU.

If your name is Steve, this is your moment.
If you know a Steve, tag them or share this fundraiser.
If you love a Steve, donate in their honor.
If you are not a Steve, honorary Steves are welcome.

Project Steve: 100,000 Steves for Steve & Sundae

What if 100,000 of them gave just $1 to help save two horses with extraordinary medical needs?

More info at Red Feather Equine Sanctuary!

Donation link in comments.

04/17/2026

I don’t know who this stallion is, he is with the Salt RIver herd, but I won’t forget him. The way he snaked had me completely locked in. He didn’t stay tight to the mare like you’d expect, he worked her, cutting her off through the brush, circling wide, using the land like a tool. It honestly felt like watching a cowboy push cattle, but wilder… smarter… quieter. At one point she stayed tucked in the trees and he dropped into the river alone, looped all the way around her, and somehow got her to turn direction without ever touching her.
This morning was absolute chaos. We were sitting on the river bend and couldn’t see anything, just hearing it all… galloping hooves, sharp whinnies, grunts, kicks, and dust kicking up higher than the trees. Every once in a while one would break through, dip into the river like nothing happened, look at us… and disappear right back into it. What we think happened is a mare got stolen from her band and ended up caught between a couple bachelor stallions.. and it disrupted everyone that morning.

But this moment right here is what stayed with me. He looks almost unreal, like something soft, almost glowing, but there is nothing soft about him. He was the only piece of light cutting through a dark river and heavy shadows, ears pinned, locked in, completely certain about what he was doing. Not chasing. Controlling.

There’s something enchanting about him…but if you stay too long in that feeling you realize it’s not magic.

It’s power.

04/16/2026

We wanted to go up into the hills.
Most photographs the horses in the river, but we wanted them against the ridgeline. And we wanted to see a foal. Yes… a foal. Our friend Susan told us to reach out to Kenny. Said he knew all the spots, all the horses, basically the unofficial mayor of the desert.

We pull up… and immediately I’m like… oh no. Not in a bad way. Just uh like… is my mom going to yell at me later way? Picture the chaotic love child of Danny McBride and Steve Irwin sprinting up to your car yelling “COME ON WE’RE LATE!” Shorts, with snake gaiters, cameras locked and loaded. Zero patience for us to emotionally process what’s happening.

Deb and I just sat there like…
“…is this the start of a horror film…?”
And I go, well… Susan ( )vouched for him. We all shrugged like absolute idiots and got out of the car.
And honestly… 10 out of 10 decision.
We follow him out, roll under some barbed wire, and suddenly it’s like we unlocked a secret level. Layers of mountains, clouds doing their whole dramatic thing, and then… a band.

A stallion. His right hand man. And a very obvious third wheel stallion named Poppy, who was just… trying his best. And YES. A foal. Like the universe was like fine, here you go, calm down. The sun starts dropping and everything goes quiet in that way that makes you feel like you shouldn’t even be there, but you are, and it’s perfect.

After the horses moved on, we climbed up and just sat there staring at the Four Peaks. They literally stand guard over the Salt River, like these massive sentinels that don’t care what you’re doing, but have seen all of it. You can see them from everywhere out there, just constant and steady, holding the whole landscape together. Four peaks. Balanced. Unmoving. Meanwhile we’re out here questioning if we should follow a stranger into the desert.

The contrast is… humbling.
Later that night Kenny texts me:
“I enjoy watching you guys. Seemed like you really took it in. Happy to meet people like that. Thank you.”
Kenny… we were just trying not to die and also cry at the same time. But seriously, thank you. Best questionable decision we’ve made in a while.

04/12/2026

Whelp… sad to say our whirlwind trip to the Salt River herd has come to an end. Even though it was short, it was exactly what I needed.

We slipped into quiet mornings before the forest filled with tourists and carried that same stillness into the evenings, sitting in the hills watching layers of peaks and clouds roll in. And in between were those moments that get your heart going… hearing them move through the brush before you can see them. Honestly, that might be the best part.

That feeling only builds, especially when I get to bring people out to see wild horses for the first time. Watching it hit them… the eyes lighting up, the smiles, that calm that settles in. It never gets old. It means even more when something that matters this much to me lands with someone else too.

But it wasn’t just time in the wild. We spent a day with who understands horses in a way that feels rare, and somehow translates it back to the rest of us mere mortals. I could listen to her for hours… which says a lot. Anyone who knows me, know my eyes start to glaze over after one minute :)

It brought me back to one of my favorite life moments, twelve days at her ranch learning how to gentle a wild horse with patience and compassion. That same feeling showed up again.

Then it kind of all came full circle. Sitting in her A frame house with and Beau, just talking for hours about the land, horse stories, philosophy, evolution, the ocean floor, books, human behavior… teeth. No rush, no noise, just real conversation. I remember looking around at all of them and just feeling grateful.

Thank you and Kenny for showing us the magic of this place. We really appreciate you.

I’ve been meaning to come see this herd for years, and now that I finally have, they’re facing the threat of removal. I’ll share more soon about what’s happening and how you can help.

For now… just sit with this for a minute. I hope it feels like you were right there with me.

04/11/2026

Oh, that’s how babies are made 😂

04/02/2026

After sharing the Gray Ghost video, I found myself thinking about how lucky I was just to be in his presence. So many times I sat quietly and watched him, glowing, grazing, completely ethereal. He never felt entirely real, like something borrowed from another world. He was our unicorn. And somehow, this unicorn got to live wild and free in the place he was born. That feels rare. That feels right.

I hope his son, Nichols, that beautiful boy, carries forward even a piece of him, the quiet strength, the knowing, the magic he left behind in every step… though right now Nichols is very much in his “bro phase” and not exactly channeling ancient wisdom just yet…hoping he will get there :)

Horses like Gray Ghost don’t just live on the land, they become part of it.

03/28/2026

I’ll never forget this Onaqui stallion.

The way he threaded his mares through the chaos, always just out of reach from the other stallions.

The sun dropping behind him, everything lit on fire in gold.

03/27/2026