Commitment to Kinship: Adopting a Wild Horse from BLM

Winning Trey’s auction did not feel like the end of anything. It was the moment the responsibility became real, the moment where the story stopped being something I was trying to influence from the outside and became something I had to carry with my own choices.

When I got the notice that I had won, the bigger journey began.  I called the office to confirm the next steps and arrange to have them moved from the BLM facility to a short-term, temporary home in California that had experience adopting wild horses. Since they were wild, they couldn’t be moved in the typical ways that horses travel. They needed to be moved by someone who had experience moving adopted wild horses. There aren’t many. And it required a semi-truck. Not a horse trailer. Not a small type of cattle trailer. A commercial semi-trailer for just two babies. 

As the semi-truck headed toward California, I knew it would pass through Reno, Nevada. I asked the driver to stop in my city so I could check on them. When the trailer doors opened, it was the first time I got to see them together. They were in the very back of the trailer. Divine stood in front of Trey, positioned between him and the opening. They were, of course, afraid. The last time they were in a trailer was when they were taken from their true home.

What I also witnessed was a role that Divine would play in Trey’s life. She was his protector. It was her instinct, her job, her way of communicating, “If something comes through that door, it comes through me first.” Divine was not Trey’s mother, but she was a bridge back to safety. She was the nearest version of “not alone” that he could reach. And, he was hers.

They only stayed at their first stop for a short while. We were lucky enough to have help in arranging for them to go to a university-affiliated equestrian facility. A place with a mix of structure and open spaces. A place that had other horses they could be with and where they could witness many examples of horses trusting humans. 

The facility was not built for wild horses. They had never had wild horses before nor had they interacted with them. But, the owner was willing to give it a try and embrace them wholeheartedly. The owner created a special place for Trey & Divine. They integrated “play” opportunities and put them both right next to a group of mares. In fact, they were only separated by a fence line. I couldn’t imagine a better place for them to settle in and begin to feel safe 

I was there when they were released into this new space. In fact, there was a small group of us that had been on the journey of their adoption. We watched them each leap out of the trailer; Divine, of course, was first. They huddled. They looked around. Then, they saw the mares and went directly to them. 

It’s a moment I’ll always remember. You don’t often get to have an impact like this on a being. It was beautiful to witness. In my heart, I recommitted to them: “I’ll never separate you,” I told them. “Not now. Not ever. You’ll always have each other.” That was the vow, and that vow shaped every choice that came next.

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