4 May 2013; Wild Horse Country --
As we drove Northward toward our night's destination (a Motel 6 in Hot Springs), the Swede spied a sign that said "wild horses". So at her insistence Grumpy screeched the little Subaru to an "emergency stop" and detoured off the main highway to a spot where she could get her satisfaction at seeing some real, live, wild mustangs.
As an old, native South Dakotan, Grumpy was aware of the unwritten welcome that visitors have to come through a gate in a fence -- even if it is closed -- as long as you reclose it after you pass through. Also, you are welcome as long as you don't harass or otherwise disturb any animals that may be in that enclosed area. So it was that, as the Swede opened the gate, Grumpy drove through.
The photos of the mustangs that were thereby obtained from a respectful distance were reward enough to more than cancel out the angry confrontation by the [New Yorker/Do Gooder?] lady who happened by as we were exiting -- again opening the gate and reclosing it.
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