THE LEGENDARY HORSES OF SABLE ISLAND
By: Jackie Ladouceur, Canada
Sable Island, the Crone and sacred keeper of wild and legendary horses that live within the perils of the sea. Three hundred kilometers across the Atlantic off the coast of Halifax, Nova Scotia she rests as a tiny crescent-shaped island of sand that, unimaginably, has held the history of her elusive wild horses, and their ancestors, for more than three hundred years. Taking flight to such a place holds the resonance of time travel, magically taking you back to long-forgotten aspects of yourself. She feels like a familiar memory yet never meant to be named or claimed. She ensures that you never fully touch her and, like her legendary horses, always remains wild, elusive, and free. As time goes by, the details may fade, but the most memorable imprints in the sands of your time can never be erased by the sea’s torrent winds of change.
Standing in the rainy, cool mist on the shores of Sable Island, the winds are hostile and fine grains of sand and hair are stinging my face. Far off in the distance, there is a mysterious dark presence that is seemingly emerging from the emerald, green and blue sea. What it is, is still not known. It moves closer and grows. We patiently wait for it to reveal itself. All human inhabitants on the island are accounted for, so one only knows and anticipates that this must be our first wild horse. I begin to see his outline as his black mane elegantly flows in the direction from which he came, and suddenly my awareness shifts to the increased sensations and pounding of my own beating heart. As my awareness expands, so too do the beats and they seemingly begin to synchronize with each rhythmical fall of his shuffling footsteps in the sand.
This stallion is thin, ratty, and worn. The contrast of his shedding coat reveals new life and his resiliency for survival. A true warrior of the sea, he is old, and wise. The evidence of many changing seasons and the length of his time is eloquently woven in his tightly twisted, and sun-bleached dreadlocks that hang as part of his mane. On the bridge of his nose is a thick strip of silky long brown hair that separates the sleek, silvery highlights of his emerging new coat. His facial features are well-defined, his eyes are still sharp, and the shape of his nostrils speaks of his masculinity, wisdom, and strength. Yet his silent passing and impartialness to humans speaks of his falling status within the hierarchy of larger herds. His footsteps are peaceful and are gently erased by the wind, leaving no trace that he would have ever really walked here at all. I begin to wonder if I am in a dream.
The wind remains bitter but sweet, and the sand is deep. Where the sparse vegetation grows, evidence of wild horses becomes much more prevalent. The areas are laden with an abundance of white feathers, and traces of sequential hoofprints remain outlined in the sand. Perspective speaks when climbing to higher elevations of terrain, and instantly, I become very present with the reality of where I am. A part of me feels safe and at home, yet my fear and vulnerability in feeling so incredibly small decide to take the seat next to me. I cannot see the end of the vastness of the ocean as it flows on each side of me. It is expansive, and one can see that this narrow strip of sand is a breakpoint for the virulent nature of the sea. As she continues to blow gusts of wind, the waves can be heard as they crash against this island of sand that barely sits beneath me, and the color of the sea is a glorious gem that produces a magnificent contrast of both beauty and rage.
This stallion is thin, ratty, and worn. The contrast of his shedding coat reveals new life and his resiliency for survival. A true warrior of the sea, he is old, and wise. The evidence of many changing seasons and the length of his time is eloquently woven in his tightly twisted, and sun-bleached dreadlocks that hang as part of his mane. On the bridge of his nose is a thick strip of silky long brown hair that separates the sleek, silvery highlights of his emerging new coat. His facial features are well-defined, his eyes are still sharp, and the shape of his nostrils speaks of his masculinity, wisdom, and strength. Yet his silent passing and impartialness to humans speaks of his falling status within the hierarchy of larger herds. His footsteps are peaceful and are gently erased by the wind, leaving no trace that he would have ever really walked here at all. I begin to wonder if I am in a dream.
The wind remains bitter but sweet, and the sand is deep. Where the sparse vegetation grows, evidence of wild horses becomes much more prevalent. The areas are laden with an abundance of white feathers, and traces of sequential hoofprints remain outlined in the sand. Perspective speaks when climbing to higher elevations of terrain, and instantly, I become very present with the reality of where I am. A part of me feels safe and at home, yet my fear and vulnerability in feeling so incredibly small decide to take the seat next to me. I cannot see the end of the vastness of the ocean as it flows on each side of me. It is expansive, and one can see that this narrow strip of sand is a breakpoint for the virulent nature of the sea. As she continues to blow gusts of wind, the waves can be heard as they crash against this island of sand that barely sits beneath me, and the color of the sea is a glorious gem that produces a magnificent contrast of both beauty and rage.
As I watch the rolling waves with their crested white crystalline caps, two beautiful bay bachelor stallions emerge over the hilltop. Their bodies are postured, shiny and lean, with their youth beautifully reflected in their silky, flowing manes and elegant trailing tails. Their coming together, as a duo in a challenge, not only begins to beautifully display their spontaneous dance of dominance and play but more so demonstrates the nature of how these horses are truly living wild and free. They snort, dance and kick and then peacefully depart and graze. Off in the distance, is the glow of a golden Bachelor stallion. His body glistens in shades of copper and gold as the sun begins to shine through the parting clouds. His mane and tail are shades of silver and blonde, and the direction of the sunlight sends a glow across the flowery meadow highlighting his background. Never have I stood before such a dreamy and angelic presence as his lengthy mane swirls in various reflections of glorious light. If one could say that magical sparkles truly exist, then I could say I have seen them. And then, in an instant, mysteriously, he is gone.
Free from living predators, her wild horses always appear at ease, but sadly not all is glorious under her watch. The impact and perils of living out at sea consistently deliver the duality of nature’s harshest elements. From the heat of the sun, where it is void of trees, to winter’s forceful cold and whirling winds, life for her inhabitants will always be at risk under conditions where only the strong and resilient consistently endure. Her landscape is ever-changing with each twist and turn engraved by the impacts of weather and time. What you see today may be erased tomorrow, and what you cannot see may yet to be discovered. Below the edge of a sandy crest on the bank rests a thin, golden, and chestnut-colored mane., Solely a mane, blowing freely in the wind from the base of the rippled sand. One cannot tell who peacefully rests there but that their demise came well before their time. Every mane has its story and one that foretells the passage of time by challenges, cycles, seasons, and generations. There is an ease of acceptance in knowing how she gracefully buries her own, and suddenly the nature of death becomes more beautiful. Although what precedes dying may be hard, her mastery of instilling grace through her process is far more than imaginable.
Over the horizon of a sandbank that delicately decorates the coastal beachline with swaying green grass, every girl’s childhood dream suddenly is brought to life. His stature is lean, healthy, and strong, his coat is as black as coal, and his mane is elegantly aligned with the fury of the wind. The sun reflects against his mane, leaving a silver ombre of sheen highlighted tips at the edges of his extraordinary mane. This black stallion is unlike any other I have seen. He majestically portrays the ancestral essence of her legendary horses and the resilience, freedom, and challenges that each must endure. His elegance, maturity and solitary path speaks of his readiness to leave the safety of his Bachelor band and move on. As time stands still, we quietly stand at the meeting of our two worlds. Only for a moment, does he offer me a glimpse into his world, and magically I feel incredibly wild and free. He is the call that I feel in my deepest moments of life’s reflections, and he is the voice that speaks to the deeper meaning of why I am here. As words elude me, he shows me that, at times, life is not meant to be defined.
Free from living predators, her wild horses always appear at ease, but sadly not all is glorious under her watch. The impact and perils of living out at sea consistently deliver the duality of nature’s harshest elements. From the heat of the sun, where it is void of trees, to winter’s forceful cold and whirling winds, life for her inhabitants will always be at risk under conditions where only the strong and resilient consistently endure. Her landscape is ever-changing with each twist and turn engraved by the impacts of weather and time. What you see today may be erased tomorrow, and what you cannot see may yet to be discovered. Below the edge of a sandy crest on the bank rests a thin, golden, and chestnut-colored mane., Solely a mane, blowing freely in the wind from the base of the rippled sand. One cannot tell who peacefully rests there but that their demise came well before their time. Every mane has its story and one that foretells the passage of time by challenges, cycles, seasons, and generations. There is an ease of acceptance in knowing how she gracefully buries her own, and suddenly the nature of death becomes more beautiful. Although what precedes dying may be hard, her mastery of instilling grace through her process is far more than imaginable.
Over the horizon of a sandbank that delicately decorates the coastal beachline with swaying green grass, every girl’s childhood dream suddenly is brought to life. His stature is lean, healthy, and strong, his coat is as black as coal, and his mane is elegantly aligned with the fury of the wind. The sun reflects against his mane, leaving a silver ombre of sheen highlighted tips at the edges of his extraordinary mane. This black stallion is unlike any other I have seen. He majestically portrays the ancestral essence of her legendary horses and the resilience, freedom, and challenges that each must endure. His elegance, maturity and solitary path speaks of his readiness to leave the safety of his Bachelor band and move on. As time stands still, we quietly stand at the meeting of our two worlds. Only for a moment, does he offer me a glimpse into his world, and magically I feel incredibly wild and free. He is the call that I feel in my deepest moments of life’s reflections, and he is the voice that speaks to the deeper meaning of why I am here. As words elude me, he shows me that, at times, life is not meant to be defined.
As she has done for over three hundred years, she keeps her promises to her horses, for a life that remains authentically wild and free. She graciously gifts you with nothing to take home, except for keepsakes of wisdom and a yearning for a more authentic way of life. Her fierceness is a memory that now runs through my veins. She is fiery and confident, yet she exhibits the essence of grace, beauty, simplicity, and solitude. She is no different than you or me, in that she is both the masculine and feminine energy that created us. She's resilient and adaptable, and death does not escape those who inhabit her. She is an ever-changing force to be reckoned with. She is a survivor, and her history is buried well below the sand and the sea, and so too, is the legend of her majestic, wild, and legendary horses.
As the sun begins to melt into the horizon, and we ascend into a brilliant sunset that one can only see from this place in the sea, I know that you and I are not ever likely to experience her the same, and one never knows just how long she will even rest upon the sea. What one who experiences her does know is that she will touch you with grace and leave you with a memory that is as inseparable as she is from her wild and legendary horses. You will likely never be the same. Like a delicate jewel, I gently wrap my experience and the gems she gave me and carefully place them back into the sea of my own heart, where the memories will always remain unnamed, untamed, wild, and free. ~*~
As the sun begins to melt into the horizon, and we ascend into a brilliant sunset that one can only see from this place in the sea, I know that you and I are not ever likely to experience her the same, and one never knows just how long she will even rest upon the sea. What one who experiences her does know is that she will touch you with grace and leave you with a memory that is as inseparable as she is from her wild and legendary horses. You will likely never be the same. Like a delicate jewel, I gently wrap my experience and the gems she gave me and carefully place them back into the sea of my own heart, where the memories will always remain unnamed, untamed, wild, and free. ~*~
"She graciously gifts you with nothing to take home, except for keepsakes of wisdom and a yearning for a more authentic way of life. "
