The face of a Mustang (Image - Frederick Remington) It sounds extravagant to say it, but I honestly believe that without the Mustang there be no Western civilization. It was the sturdy legs of this game little native horse which carried our star of empire into the West. White faced Mustang (photo courtesy - Wild Side Ranch) The Mustang knows what intelligence means.
		17. "The Mustang" By Frank T. Hopkins A friend of mine, amateur historian of the West, asked me one day if I could name the most significant animal on the American continent. "Think carefully before you speak," said he, "because there are many important animals—cattle, sheep, buffalo." I replied, "I don't have to think before I reply to this question. I already know the answer." "All right, let me have it." "The Mustang is the most significant animal in America." He replied, "I agree with you absolutely. I just wanted to see if you agreed with me." Three of Frank T. Hopkins' favorite horses during his years as a circus specialty rider: Darkie, Blaze and Blueskin— two of them Mustangs from the West. (photo courtesy - Horse and Horsemen, January 1937) This statement of mine is absolutely true, as any one who will study Western history will discover. It sounds extravagant to say it, but I honestly believe that without the Mustang there be no Western civilization. It was the sturdy legs of this game little native horse which carried our star of empire into the West. As has been pointed out before, the country west of the Missouri River was not a footman's country. East of the Missouri the footman could make his way. He did. The early pioneers of the Mississippi Valley, the Ohio Valley, the Mohawk Valley, were footmen. They could travel through the woods, carrying their equipment on their backs. But when they set out across the plains, where they reached the towering fortresses of the Rocky Mountains and beyond, they needed help. They needed some form of transportation beyond what they themselves provided. The West was horse country. The Indians knew that. They had large herds of Mustangs. The first mountain men, Sublette, Ashley, Fitzpatrick, Bridger, knew it. The first goldseekers knew it. And the horse which they used was the game little Mustang. He was not native to the country, for he was introduced by the Spanish conquistadors, but he had lived long enough in it to really be acclimated. He was small but hardy. He was tough. He could subsist on scanty fare. He was plentiful, in a wild state. But the white settlers, taking what they thought was theirs, by right, trapped him, trained him, and he became their principal help. The Mustang served mankind well until a few years ago. Now, from the articles I read in The Horse, he is facing his last stand. To let him go, would, in my opinion be a major American tragedy. In my day I watched the destruction of the buffalo, the antelope, the passenger pigeon. But we say their destruction was (due to) a benighted, profligate generation. If we permit the Mustang to disappear we may be accused of the same qualities, and we will deserve the accusation. But I don't want you to think that when I make a plea for the Mustang that I am being sentimental. It isn't that. There's some sentiment attached to it, of course, and I don't like to see the bond between the old and new destroyed. But the Mustang has a very practical value which it is good business not to throw away. He has qualities which horsemen need. He has indeed, all the qualities that go to make an ideal saddle horse. What are they? First, his endurance. I have spent 60 years in the saddle, taking part in More endurance races than any other man in history. I never rode another animal but a Mustang. Others were offered me. I rejected them. The reason is that I knew what the Mustang strain means: it means a horse that can keep going day in and day out, that doesn't need bandaging, fussing with and that can endurance races whether the "rules" are made to order or not. "Old Silver," A Mustang, old as the hills when this picture was taken but could still lope for hours. A hat could be hung on almost any angle of his frame but he had plenty of "pep" when called upon to exert himself. (photo courtesy - The Vermont Horse and Bridle Trail Bulletin, October, 1941) Once, when I was riding as a messenger for General George Crook, he told me: "Frank, if Troops can't overtake a band of Indians in two hours, its better to give up the chase. Because they'll never in this green world catch them. Those wiry ponies of theirs can go ninety miles without food or water. They can wear out all the cavalry horses we have on the frontier." He knew. The second Mustang quality it would pay us to have in our saddle animals in intelligence. You can't beat Mustang intelligence in the entire equine race. That's natural enough, too. These animals had to shift for themselves for generations. They didn't have grooms keeping them out of trouble or trainers showing them what to do. They had to work out their own destiny or be destroyed. Some were destroyed in the working out of nature's survival law. Those who survived were animals of superior intelligence. The Mustang knows what intelligence means. Third, hes an economical little horse. He can lived where a stall-fed animal would starve. A friend of mine was telling me about accompanying a border patrolman in Texas. He was mounted on a fine big modern horse, this friend of mine was. The Texan, a grizzled old fellow, was riding a flea bitten little dun Mustang. They set out. They were riding through mesquite-covered hills. My friend, looking down on the little horse of his companion thought: "I'll walk his legs off by nightfall. This will be good." But when mid-afternoon came, so hard was the pace, it was the big horse that faltered. And by night-time, my friend was afoot. But the little Texas Mustang was going as strong as ever. Next morning he was ready for another day of it. The bigger horse was so badly "stove up" he couldnt be used for five days. Now, that little Mustang ridden by the Texan hasn't ever tasted grain. He was grass-fed all his life. He picked how own food from the country, could live where even a cow would starve and knew how to take such good care of himself that he was always ready to go. You have probably inferred from what I have had to say on this subject that I'm heartily in favor of the Mustang Refuge in Arizona that was once advocated by The Horse. That project strikes a responsive chord in the heart of an old frontiersman like myself, and I know that there are thousands of other old-timers who will feel as thrilled as I do about it. It seems to me that it is the opportunity to build up a typically American horse, something we do not at the present time have. We have horses which we hail as typically American—the Morgan and the Standardbred. But they're merely replants of horses either from Arabia or from the English Thoroughbred stock. But the Mustang is as American as George Washington, and America is a vast enough land, an important enough nation to have a horse of our very own. That means the Mustang. In South America, in the Argentine, they had a native horse corresponding to the Mustang of the United States, the Criollo horse you know. But they have always been more far-sighted than we. They took the Criollo, built up the breed, and now have a stud registry for the native horse, have important horse shows in the capitols every year, and in other ways have given their natural asset importance. It is pretty late in the game for us to do the same thing here, for only a remnant of the Mustang herds remains. But it isn't too late. That is the point—it isnt too late for us to jump in now and save what we have of Mustangs and, if choose, to build up the breed until we have a horse of which we can be proud—a staunch-legged, enduring, intelligent, easy-keeping, useful, all-around American saddle horse. I know the Mustang can be built up, because in past years I have many times experimented and bred endurance horses from Mustang strains. I do want to make it clear, however, that I do not mean we should cross the Mustang on larger breeds and produce a hybrid which is neither one or the other. I mean we should take the Mustang in this refuge, and weed out the inferior specimens, breed the superior ones and gradually evolve a top breed of genuine Mustangs—THE HORSE. I well remember some of the great rides made on Mustangs. Fitzgerald, one of my friends of the old days, who, like the rest, left me stranding guard alone (he passed on two yeas ago) was the last of the dispatch riders, excepting myself. One of his rides was on a small Mustang called "Fan Tan" not over 14 hands high. Fitch, himself, stood six feet three inches and weighed in over 180 pounds. During the (sp) War, he rode that Mustang about 300 miles in thirty-seven hours, with no rest for either horse or rider. Where would some of these large weight-carrying horses of today call a halt on such a ride as that? My rough guess is about forty miles from the starting line! Our Bulletin is not big enough for me to write some of the real hard rides I remember, even if I had time to tell of them. One of our members owns a Mustang who is known to most riders who have taken part on the 100-Mile Trail Ride. Although this mare, "Midnight," is thirty years old, she always holds her own on the trails and comes back in good spirit at the close of the day. This mare was caught wild from the Skull Creek Band of Mustangs and shipped to a dealer here along with a number of other halter-broke ponies. This horse dealer still handles a few carloads of these horses occasionally. "Midnight" was shipped here twenty-eight years ago and was sold on the halter to Mr. Charles Rankin who her to Connecticut after training her for the saddle. He sold her to play polo in Deham, Mass. A few years later, her owner died and the mare was purchased and returned to Connecticut. There she shifted hands three times before being bought by her present owner. The mare was now along in years but not broken in spirit or endurance. "Midnight" must be about 33 years old now. They tell me that as a polo pony she was fast. Very quick and never seemed to tire. Many people do not like Mustangs because these horses will not take abuse—such as hanging their mouths full of iron bits, or riders constantly tugging at the reins. Mustangs will just tell any one who rides them to "do it right, or get off and walk."—and most of them are capable of making you walk if they are not treated right! I have found them to be quite very friendly, and perfectly willing to share all kinds of hardships with me, and have never known one to quit or fail me in any way.
		17. "The Mustang" Hopkins, Frank T. Vermont Horse and Bridle Trail Bulletin, Date unknown.

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