Wild Echoes of Assateague

An excerpt from “America Found”.

Assateague Island, a slender ribbon of land stretching north to south along the Maryland and Virginia coastline, cradled between the relentless Atlantic Ocean to the east and the tranquil Chincoteague Bay to the west, held its own enigmatic allure. In its Maryland territory, it was under the watchful guardianship of the National Park Service. As this slip of land crossed the border into Virginia, it assumed the identity of Chincoteague Island National Wildlife Refuge, overseen by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

A tale of the horses continues to be shrouded in mystery. Their origins continue to spark debate. Some tales whisper of a shipwreck, with the horses finding refuge on these sandy shores. Yet, the prevailing belief was that in the late 17th century the ancestors of these horses were brought from the mainland, for owners to escape the grasp of fencing laws and the burdening taxation on livestock.

Life on Assateague Island has never been for the faint-hearted. Mosquitoes swarm with relentless determination during the intense heat and humidity of the summer months. The winters unleash their fury, driven by oceanic winds.  When the human inhabitants eventually abandoned the island, the horses were left behind to carve their existence from the harsh, unforgiving landscape. Yet, amid these severe challenges, the horses have adapted seamlessly. It is this adaptation and survival that has drawn me to know them, and to experience them at the deepest level possible.

And now the beckoning for my return, that has endured within me for more than four decades, was now within my grasp.

Return to the Island:

There were no childhood memories that surfaced - no remembrances of my childhood visit as I passed through the unoccupied entrance gate onto the Island.  It was as if I were experiencing it for the first time. It was like entering a ghost town. Desolation greeted me. There was an eerie quiet, vacant of tourists, park rangers, and even the horses. The mid-afternoon bathed the island landscape, even adding a slight bit of warmth to the cold damp air.

As I climbed out of the Expedition the winds coming across from the Atlantic penetrated into the marrow of my bones. In the near distance I spotted a pathway that seemed to beckon me, so without hesitation I followed it, allowing it to lead me deep into the forested heart of the island.

Once I emerged from the woods, I was greeted by the tranquil open vista of the bay's marshland, and in the distance, a small band of horses were grazing, oblivious to my approach. Attempting to draw nearer, I found myself challenged by the cramping cold waters of the marsh. With each forward step my feet, then my legs submerged deeper into the water, first to my ankles, then rising just above my calves, not quite reaching my knees. My calves tightened immediately into severe cramps, feeling as if the muscle fibers would tear and disconnect from the bones. All I could do was stand still until my muscles acclimated through numbing. Using a long focal length lens I attempted to photograph the band of horses in the distance, but to no avail. They were too far away. It is this vastness of the marshland that has provided a sanctuary for the Assateague Horses, both as isolation as well as an inexhaustible supply of food.

With the inability to make a suitable photograph, I retraced my steps through the marsh, and back to the pathway that led me through the forest. Once I reached the Expedition I dug through my ‘emergency gear bag’ - a deep red broad mesh bag that contained an extra pair of pants, a shirt, a few pairs of socks, towels, and extra pair of boots etc. I stripped off my boots, socks and pants. Since there was no room inside the fully packed Expedition, I was left to change outside - exposed to the winds now mixed with moistened sand that had a slight sting to it as it blew across my exposed skin. These are the adventures that I live for.

With dry clothing I decided to explore the rest of the island. A nearby hiking trail guided me through the austere landscape, where scrub and other resilient plants clung to life.

I attempted to capture their essence in photographs, finding metaphors for existence in their determination to adapt and survive. This is something that I have always loved about photographing the landscape, especially in minute detail. It allows me to connect, to witness, and to gain an insight into its magic. It is as if I am granted a peek through a special window. It is through this window that I found the beauty in this landscape, and a stillness amidst the violence of the elements that surrounded me.

The blue sky had now succumbed to heavy gray clouds. The wind off of the Atlantic had intensified. There was a fierceness to them as if trying to dissuade me from lingering any longer. I ventured to the island's Atlantic side, encountering a vast, wild beach that stretched beyond the horizon.

There was a primal quality to it as if I were witnessing a scene that has played out here for millions of years. Waves crashed with a violence, as if they had been angered by unseen forces. The wind, ladened with salt and spray, pummeled me - reminding me of my own insignificance in this passion play of nature.

It was exhilarating! I was witnessing nature at its most authentic and, most of all, I was bearing witness to life on this island. 

A Bittersweet Encounter

As I began my drive off the island I came across a small band of horses in the main parking lot. The scene was bittersweet at best. The horses were scavenging for food in the now empty trash cans, just like the bears in places like Yellowstone. This adaptation was part of their survival, but at what cost? I must admit that, for me, there was an apocalyptic feel to the scene, and one that left me disenchanted.

A Dawn Revelation

The following morning I returned to the island just as dawn was breaking. There was a calmness now, unlike the feeling of desolation I felt the day before. This time I felt as if I was entering a pristine landscape void of any human discovery before my arrival. The unoccupied entry gate now seemed to mark the transition point between civilization and nature. As I drove along the twisting roadway I noticed a narrow gap in the vegetation. That inner voice told me to slow down, so that I could peer through the opening. As I did I glimpsed a chestnut-colored horse grazing in the marshland just on the other side of the tall scrub that created the barrier. 

Checking my rear view mirror to make sure no one was behind me, I turned the steering wheel hard to the left, turning the Expedition around. There was a grassy area just off of the paved road where I could park. I grabbed two cameras, one with a short telephoto lens, and the other with a wide angle zoom. Again checking to see that no other cars were in the vicinity I crossed the road, passed through the narrow opening in the vegetation. It was like walking through a magical doorway. Before me was the vastness of the marshland, bathed in the warm glow of low the early morning light that cast long deep shadows across the landscape.

This time the horses were not off in the distance, but right there. I stepped into the marsh, but this time the cold water had no adverse effect on me.

Soon I was surrounded by five of the horses, so close that they brushed against me as they grazed. It was as if I had become part of the herd. Suddenly photography had become secondary; this was an experience to be cherished - to be taken in as fully as possible.

I was able to see the thickness of their heavy winter coats that protected them from the elements, and to feel its texture on my hands. Eventually I began to photograph them, but with great difficulty because of their close proximity to me. In time they began to move further away as they continued to graze. I too was then able to move about. For nearly an hour I remained embedded with these magnificent creatures, feeling a profound connection to the primal natural world. 

Then I noticed, through the narrow opening in the vegetation, a minivan passing by. I had no way of knowing if they saw me, or not; but regardless they would have surely noticed my vehicle parked on the opposite side of the road. I wasn’t willing to take a chance of being discovered, because that would mean that the horses would be discovered as well. I positioned myself so that I would be hidden by the vegetation if they drove by again, so that I could pause for a moment to thank the horses for sharing their lives with me - for allowing me a glimpse into their world.

With that I listened for the sounds of a vehicle. When I felt that the road was clear, I slipped into the narrow opening, peered in both directions as I emerged on the other side, then quickly ran across the roadway, climbed into the Expedition, started the engine, and drove away. Once I exited the island I pulled over once again, shut off the engine and sat in silence for several minutes. What had I just experienced? It was still surreal. I wanted to get out of the Expedition and dance with joy. I wanted to burst into tears at the profoundness of what I had just witnessed. But most of all I needed to remain in silence to just be - to not get caught up in the analyzing of what just occurred. That would have been disrespectful to the entirety of it all. So I sat there in silence, and in overwhelming gratitude for the gift that I had been given.

Even as I write this, several years later, I still have not fully absorbed the event, and it is doubtful that I ever will - which continues to speak to the profoundness of it. On that morning I came to know the Assateague Horses - as intimately as any human possibly could. I existed within their environment, and witnessed their existence in its authenticity. I had been accepted by them with equality, and my very existence had been changed profoundly, and indelibly.