The air was soft and warm, as a summer breeze softened the strong rays of the midday sun. The mares were gathered under a tree in the far pasture, enjoying the shade that the tree offered them. Char, who worked at the hospital nearby, enjoyed taking her lunch break in the company of her mares. She looked forward to this part of her day. Like opening the windows on a fresh, breezy day, she always returned to work reinvigorated. As she put the car in park and turned the ignition off, she opened the door and was surprised by the warmth that greeted her. "Oh my, I didn't realize how warm it would be today." Char worked in an air-conditioned building, parked her car in an air-conditioned garage and drove home in an air-conditioned car. In this part of the world, air conditioning is not a luxury but a necessity. Still, there was something to be said of the warm sunlight, dancing upon her skin. She headed towards the pasture, her intentions were to top off the water tank and toss some more hay into the feeder, then, grab some lunch. It was half past noon and the mares were quiet, escaping the strongest rays of the sun. Char was captivated by her mares' charm and elegance, even when fully relaxed and dozing. Strong and smooth-bodied, the circular lines flowing harmoniously one into another; the mares were uniquely different from other purebred Arabian horses. In her lifetime, Char was fortunate to have seen many horses, even some of the very best. The horses of her past, gave her the experience to appreciate the horses that stood before her. Her mares' iridescent white coats, intensified by their black skin, accentuated every curve, enhancing the old world look they possessed. The large, round and very black eye captured the twinkle of the sun, as it danced in and out of the shade, magnifying the depth of the eye. Char always thought that if obsidian could be melted and formed into pools, the luminous black liquid would be like her mares' eyes. The nostrils, large and delicately curved, underscored the overall beauty of her mares’ heads, which looked as if they had been chiseled by a master sculptor. The mare’s necks were long and swan-like, with a longer poll and a finer throatlatch than she remembered seeing in a long time. Well-laid back shoulders, at an angle that connected the point of chest with the withers, met a closely-coupled, strong, smooth back, supported by deep, well-sprung ribs and balanced with round, well-muscled hindquarters. When alert and moving, their high-set tails proclaimed their noble ancestry. They took Char's breath away, every time. As beautiful as her mares were, Char was also proud of their inner wisdom, their emotional strength and physical toughness, all of which contributed to their enduring stamina, hardiness and longevity. These were authentic daughters of the wind, able to float over the ground, effortlessly and efficiently, without stress to their cardiovascular system. Their ancestors had adapted to living within a harsh climate, insuring the survival of not only themselves but also, all of the horses who would come after them. Char's mind burned with the legacy that was written within her mares' genes. How long had it been since she started this journey? Sometimes, she also felt like a nomad, wandering in the desert forever, while other times she felt like there was not enough time for all she wanted to accomplish. She admits that while she was determined to build a life around horses, any horses, the urgency of preservation made the choice of her path and the sacrifices she had to make, that much clearer. She loved her mares and shuddered to think of a life without them. Char had spent the better part of the last twenty-five years carefully nurturing her small family of horses, insuring the survival of the matriline she had selected a long time ago. While focused and dedicated within her profession and to her family; this was her life's work now. She thought of the breeder’s catalogue she had purchased, "to conserve, preserve and protect…” Initially, she was intrigued by the idea of owning horses who traced back in all of their bloodlines, to horses bred by the Bedouin people, in deserts not far from where she was standing now. However, as her awareness for the concept of purity evolved, she was bothered by the growing acceptance of relativism, as a way of coming to terms with the results that the new DNA science was revealing. In the last few years, it seemed that purity could mean different things, depending on who and how the word was used. As far as Char was concerned, either something was 100% pure or it wasn't. There was no reason to change or "improve" the horse that the Bedouin people bred. The mare families within the breed, as different as one could be from another, can satisfy the wide range of preferences, without any outside help. Acknowledging this wide diversity in phenotype that exists in the breed, she had narrowed her choice down to this one particular family, who in Char's experience, consistently produced the type of horse she preferred. The mares had not only been challenging to find but far more difficult to purchase, as their breeder was not willing to part with any of them, for fear of reckless out-crossing, without regard to replacement, in the same form that they were originally bred. “I want the assurance that you will breed these mares wisely, ensuring their survival for tomorrow,” said Nasr, who had single-handedly rescued the family from extinction. Yes, it certainly had been hard and she was grateful that she had been able to prove her sincerity, her knowledge and her desire in preserving these bloodlines. The rewards were before her, dozing contentedly in the midday sun. Her goals further materialized into hopeful promise, hidden for the moment, within the belly of each of her prized mares. Soon, they would give birth to another generation, insuring the continued survival of this family. Enamored by the qualities in her mares, she had selected the finest EAO stallions, to complement the qualities of her mares. Eventually, her interest had encouraged her to research history and read about his royal highness, the Prince, who had bred the ancestors of her mares, many years ago, using the paintings of Carle Vernet, Eugene Delacroix and Albrecht Adam as a guide. Now, years and years from when the Prince last bred horses, her mares, relaxing a few yards from her, are as timeless as the horses that were depicted in the same paintings that the Prince used as a guide. It is as if the horses stepped out of the portraits, to enjoy life in the real world, on the other side of the canvas. She was eager to see the next generation and her personal contribution towards the survival of the purebred Arabian horse.
***Originally published in 2009 within the ACAB Bloodlines Catalog and a few years after that, a blog titled Fragile, this was the story of "Victor" a preservation breeder and fictional character. A few months ago, my friend Char asked me about the story. She had been looking for it and was unable to find it. I think she will be really surprised, to learn that now, she is part of the story! Thank you Char, your kind words inspire me to be a better person than I really am.***
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