As a child, Gena Wasley swept stalls and scooped manure in exchange for the knowledge that brought her here, to a small paddock in Orangevale.
Wasley, 35, trains horses for a living – gentles them, if you will.
But this is a new challenge for her: a 3-year-old wild mustang mare never molded by voice commands or human hands. An animal with legendary roots in the Old West. A horse she must transform into a gentle riding companion in 90 days as part of a unique federal competition set for June.
"In the beginning, the part that takes the longest is building this trust," Wasley says, as she gingerly slips her petite frame between the steel bars of the corral. "It's an honor when they trust you."
A pair of her chaps hang from the bars, something to remind the mare of the scent of its new boss.
Standing regally, a symbol out of synch with the police siren wailing and the lawn mowers grinding nearby, the mare eyes every movement the woman makes, its ears twitching with Wasley's quiet, cautious murmurs. A back hoof cants, ready to kick at any startling movement.
"Good girl, good girl, good girl," Wasley says as she slowly steps through hay, enclosed in a space no bigger than a backyard swimming pool.
As she steps, the mare steps, maintaining the distance between them.
"It's a dance. And I lead the dance," Wasley says.
She is one of 33 trainers who signed up for the June competition in Sacramento, which offers cash prizes to trainers demonstrating the most progress. All the horses will be auctioned off to qualified buyers. The better the training, the higher the bids.
The U.S. Bureau of Land Management, federal manager of the wild mustang herds on public land, is working with the Texas-based Mustang Heritage Foundation to stage the first competition of its kind on the West Coast.
The BLM and the nonprofit foundation are hoping that, through people like Wasley, the plight of the American mustang and its storied past can gain understanding and support for the adoption of horses that no longer can stay with the herd.
Wasley, who owns two horses, is not in this for the money. The foundation pays expenses up to $500, but it was up to Wasley to find someone to board the horse, someone to donate hay.
She works several hours a day, morning and night. Just five days after getting the horse, Wasley grins with elation.
"It's everything I hoped for," she says. "I want to do right by her. I don't want to feel any pressure."
Already, the mare sports a halter, a lead dangling from it in the dust. Wasley says she detects intelligence and curiosity, along with a desire to follow her lead.
The mare leans toward Wasley, stretching its neck to nuzzle a hawk feather she twirls, anything to close the distance between them.
As sunset burnishes its copper coat, the mare rewards Wasley by trotting around the paddock, following her voice. It ducks into the open door of its stall, engulfed by darkness except for the white blaze on its nose.
The horse seeks refuge in the stall when it feels threatened, momentarily retreating.
Wasley's "Tut, tut, tut, tut," lets the mare know it is off-course. Always, the mare emerges, ready to join her again. Before the two hours are over, the mare trots in circles, halting when Wasley shouts, "Ho."
She has 85 days to go.
Call The Bee's M.S. Enkoji, (916) 321-1106.
