We were off to see another herd, this time youngsters, equine teenagers, actually, between 2 and 4 years old, barely touched by humans, brash and more outspoken than their elders, curious about us like children. They wanted to inspect our cameras and look in our pockets. Often we had to shoo them away to keep their exuberance and horse-to-horse conversations at an appropriate distance from us and our cameras. The ground here was all tussocks, little hills about 18 inches high, created where the near Arctic weather freezes and thaws the ground, over and over. It was difficult for us to walk on it ourselves, but these horses had been raised on this earth and they bounded from end to end of the field, fleet of foot and with unexpected grace.
Terri Miller: On Paintings, Photos and Dressage 