Out of our misery

by Luke O’Neil

You saw a series of photos the other day of panicked wild horses being chased by a helicopter. It loomed over them like a bird of prey in contrast against the backdrop of a red setting sun.

The image crawled with you into bed and so you reached over for the plugged-in phone and searched around for more information and found an article that said that a dozen of the horses had died in the operation.

The rangers had been trying to round them up on federal land so they had made a break for it. 

One stallion fractured a leg and kept running on its other three for thirty six minutes it said which seemed so sad in its specificity. Who was timing it?