When an opportunity is placed before you to go see any sort of re-enactment, no matter how unlikely you are to enjoy it, take it.
Life was just going along pretty normal, one day we are lying around without much going on and the next moment we are on our way to Custer’s Last Stand Re-enactment.
It’s a bit odd to wake up one morning with horses and Cavalry and Native Americans camping out beside your tent. Imagine if you will, crawling out of your tent to run into the curly blond haired Custer at your feet, smiling down at you when he has been up since before sunrise.
As taken as you might be by his sparkly smile, the thing you start to notice more are the horses.
The Native horses are sent out on their own to wander down through the tents and get a drink of water. They do this and then head home on their own accord.
The Cavalry’s horses are tied up and led every step of their day, so they don’t cause a ruckus in camp.
After practices all day, the real performance finally begins.
You are sitting out on the field being transported back in time to this long forgotten battle between two totally different groups of men when (with the exception of one unusually handsome Native rider) you only see the horses, and in particular, the Native horses, who, without riders anywhere near, start to do their routine right in front of your feet.
Back and forth and back and forth these beauties dance in perfect time with the script.
Far away in the fields you see uniforms and stallions with shiny buttons coming ever so slowly near, and soon the dancing horses find their way to their caretakers and the show goes on.
One can hardly recall the shouts and the blood that undoubtedly were painstakingly practiced by all these men, but to this day the dance of the horses continues in my head.