a drink of water, a mouthful of grass. The weakest 

 and the lowest-ranking drank last and least; many 

 died. Only a few gained the strength and rank to 

 challenge a harem master for his herd, or earned a 

 place on the East End. 



Between these regions lies a third, where 

 Rubenstein found both the vegetation and the pat- 

 tern of equine society in transition. Two herds 

 shared the area, and their habits were like those of 

 the wild mustangs in the Grand Canyon. Their 

 ranges overlapped; they took turns at central water- 

 ing holes. 



"Growing up in animal societies is not an easy 

 task," Rubenstein writes. It is a stark understate- 

 ment, measured against the sun-bleached bones of a 

 horse that died because it lacked the strength to pull 

 itself out of the marsh mud. On Shackleford, no one 

 intervenes in the process of natural selection. Aside 

 from the July Fourth roundup, when families, many 

 from Harkers island, brand a few foals and reclaim a 

 largely symbolic ownership, people for the most part 

 leave the horses alone. Sickness, injury and starva- 

 tion trim the population to a hundred or so. 



Rubenstein says that newborn colts have a 41 per- 

 cent chance of living two years, the age by which 

 most are weaned. Fillies face slightly better odds, 

 probably because they are less rowdy and require 

 less food. 



Colts and fillies born into this world find it gover- 

 ned by the drive to survive, to leave offspring, but 

 also by aggression and a strict protocol. 



Typically, colts stay in their parents' herd until 

 about age four, the age when most are ready to 

 breed. Then they leave, some of their own accord, 

 some because they are at last driven away. 



Infrequently, a colt will be strong and smart 

 enough to earn a place as helper in the herd of a 

 neighboring stallion. Most often, he must first pay 

 his dues among the bachelors and loners on the West 

 End. If he arrives there strong and practiced at 

 fighting, he may enter West End society with a rank 

 near the middle, and survive to reproduce, either by 

 taking a harem, or by sneaking into another 

 stallion's herd to mate. 



Rank is both a matter of seniority — the older 

 bachelors often prevail — and power. Males win 

 promotions with their teeth, their hooves, and also 

 with the ferocity of their threats. 



Fillies, which begin breeding around their third 

 birthday, often leave their natal herd then and wan- 

 der widely on the island before they settle on a 

 harem, where they are usually welcome by the 

 stallion, if not by the other mares. Rubenstein 

 postulates that these relocations — among both males 

 and females — help reduce inbreeding. 



Photo by Neil Caudle 



A Shackleford mare and her foal 



In the harem, a filly is also assigned her rank, 

 depending on her age and condition — adults ranking 

 highest. Threats, headshakes and kicking help the 

 top mares dominate their subordinates. 



The top-ranking mares enjoy several privileges, 

 especially in the territories. Rubenstein has shown 

 that territorial stallions favor ranking females, both 

 as mates and for what he calls "grooming." Horses 

 groom one another by picking off bugs with their 

 teeth, or cleaning matted manes and coats. They ex- 

 ercise more independence as well, since the stallion 

 herds and harries them less frequently than those of 

 lower status. Outside the territories, these privileges 

 of rank were far less pronounced. 



Since the revolution of '80, things just haven't 

 been the same among the herds of Shackleford. Big 

 Red, who once ruled a herd of 22 and the big 

 territory on the island's eastern tip, lost his harem to 

 an upstart. So did JJ, a stallion with a harem 18- 

 strong. Now the herds are smaller — six or seven 

 each, and the youngsters run the show. 



And what about the colt Slash Star? He lost that 

 battle for the sorrel stallion's harem, some eight 

 months after his arrival as apprentice. 



And even though the territorial order has fallen, 

 Rubenstein and his students will be back next year, 

 and probably for years to come, watching to see if it 

 rises again. With their stopwatches, recorders, 

 cameras and notebooks, they will record the births, 

 the deaths, the horseplay and the battles. They will 

 feed all their facts into computers and print out the 

 patterns and pecking-orders. In the laboratory of 

 Shackleford, they are learning not only about horses, 

 but about method — techniques that Rubenstein says 

 will help them see how wild creatures of all kinds 

 adapt to a harsh and unusual environment. 



—Neil Caudle 



