Pryor Mountain Wild Horses: Why they matter to our identity, history and economy

Bear with me here for just a minute. I’m going to put on my old science teacher hat for a moment and talk about DNA.

You know DNA. That code stuff that makes us what we are. Eye color, height, how our bodies work, how well we adapt to the world around us. The whole genetic thing.

Now imagine this: Around 400 years ago, somewhere in California or Mexico, a group of Spanish explorers, miners or settlers had a bunch of horses get loose. Maybe they escaped during a storm. Maybe a corral failed. Maybe they slipped away from a sinking ship. We aren’t sure why, but what we do know is that once those horses were free, they did what horses have always done very well. They survived. And survival wasn’t easy.

Those early horses faced deserts where water was scarce and forage thin. They crossed wild rivers with spring runoff roaring past them. They endured blizzards, heat waves, droughts and bitter cold. They learned to avoid predators like wolves and mountain lions, fought off disease and survived long stretches of near starvation. Every generation was shaped by hardship. Weakness didn’t last long on the landscape.

Along the way, other horses likely joined the herd. Ranch horses got loose. Cavalry horses escaped. A little genetic mixing happened, muddying the waters a bit. That’s normal. But here’s the remarkable part: By design or by sheer luck, the horses that settled into the Pryors managed to keep their bloodlines unusually pure.

During this time, Native people likely captured some of the horses and put them to use for hunting, travel and warfare. Some were bred in captivity, while others eventually escaped and rejoined the herds, further shaping the inherited traits that made these animals distinctive.

Today, the horses living on the Pryor Mountain Wild Horse Range carry DNA that traces back to those original Spanish horses. Studies have identified rare markers in this herd that are closely associated with Colonial Spanish horses, markers that are uncommon or missing in most other wild horse populations in the United States.

In plain terms, these aren’t just “some wild horses.” From a genetic standpoint, they are living history.

Just as in our communities we take pride in the pioneering men and women who settled here and built lives from the strengths they carried with them, these horses carry their own legacy of survival. Their DNA reflects centuries of endurance in harsh country: steep terrain, cold winters, limited water and relentless wind. That resilience is written into their heredity, shaped by the same landscape we see every day when we look toward the Pryors. Once that genetic story is lost, it can’t be recreated.

But let’s set the science aside for a moment and talk about something just as real. Why does this matter to Lovell?

The answer is tourism. And not the abstract kind. Real dollars.

Every summer, people from across Wyoming, Montana and far beyond make their way toward the Pryors hoping to see the wild horses. They’re photographers with long lenses, families on road trips, wildlife enthusiasts, artists, writers and retirees checking something off a bucket list. And almost all of them pass through or stay near Lovell.

They buy gas. They eat meals. They book hotel rooms. They ask for directions. They stop in local stores. Some stay an extra night because the weather didn’t cooperate or because someone told them, “You really ought to try again in the morning.”

Lodging matters. Restaurants matter. Gas stations matter. When people come to see the horses, they aren’t just driving in, snapping a photo and disappearing. They’re interacting with our town, often for a day or two, sometimes longer.

Then there are the guided tours. Outfitters and regional guides offer trips into the Pryors specifically to view and photograph the horses. These aren’t thrill rides. They’re educational, low-impact experiences built around respect for the land and the animals. That kind of tourism attracts people who value conservation and history, the sort of visitors who are happy to spend money locally and leave with good things to say about Lovell.

There’s also a quieter economy tied to the horses. Coffee table photo books. Calendars. Prints. Postcards. Articles. Educational materials. When you see a striking image of Pryor mustangs hanging on a wall or printed in a book, odds are good that Lovell is part of the story, whether it’s named directly or not.

And here’s something that’s easy to overlook: Uniqueness matters.

There are wild horses in other places. But there aren’t many herds like this one. The fact that scientists consider the Pryor horses genetically distinctive gives them national significance. That distinction is what draws people here instead of somewhere else. You don’t travel hundreds of miles to see something ordinary. You come to see something you can’t see anywhere else.

As supporters of our herd, we need to be aware that the Bureau of Land Management is considering a change in how it manages the Pryor Mountain Wild Horse Range. In its most recent management plan, the BLM is proposing to stop using lineages and pedigrees when deciding which horses to remove to maintain a viable herd, a shift that could gradually weaken the very traits that make the herd unique and give them the strength to survive in the harsh environment of the Pryors.

If managers no longer use those identifying criteria to keep the gene pool as large as possible, they lose an important tool for preserving the rare bloodlines that make the Pryor horses nationally known. Without careful selection guided by pedigree information, horses could be removed at random, gradually diminishing the very qualities that set this herd apart.

Protecting them isn’t just about nostalgia or sentiment. It’s about stewardship. A healthy, well-managed herd preserves rare genetics, honors history and continues to draw visitors who support local businesses. Lose what makes these horses special, and you lose the reason people come.

So yes, saving the Pryor horses is about DNA and history. But it’s also about hotel rooms filled in July, gas pumps clicking away, meals served, guides hired, books sold and stories told.

For Lovell, that matters. Like the Pryor horses, and like the men and women who settled this valley more than 130 years ago, our strength has always come from resilience. If we want this town to remain strong and vibrant, we must protect what makes us unique and have the courage to build on it.

These horses aren’t just a relic of the past or a topic for scientists. They are a living part of our landscape, our economy and our story. And that makes them worth protecting, not just for what they were, but for what they continue to be.