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One Yellowstone tourist recalled the Nimiipuu women lashing herds of packhorses through forests littered with downed timber and granite chunks. The national park echoed with the shouts of the women and their whips as they dislodged horses that had become stuck between trees, smacking the animals in the head until they backed up and found another way. The grueling march was no place for tender feelings; crippled and dead horses, the trees and logs grimed with their blood, defined the line of march.

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writing, reading, photography, botany, travel

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