The giara horses of Gesturi live in the wild in central Sardinia. They are hardy animals that have survived centuries of harsh weather and human encroachment. Encountering them is a rare spectacle.
The weather conditions could hardly be worse. Cold, damp air seeps through our clothing; the sky is bright but grey, and occasional downpours break the monotony of the fog. There is not a soul in sight. We spot a herd of sheep fleeing at the sight of us. We try venturing into the heart of the park and, remarkably, catch a glimpse of some volunteers warming themselves by a fire inside a farmhouse. "Do you need anything?" One of them braves the storm to come and greet us. "We'd like to see the giara horses," we reply, feeling almost embarrassed. "You can try in that direction, but without boots it won't be easy," the man warns, pointing us towards a path. The embarrassment grows, but we thank him and decide to give it a go. After all, we've come all this way.
We find ourselves on the plateau of the giara di Gesturi – sa jara manna (the great giara), as the Sardinians call it –, right in the heart of Sardinia. A natural fortress sheltering some of Europe's last wild horses: the giara horses (Equus caballus giarae). Despite averaging 120 centimetres at the withers, they are not considered ponies. Although they have a sturdy neck and a large head, they can boast an agile build. It is not known whether they lived on the island since the time of the Nuragic civilisation or were subsequently brought over by the Phoenicians, but they populated it until the late Middle Ages. Today, however, they can only be admired on the giara: an inhospitable place where the resources needed for survival are easier to find during winter and spring, when the plateau's natural hollows – known as paulis – fill with rainwater.
And it is precisely through puddles that we find ourselves splashing, without boots or an umbrella, in search of the horses. The environment we are immersed in is so beautiful it takes your breath away. It feels like one of those enchanted forests on the Scottish island of Skye, the kind you might imagine inhabited by fairies. The vegetation is lush, a vivid green despite the temperature; the rough bark of the cork oaks is blanketed in soft moss, dampened by the dew. There is silence, but there is life. You can sense it everywhere. We do not know whether we will see the horses, but we can feel their presence. Suddenly, we make out a shape hidden among the trees: it is a cow. It even gives us a slight fright, because it is enormous, and we know that free-ranging cows can turn aggressive if they feel threatened. But we decide to follow it, keeping a safe distance so as not to startle it either. All at once, a distant sound shatters the silence. It is a whinny. Our hearts quicken: the horses are close.
We hear it again. This time it is louder. And then, all of a sudden, there he is: a stallion emerges from the bushes at a trot. He watches us with his brilliantly dark eyes. He does not seem to care much about our presence, and moves away. We know that herds are made up of a dominant male, a few mares and their foals, which are generally born in spring. We try to follow in the direction taken by the head of the family.
The spectacle that awaits us is not easy to describe. A group of giara horses is grazing in the rain. The mist almost conceals them, but we can still make out their long, slightly tousled manes. Their wet coats glisten in various shades of black, from dark bay to jet black. It is pouring with rain, but we stay and watch. Suddenly a foal gallops up to join the herd, and they all begin to run and leap together. They move away, almost dancing, until they vanish from sight. Drenched, we make our way back to the car parked outside the park. We turn the heating on to dry off, knowing we have just had one of the most incredible experiences of our lives.
To think that these horses came close to extinction. Until the middle of the last century they were periodically used on the threshing floors of local villages to thresh grain and legumes, working alongside humans without entirely giving up their freedom. With the advent of mechanical threshing machines, that balance was broken: some breeders attempted to cross the giara horses with larger animals, with an eye to trading their meat, thereby threatening the very survival of the breed.
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Around the mid-1970s, fortunately, the Istituto per l'incremento ippico di Ozieri – later succeeded by the Dipartimento di ricerca per l'incremento ippico – took on responsibility for safeguarding the horses and their uniqueness. Even today they would benefit from greater protection, not least because climate change risks disrupting their harmony with the environment and the seasons, as well as reducing the availability of water and food resources.
These animals are hardy, resilient and spirited, with a proud and untameable character. They will rarely be intimidated by the challenges that lie before them. Yet in the partnership formed by horse and rider, obstacles are overcome together.
Foto in anteprima © La Giara Sardegna