We stopped by the Assateague  National Park the other day, as the last day of our driving vacation up to Baltimore and Philadelphia and a certain sister’s birthday party.

Assateague is a barrier island on the coast of Maryland, and the only place on the east coast (that I know of) that has wild horses. You may have read about the Virginia side of the island, called Chincoteague, in the book Misty. We ended up on the Maryland side simply because it was easier to get to on our drive.

Anyway, as we were driving to a hiking trail, I started to try to mitigate the disappointment in case we didn’t see any horses.

“There are lots of other animals here,” I said. “Not just horses. We might not see any horses, but it’ll still be cool.”

“Nah,” my oldest son said. He’s nine. “Just horses. Anything smaller than that doesn’t count.”

“So deer are okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Deer are good.”

Just then, we spotted a horse eating grass by the side of the road. She was tan and white, with big brown eyes and a soft-looking tail that swished from side to side as she ate.

We stopped and took pictures and talked about it, then continued on our way.

“I can’t believe we saw a wild horse,” my wife said as she climbed out of the car.

“That was my first one!” my seven-year old said. He and I were already on the trail, waiting for the others to get their stuff and join us. “The first time I’ve ever seen a wild horse!”

“A lot of people have never seen them,” I said.

“And that’s my first wild horse poop!” he said, pointing to a brown pile on the ground.

I looked at it, and then at him. He exploded with laughter.