This one is hard

Ooft. This one is going to be hard.

Next in my story is Elvis, my little arab that I bought as a low maintenance, pre-trained, middle aged horse, that I could have as a side hobby, while I lived the rest of my life studying, partying, working and being a 19yo.

After realising that I actually couldn't live without riding (see previous blog), I bought Elvis as a then 11yo with the intention that if I had a horse that was 'easy' and didn't require 'training', then it would be far easier and far less stressful for me. I could just ride a few times a week and compete and woila, no dramas, piece of cake....

I went down and rode Elvis before buying this time (thank you Dylan for that lesson) and he was exactly what was promised. Fat, shiny, pretty and presence like The King (Elvis) himself. So I bought him and got him trucked up to Darwin from Sydney.

Elvis arrived and we started competing in the Darwin show scene, all the while him slowly worming his way into my heart. He was smart, had an ego, was an attention seeker and liked to play games. While living the Territory life, he was residing with my sister and brother-in-laws polocrosse horses. My brother-in-law would practice and try to bail Elvis up in the paddock, and get his polocrosse horses to read, react and block other horses. But Elvis outsmarted them all… and the brother-in-law too.

We moved to Brisbane the following year and Elvis came with us. Unfortunately the truck trip down was awful and Elvis got off the other end with the transporter cautioning me about my safety. He was an underweight nervous wreck, rearing when I tried to lead him and had developed sacro-iliac issues. It took the next 6-12 months for me to put weight back on him, rehabilitate him physically and then be able to mentally work with him again. Thankfully Elvis put enough trust back in me to come out the other side, and we built a partnership together that revolved around... him :)

We got back out there and strutted our stuff on the QLD show circuit winning countless champions. One of Elvis's all time favourite moments was the lap of honour at the Ekka... The memory of being a passenger on his back, trying to contain his ego while he showed off to the crowd applauding him, always makes me smile.

I gradually transitioned more into dressage and after meeting some lovely locals and a new coach, started to change the way I rode. Over the next few years we defied our coaches words and started training tempi changes, canter zig zags, and pirouettes. Elvis was always 'interesting' to ride when I applied a little pressure, so I was always 'diffusing' him. I stopped competing him and just had fun learning the coordination of aids and feel.

Elvis and I playing around on a summer evening

5 years after we moved, my dad passed away from blood cancer and Elvis became my saviour. I would go out and cry into his coat, ride him out on the trails and climb up steep cliffs, stand atop look outs and just breathe. I'd ride him bareback with no shoes and feel his coat between my toes and anchor myself back to earth through him.

With me moving into dressage, I purchased a young horse and gradually eased Elvis into retirement. Even then I would take him for the odd bareback ride, where he’d flick his head around in enjoyment at being the ‘chosen one’. I even dinkied my sister on him to grab some rakes from a back paddock after him not being ridden for years and then on our way back to the house professed to my sister “I don’t think he’s actually ever had more than one person on him before”.

Elvis was as stereotypically gay as a horse can get. If he was human, he’d be the flamboyant dramatic type that always put on a show, but one of the kindest you’d meet.

It was always all about Elvis and continued throughout his retirement until his untimely passing at 27yo. Elvis’s death rocked me to my core and it snowballed into one of my darkest times where I completely stepped back from horses for over a year.

Elvis was the horse that never failed to make me laugh. The horse I could play jokes with. And the horse who always had his eyes on me, predominantly making sure he had my attention, which he always did.

(Some old photos from the archives. I never got any good shots of Elvis because he was straight up in my face as soon as he saw me.)

And then there was Ellie May

Straight after year 12 exams I flew down to Sydney and was picked up from the airport on the way to Inglis thoroughbred sales, thoroughbred in the float and ready to be sold!

About 2 months prior I had emailed one of my favourite horse studs and asked if they would be interested in a live-in stud hand, for a girl from Darwin fresh out of school. One phone call later, the answer yes and the plans began. Thankfully, the stud owners were not axe-murderers and in fact welcomed me into the stud, their home and family.

I found these mushrooms in one of the forests on the stud and thought I had stepped into a fairytale.

One of the horses on the stud was a 4yo chestnut anglo mare, that I was fortunate to ride. Ellie May was an absolute sweet heart and I quickly fell in love. We literally walked up the road to our first show (alongside the owner riding their stallion) and she coped with the rides, carriage horses and showjumping next door. Ellie May was exactly what I needed after Dylan. We could go out on the trails on our own, do gallops across the paddock and not have a care in the world.

Gwaihir Aubusson and Ellie May (Gazelle de Gwaihir)

One of my most embarassing moments is because of Ellie May. We were at a show and I was leading her out in a led class, running as fast and as graceful as I could while trying to keep up with her big trot (I’m 5’3 and she was 16.1hh). I made the fatal mistake of trotting her while turning around, instead of coming back to a walk, turning and then trotting again. What resulted was Ellie May swinging her leg in front of mine, causing an epic superman-esque launch through the air, dropping the reins and skidding face and belly first in the muddy grass. Ellie May ever so kindly stopped and waited for me to get up and carry on back to the judge who was trying their hardest not to laugh while I bowed covered in grass and mud.

During my time there I was offered the opportunity to buy Ellie May, and we answered a big resounding yes. After spending 7 months at the stud, I returned to Darwin and brought Ellie May back with me. I continued in the dressage and showing scene where we were training medium level dressage and qualified for the Grand Nationals.

As a then 19yo working full time, studying part time, going out clubbing and having a boyfriend, something eventually gave... and that was the horses. I sold Ellie May & all my riding gear, expecting never to ride again.

A couple of months later the horse bug was back, and I pulled Lilli out and brought her back into work. The regret I had back then and still to this day for selling this wonderful mare is still strong. But, it was a ‘sliding doors moment’ for the horses and path I took next.

Ellie May went through a few homes and ended back up at the stud in pretty poor health. She was rehabbed to be a happy paddock ornament and enjoyed the rest of her days with those she began them with.

Next up is Dylan

With Shorty out of action and me more interested in dressage and showing, I was very lucky and got another horse for my 16th birthday. As a non-horsey family, we were still very naive about horse ownership and horse owners and have found out along the way that buying (and selling) horses is not for the faint hearted.

Dylan arrived from NSW with huge excitement. He was my first purpose bred horse and to look at, he was the picture perfect show galloway. While unloading Dylan (a fire breathing dragon) off the truck, we started to realise he might not be the personality we were expecting. And that perhaps some of the things the seller said might not have been true.

Dylan was cute on the ground and a big child with a big personality. Looking back on this time I wish we did thins differently, but hindsight is always great after you have learnt more.

Dylan was sometimes interested in being ridden and sometimes not. When it was the latter it was not fun at all. His repertoire included launching upwards into the air and spinning, sometimes 360 degrees while airborne. He also had the athletic ability to rear and then before his front feet landed from a rear, he would buck and then coming down from that would drop his shoulder and lean down to one side. Surprisingly I never fell off, but he left my confidence in little torn up pieces.

He usually liked jumping… until the times he didn’t and I remember one time he didn’t want to jump, so instead just did a sliding stop right before the jump, and sat on his bum like a dog. Amused at himself, he lay down and ate grass, all the while I was yelling at him to get off my leg.

We got a trainer round to ride him for one week and she helped give me some confidence back. Even though Dylans spinning antics made all the judges eyes land on him in the ring (haha) I decided not to show him and to focus on dressage while we built our partnership. Dylan started to mature and we finally started to have a little bit of fun. The year saw us qualify to represent NT in dressage at the Australian PC Championships.

Dylan never coped with the Darwin climate and had itch we could never get under control. We always felt so bad seeing him so itchy, constantly. I can only imagine it would be a torturous feeling. So we decided to sell him 'down south' after we competed at the Australian Championships.

Two weeks before my Year 12 exams, I travelled down with a couple of other Territorians and their horses to Adelaide to represent NT. Dylan surprised me and was so well behaved. It left me wondering if part of his behaviour was due to being uncomfortable in the Darwin climate. During my last ride on him, I came down the centre line to halt at the end of our dressage test and burst into tears.

I left Dylan with professionals to be sold and travelled back up to Darwin to finish Year 12.

Dylan was sold and ended up with a young girl who loved him and competed him in eventing. Dylan was always one to do what he wanted and when he was with us in Darwin, he would just jump out of his paddock if he wanted to be somewhere else and this never changed.

Unfortunately, he continued this with his new owners and he jumped out of his paddock and into a nature reserve. His owners searched and searched for him for weeks with no luck. Unfortunately they eventually found his corpse beside a railway track, presumably passed away from dehydration.

As tragic as his story is, I am glad he found a girl who doted on him and laughed at his antics.

Who is Lilli?

It was my late dad’s birthday this week, and one of my favourite photos came up. It is the only photo I know of where he has posed nicely for a photo… and it was with our pony Lilli. Lilli is a 13.1hh, 33 year old registered quarter horse, and still in my paddock.

Dad and Lilli (and Glen’s hind end)

Lilli was originally my sister’s. We went and saw this little fat dumpy pony that a saddle wouldn’t fit. My sister test rode her out in a swampy paddock bareback, with Lilli head up scared of the bit and frantically moving around not understanding much of anything. My sister came back and professed she loved her and just had to have her. And therein starts her story with us.

Lilli was born on a cattle station in outback Northern Territory and while sold ‘broken in’, I think the process consisted of putting a bridle on and sitting on her while they mustered cattle. She had no clue of anything.

My sister originally wanted to play polo x on Lilli, but she was too small, so with Shorty out of work, I took the reins and duties of training Lilli. She learnt that the bit wasn’t scary, all the aids and that she could canter under saddle. Lilli was the best student and tried her best always. I had to be careful not to put too much pressure on as she was so eager to please. I loved training her as she was much like Shorty in that aspect, and in a short period of time we were training lateral movements and competing in pony club, low level dressage and some show hunter classes.

Lilli loved to work and when I moved on to my next horse (another blog story), Lilli was very bored. We tried to sell her to a younger girl, but while Lilli was small and easy to ride, she wasn’t a childrens pony. My sister still can’t tell this one story without laughing. This young girl was trialling Lilli and trotting in a small area. She then turned her into the fence to stop her. Except Lilli did whatever was presented at her, so she jumped and sent the girl flying.

I moved from Darwin to Brisbane and brought Lilli with me to find a suitable home. We sold her to a family who promised the world and unfortunately fell very short. After promising to let us know if they were ever to sell her, I did a google search on her one day and found a for sale advert. I contacted them and she had already been sold down to Sydney. As fortune would have it, they contacted us back a few months later asking if we were interested in buying her back as the Sydney owners life had changed. With a quick call to mum, we said yes and booked her on the first truck we could back up to me in Brisbane.

Lilli arriving and saying hello to… Elvis (who she travelled to Brisbane with from Darwin all those years ago. He’s a couple of horses ahead in this story)

Lilli arrived, the life gone from her eyes, rude, long overrun hooves and a different pony. I started working with Lilli on the ground, got her hooves right (well the trimmer did) and her sparkle came back. She was 19yo a this stage, so we just wanted to look after her for the rest of her years.

Lilli has since done not much, except be a lawnmower, give the odd pony ride and side eye all the younger horses who are well beyond her wisdom.

She was trucked down here to Victoria with me 5 years ago and has proved that little Territory bred horses can infact grow a winter coat that resembles a yak.

Lilli has a bunch of nicknames… the real proof that a horse is loved. Lickle Pickle, Pickley Pony, Lil, Pickles and Blackboard (she sounds like Blackboard from Mr Squiggle when she is asking for dinner - sound here).

My first horse.

Horse welfare has been a large part of media lately and the social licence to ride is being questioned more and more. It is something I find myself thinking about more and more. The way I interact with horses is changing as new information comes out and upon reflection, it feels like I am un-learning a lot and going back to 13 year old me. When my ego was at its early development stages, trauma was minimal, my awe of horses was central and everything was a bit more black and white.

Enter MY first horse, Shorty. Glen was our first horse, as a family, but Shorty, he was mine. I still remember seeing Shorty from a distance at a show and falling in love with him instantly. In hindsight, he was a short-strided, flea-bitten (white with freckles) quarter horse attempting to be a show horse, but I thought he was heavenly. After a conversation and a trial, he was mine… and presented on my 13th birthday.

Shorty and I at our first gymkhana.

Shorty had been through bit of trauma before us, and his previous owner was trying to gain his trust back. She had leased him to a man who abused him until he was a pile of anxiety. The previous owner had helped him immensely, but what really helped was a small 13yo horse-mad girl who thought he was sent from the gods.

And that’s where our story started. Over time we learnt to trust each-other. I gave him grace to be nervous, gave him confidence to try things and I just loved him. What resulted was a connection i’ve never felt since. All I had to do was think something while riding and he would respond accordingly. He would have moved mountains if I asked him, he even played low-level polox when he was terrified of sticks and balls!

We went on adventures to cattle stations in outback NT mustering brahman bulls, jumping in dams, show-jumping, dressage, showing, beach rides, pony club, eventing, swimming in creeks and just having fun.

A few years into our journey, he injured himself in the paddock and with a long recovery time, I started riding my sisters pony, Lilli. He recovered from that injury and then during a particularly hot and humid ‘build-up season’ in Darwin, started to develop anhydrosis (the puffs). We acted swiftly and put him on steroids which thankfully worked, but I will never forget Shorty thinking he was then a stallion. He spent the next week trying to mount my sisters mare, and I had to keep his front legs bandaged incase she kicked out. The embarassment of living in a non-horsey acreage estate and having your horse out the front near the road, erect penis waving about, trying to mount the other horse!

As my competition ambitions exceeded his ability and I got my next horse, he stayed at home, enjoying paddock life and teaching mum a few things.

I grew into my late-teens and twenties, moving away, but always visiting. Every time I went back home, I would go out and call out to him, and he would call back out and come over. No matter how long between visits.

He lived until the age of 30, being pampered in his later years by my mum (and fed all sorts of sweet treats from my dad).

My childhood is filled with memories of this little freckled quarter horse and he formed the rider I became.

We spend so many years losing ourselves to societal pressures, traumatic experiences and patriarchy, until we either break or end up someone we’re not.

I think back on this time now, and that is what I want to go back to. That connection, love, trust, respect and unfiltered joy.

The start of it all.

It was my beautiful dog, Patsy’s birthday this week turning a big 5 (which is apparently the equivalent of 40 years, making us both the same age - nyaww). It had me being all nostalgic and thinking back over all our adventures and where life has led us. Obviously Patsy had zero say in having horses in her life, but unlike her I wasn’t born into a horsey family.

My sister and I were horse mad from a young age, cantering around (on-foot) the backyard, making jumps and pretty much “hobby-horsing”, before it was a thing (if you haven’t heard of it, be warned, it is a very serious sport now and they have championships all over the world…). We went to a riding school weekly, got our pony club certificates and convinced our parents that we could definitely have our own.

Smartly, our parents decided to lease a horse first through a riding centre. With their help we landed an old, underweight, rainscald ridden and leech bitten horse to take on. Probably not so smart.

Glen was a 15.3hh, 21yo arab x standardbred gelding. Red bay with a star and two socks. He had been around, seen many things and learnt much more in the process. Glen was as tough as they come, and he promptly picked up condition, grew all his coat back and the sparkle in his eyes returned.

We learnt the real basics of horse ownership with Glen… vet bills, horses having an opinion (especially older ones), saddle fitting, feed, more vet bills and most importantly how smart arabs are and how stubborn standardbreds are.

Glen was a real character. He was mostly very un-enthused about riding and would flop his bottom lip and ears like a goofball, making sure we were absolutely certain in our riding plans for the day. While kind, he had a cheeky side and regularly used it to his advantage. If we were jumping, or trail riding, or if he was just feeling fresh, his ears would prick forward (also a lesson every horse rider learns… pricked forward ears = “oh no”) and you knew you were not in for a relaxing ride. Even into his mid-twenties, he’d have his fresh days and would shy and bolt at whatever he thought might make a reasonable excuse… shadows and boogey men.

My sister and I convinced our parents to build stables and paddocks at home, and with that Glen (and our second horse, Shorty) moved in. Moving from the social stables to having horses at home was an initial adjustment, but very quickly we were able to witness their personalities on a more personal level.

As my sister and I moved onto other horses, Glen was ridden every now and again by our mum. Learning all the riding basics like eyes up and heels down (mostly so you could keep an eye on his ears and hang on when he shied).

Shorty and Glen (double dinking)

Living with them at our back door we could see the way they interacted with each other, their routines, their foibles. Who they were. And they became part of the family. On weekends Glen used to park himself under the verandah, and watch the tv through the window. We had to make sure all the doors were closed, because on a couple of occasions, he let himself inside the house and we had to figure out how to turn him around and get him out safely without spooking him or hitting a fan or wall or door! He (and Shorty) also loved all the treats that came with home life. Especially when my dad specifically bought packets of finger buns to watch them be inhaled.

Glen lived to the age of 30 and was the top of the herd until the day he died. I have so many amazing memories of him that still make me smile and giggle. He really was the start of it all and my affinity with arabs.

I started photography after Glen, but below are some arabs and partbreds for your viewing pleasure.