He’s a Lemon

“He’s a Lemon!”. Yep, that’s what my husband said as we stood at the vet clinic looking at my meticulously planned and long awaited foal that had just been born.

After buying Audrey, I spent the next 8 years researching bloodlines and stallions that might go well. Donnerhall was definitely up the top of the list, a particularly good mix with Jazz and thoroughbred lines. And so I picked a local stallion by the legendary sire himself. Audrey went in first insemination and I watched this embryo and Audrey’s belly grow until little Lemon finally arrived. Lemon, is actually named Lennon, after the late John Lennon, keeping the theme of famous personalities.

Lemon was born small, a bit malnourished and unable to figure out how to drink. After he didn’t meet his milestones within the first couple of hours, I rushed them to the vet clinic where he had some plasma infusions, learnt to drink and started to thrive.

He was cheeky, smart, dramatic and a people person from his first days. This has not changed.

Lemon was a real time waster and I taught him all the things about being a civilised horsey citizen. The easiest way was through food. Apart from his first moments of life, he has always been… rotund. I remember friends telling me that he’ll drop weight once he stopped drinking off Audrey, but… he never did. As a foal I used to worry he would choke. He would inhale (and I mean inhale!) his hard feed so quickly, he would gasp for breaths. This has also remained the same!

Lemon had his first big life change, moving down to Victoria, and after a dramatic start trying to jump out of the truck bay he settled and travelled well. He was accompanied by everyone he knew - Audrey, Elvis and Lilli.

Life on the farm down here was not really his thing. While he loved the space and freedom, he was brought up with stables and people and attention and hard food and affection at his (well my) doorstep.

During my first year in Victoria, I was in lockdown, my husband stuck in Queensland, and I lost 3 of my beloved long-term animals, including Elvis. Lemon’s youthful exuberance and naivety was the cause of Elvis’s death and something he has learnt from and never done again. With my heart and head shattered, I stepped back from horses, and most specifically Lemon. Lemon felt this change in my energy and since then, we have been piecing our trust and relationship back with eachother. I still feel some guilt to the way I made him feel during this time.

As life settled down and I healed, I started Lemon under saddle lightly and he enjoyed being the centre of my universe again. We moved to our new farm and he arrived and loved it. While life, renovations and flooding winter and spring seasons slowed any real progress with Lemon down, he also decided to start walking hoof by hoof in his mothers footsteps and a series of injuries began.

As the vet visits and trips started, I began to realise just how much like his mum he is. His kind and willing nature shone through when he was absolutely terrified of floating to the vets and being treated with medication and cut open and stitched up. He is a boy version of his late mumma. When Audrey left this world, I promised her I’d look after her Lemon, and I live by that.

He is perhaps my biggest life lesson, in forgiving what might seem unforgivable, and opening my heart back up to one that shattered it.

My sweetest Daudy Belle

Oh Audrey… Where do I start?! …At the beginning, I guess.

I bought Audrey as a then 2yo as my first “proper“ dressage horse to train right from the beginning. She was beautiful, elegant and exactly what dreams are made of. I brought Audrey off a video from the horse Stud I worked at with Ellie May. I broke my “must see them in the flesh” rule, but trusted the breeders and laid my eyes on her for the first time as she stepped off the truck, travelling from the Southern Highlands to Brisbane.

Audrey arrived as a gangly almost 2yo, and was everything the video promised. I took the next 12 months getting her used to being a 'pet' and teaching her voice cues. I mouthed her (bridle), taught her to lunge and long rein and then decided to give breaking in a go with long distance mentoring from my coach. Us two novices worked it out together and our ridden journey began.

You had to be 100% focused working with Audrey, she was a primadonna in every sense of the word. Every single emotion was heightened. Loving and cuddly, falling asleep in your arms when tired (or in your lap if lying down), trembling like a leaf when scared and bucking at tree branches in the paddock when excited. She wore her heart on her sleeve and overthought e.v.e.r.y.thingggg.

Her jump and movement was magic to ride. She was powerful and electric and always had you thinking you could rocket launch into space (together and sometimes just you lol). It was always a balancing act, constantly walking the tightrope between too little and too much, and never completely balanced. Intimidating, but highly addictive!

While we never really ventured into the ridden competition scene together, learning how to work with a horse so complex is one of the most rewarding (& sometimes heartbreaking) experiences I have ever had.

Horse owners will know that there are the tonka tough ponies that get through virtually vet free and then… and then there are those like Audrey. There were so many injuries and incidents, I really can’t remember them all, but the one that sealed her riding career I watched happen on the morning of our wedding.

Going down to feed everybody in the morning and do some last minute checks, she decided to run up the paddock, see the fence last minute, go skidding through and fall over. While she got up straight away and looked like nothing was wrong, we went on to figure out that she had broken 3 vertebrae in her wither and did a bunch of soft tissue damage to one of her fetlocks/pasterns. She mostly healed and I brought her back into work, but she was never the same and eventually I conceded defeat and put her in foal to produce my next horse.

Audrey went in foal first go and after a couple months started showing exactly how human mothers feel in pregnancy. She didn’t want to leave her stable, just wanted to sleep and eat and be cosy. As the pregnancy progressed (trimester 2 and 3!) she came out of her stable and lived life again, keeping me on my toes until her foal was born 2 weeks late.

I was there for the birth of her foal, Lennon (next blog), and it was one of the most beautiful memories I will ever hold. You can watch the birth here.

Ever the teacher, Audrey showed me the true bond between dam (mother) and foal. Might as I try to stop them depending on each other as Lennon got older, she always acted like his mother. When he was gelded in the paddock outside her yard (as a yearling), he had general anaesthetic and gently fell to the floor… Audrey, watching us all intently, screamed out and began pacing up and down. I had to leave the vets and console Audrey until the procedure was complete and he awoke and stood up. He walked over to the yards (grogily) and she was nickering, checking him all over to see if he was ok. Up until her fateful day 6 years later, she was always protecting Lennon and watching out for him and it has made me re-think my beliefs and everything about how we manage horses.

While I tried to bring Audrey back under saddle after Lennon was born, her injuries prevented us and she ended up properly retiring and enjoying her life in the paddocks, being the diva she was and hand fed and mollycoddled daily. When I would try to leave her paddock and she wasn’t done with me, she would power walk past and stop directly infront so I had to continue giving her attention, scratches and cuddles.

She was always up for cuddles.

At the age of 16, Audrey developed a neurological condition due to an unknown cause. In the middle of a big thunder and lightning storm, I was out in the paddock with the vet, beside her as she took her last breaths.

My sweetest Daudy Belle and biggest teacher. The world is so much bigger than we realise.

Short intermission

I thought i’d put in a short (pun intended) intermission here with a pony I rode for a few years. My next actual horse story is another sad one, and it felt a bit too dark to write after Elvis’s.

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When we arrived in Brisbane and I found myself without a horse to ride/train/compete due to Elvis being out of action for so long, I took to the internet and found myself a show pony!

When I first went and met PeeWee I didn't realise how small 12.1hh actually was... it is tiny! So I tediously rode him and this guy was… very very broken! He is the stiffest, laziest, most unwielding horse (pony!) i've ever ridden. After 5 minutes I was exhausted and puffing like i’d run a marathon... My legs ached from trying to keep him going, my arms ached from constantly trying to soften his braced neck and I was struggling to catch my breath.

I was told a very brief run down of Pee Wee’s history, to which some or all was true, but in any case, someone (or many) had scarred this pony so much he was terrified of the bit and any pressure from the reins and had pretty much shut down to all communication from the rider. So what did I do, but agree to train and compete him.

I started riding him once per week, with his owner lunging him once or twice. Our first shows were… interesting, but somewhere along the line he decided to take a chance on me and we became a pretty formidable team.

We went out and had a ball, laughing at judges and spectators questioning my age (they thought I was a child, when I was in my twenties). We won numerous champions and held our own against horses triple our size, winning three Australian Titles.

As I started to ride Elvis again and train with my new coach, we started dabbling in pony dressage and were training medium level, with only 1 ride per week.

Over the few years, Pee Wee and I got to know each other pretty well... I knew exactly when his owner snuck him rice bran oil (a bit like rocket fuel) and he knew he could trust me enough to let loose and have a little fun every now and again. Fuelled by rice bran oil, he’d have a few yee ha moments and i'd just laugh at him and continue on with no ramifications (and then tell the owner to stop feeding it to him… again!).

2 of these photos were saved over 10 years ago from AJL photography, who I can’t find online.

As I moved more into dressage, started Audrey under saddle and my late dad passed away, I focussed more on me and my horses and ran out of time for Pee Wee. Pee Wee was leased out and later sold to a child to enjoy. I believe he had a pretty great end to his life.

I almost bought a pony instead of Audrey because of how much fun I had on this lil guy. And I still miss riding him to this day.

Below are photos of another little welsh pony I had the pleasure of photographing a few years ago.

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.)