by Paula Boer
Approaching at a walk Ben tried not to scare the animal further. Its enormous eyes and hooked beak swivelled to meet him. “A hawk-owl! You poor thing. What am I going to do with you?”
Normally if Ben found a small creature injured on the road he would put it out of its misery though this bird was far too big for him to kill easily. Besides, Ben thought there may be a chance to save it. Dismounting a few paces away and tying Brandy to a tree, Ben removed his T-shirt to act as a cover. He knew the strong talons could inflict serious damage if the owl tried to defend itself.
Creeping closer Ben murmured to the owl in a vain attempt to keep it calm. The panicked bird flapped harder and tried to hop away. Ben could see that the bird’s legs were also hurt.
Making a dash, he threw his shirt over the owl and wrapped it tightly to prevent it struggling. “Now what? It’s a long way back to the farm.”
Believing Harry’s hut should be in the next valley and remembering he’d promised to visit, Ben decided to try and find his way to the secret glade. Although this wasn’t where Harry had promised to mark the trail Ben thought he might be able to find a hidden track.
After leading Brandy along the highway until they crossed the old road that wound through the mountains back to Mirraburra, Ben realised it was going to be a long walk. Already his bare skin burned on his back and shoulders. He needed to get into the shade as soon as possible for both his sake and the bird’s. The owl would already be suffering from dehydration from struggling on the roadside. Ben had no idea how long ago it had been hit. As the blood on its wing felt sticky he presumed the accident had been recent.
Struggling to hold the owl under one arm he collected strips of ribbon bark and wound them around the bird to fasten his shirt as a straightjacket. Climbing into Brandy’s saddle he balanced his precious cargo across the pommel. Able to make a quicker pace he rounded the base of the mountain spur and followed the creek towards Harry’s hut. He recognised the place from the times when he and Louise had lunched at Kingfisher Lake and returned over the ridge to meet up with the old road.
As he neared the headwaters of the waterway that had diminished to a trickle Ben spotted a large spherical boulder. The rock had been recently moved and dried branches had been strewn around the fresh earth. Wondering how he had never noticed these signs before Ben peered over the boulder. A track became obvious a few metres further into the trees. Navigating around the obstacle he decided to travel the remaining way on foot, sure he was on the right path to Harry’s hut.
Brandy nudged Ben in the shoulder, impatient with the slow pace. Ben flicked the end of the reins with one hand at the brumby’s nose, forcing the horse to take a step back and walk at a respectful distance. “Careful. I don’t want to drop this owl.”
As he tucked the injured bird under his arm it struggled once before lying still. Ben hoped he hadn’t hurt it more than it was already damaged. He suspected it had been shaken out as the loggers felled its roosting tree. The owl would have been disoriented by the daylight, trying to look for a safe perch. Instead it must have been hit by a truck as it flew across the highway in a panic. Ben despaired at drivers who didn’t stop to see what damage they had inflicted when encountering animals on the road.
Ben strode into the deserted clearing around Harry’s hut. He hadn’t considered Harry might not be home. Ensuring the ties still held tight Ben laid the wrapped bird in the shade near the handmade rocking chair.
No heat emanated from the open hearth, which meant it had been a while since Harry had boiled the billy or cooked his breakfast. The door to the little cottage stood closed. There was no sign of Jenny. Not even Lucky, the tame wombat, snuffled around. While Ben knew that most wombats were nocturnal, Lucky seemed to have adjusted his routine to fit in with Harry after he had been rescued from a trap.
A family of magpies rested in a banksia near the cottage. They carolled a loud song, no doubt hoping for a feed. A pair of crimson rosellas also perched nearby. From high in a nearby gum tree, a sulphur-crested cockatoo dropped pieces of stick. Ben suspected that, being unafraid of his presence, all these birds had been helped by Harry.
Unsure what to do Ben tied Brandy to the rail where Jenny usually stood. The stallion pulled against his tether in an attempt to reach the few wisps of meadow hay on the ground.
“Hold on, I’ll loosen that.” Ben removed Brandy’s bridle and lengthened the rope from the halter, which his horses always wore when they were out.
Sliding the saddle off, Ben hefted it over the rail. The brumby’s back was slick with sweat. Knowing there was a barrel of rainwater at the back of the cottage Ben fetched a bucket and used a handful of grass to scrub off the worst of the saddle mark. As he finished scraping off the excess water Brandy jerked up his head and whinnied, almost knocking Ben over as he spun on his front legs. “Steady, mate. What’ve you seen?”
The grey mule emerged from behind an old rusted plough that Harry used as a rack for drying his herbs. “A visitor! You found us then.”
Ben left his horse and went to greet Harry. “Yeh, from the south side. I worked out the trail from what you told me even though it’s not where you marked. I was worried I’d missed you.”
“I’ve been out gathering raspberries. The native ones are small and take a lot to make a meal, but I love them.” He removed a basket from Jenny’s back and showed Ben his harvest.
While he helped Harry unload the mule of firewood, herbs and a fresh trout, Ben explained what had brought him to the hut. “I hope you can save the owl. I don’t know how badly it’s injured.”
“That’s why you’ve no shirt on, eh? Well, let’s have a look at the fellow.” After turning Jenny free Harry lifted the owl and removed Ben’s T-shirt. Draping a soft skin over the owl’s head to prevent it from becoming more stressed he cradled the injured bird in his left arm.
Ben hoped the loose mule wouldn’t get too close to Brandy as he wasn’t sure how the stallion would cope. Glad to see that Jenny ignored the hay that Brandy had returned to eating, he relaxed. “Do you want some clean water to wash off that blood?”
“Good idea, lad. I see you’ve found the bucket.”
When he returned with the water Harry asked him to collect a short strong stick. “I’ll be able to splint his broken leg. I’m not so sure about the wing. Here, hold him while I give him some water.”
The owl didn’t struggle except for grasping Ben’s arm with its talons. “Ow! They’re sharp.”
Harry passed Ben a possum skin from his pocket. “Use this to protect yourself. This is a powerful owl.”
“Yeh, I can tell.”
“I mean that’s what type it is. They’re classified as vulnerable, another reason we must stop that logging. They need old trees to nest in. Replanting the forest won’t bring back their homes.” Harry rummaged in his other pocket and withdrew a plastic syringe.
Amazed at the variety of items that emerged from Harry’s pockets, Ben balanced the owl on one forearm while restraining it with his other hand on its back.
Harry used the syringe to trickle water into the animal’s beak and sponged off most of the dried blood from its feathers. After twenty minutes of careful administration Harry placed the owl in a cardboard box under the shelter of the lean-to where he kept his firewood. “I’ll keep that hood on and let him rest for now. He’s had a bad shock. We can try to feed him before you go. Now, how about a cuppa?”
Knowing that he should get back to the farm to help John, Ben hesitated. It would be a while before the fire would be hot enough to make tea. “I’m happy with water, thanks.”
Shrugging his shoulders Harry pottered about lighting the fire anyway. He pointed out to Ben where a couple of tin mugs hung from a hook on the outside of the cottage. “Grab them. You can have water, but I’m having peppermint tea. I found some fresh by the lake this morning. Water cress, too. It’ll be a good season.”
&n
bsp; Squatting around the fire Ben chatted to Harry about his ideas about finding work for himself and Brandy. “I need to do something if Dad sells the farm. There won’t be money for me to go to college even if I don’t have to work the place.”
Harry listened, stroking his beard. “If you want to show what you can do you should enter Brandy in the high country race in February. It takes a tough combination of horse and rider to succeed in that. Lots of folk’ll be there that might be interested in hiring you.”
Ben had long dreamt of entering the annual cross-country race across the mountains. “Isn’t Brandy too young? And I don’t know if his leg would stand up to it even though he seems really good.”
“He’s five isn’t he? Old enough. And if his leg can’t do the race he won’t be able to work hard either. It’ll be a good test.”
“Yeh, I guess so. We went up to the peak above your place this morning so I could see how far the logging went. I was on my way to talk to the guys down there when I found the owl.”
The friends chatted for a while longer. Ben agreed the race sounded like a good idea. “How long is it? It goes over at least three ridges, doesn’t it?”
“Forty kilometres.” Harry stoked the fire and hung the blackened tin he used to boil water on the tripod. “The winner last year took two and a half hours. That’s fast for that country. He passed the vet, though, so I guess his horse was fit enough.”
Ben rocked back on his heels. “Wow! I doubt we’re ready to do that.”
“You’ve got time to get him fit. Lots of long, slow, hill work. Keep a record of his heart rate so you know how he’s going.” Harry went on to give Ben more advice about training Brandy.
By the time Ben headed for home his head swam with information about horses’ temperature, pulse and respiration. He had no idea there was so much to learn or that Harry knew so much about getting horses fit. Keen to test his and Brandy’s skill and stamina against the mountain Ben hoped to prove that he and his horse were up to hard work. It seemed the only way to prevent Brandy from being sold or destroyed.
Chapter 7
Dust rose from Honey’s hooves as she trotted circles in the indoor arena. Louise wanted to sneeze. Instead she concentrated on balancing on her knees, her weight forward over her horse’s withers.
Patti stood near the line of white cavaletti, the cross-ends positioned so that the poles rested at their lowest height. “That’s right, keep your hands soft. Look ahead between her ears.”
The awkward position gave Louise a stiff neck. She tried to arch her back, which made Honey slow down. As her seat had no contact with the saddle Louise could only push her horse forward with her legs. Her calves flapped as she tried to keep Honey in a working trot.
“No, no, no. Keep soft! There’s no point waving your legs around like that. Come over here and I’ll show you.”
Disappointed that she couldn’t get Honey working the way she wanted, Louise halted next to Patti. “I feel so awkward. It’s hard to balance and keep her going too.”
The instructor rearranged Louise’s legs and hands. “You’ll get there. Practice will give you strength. When you get the feel you’ll wonder how you ever couldn’t do it. Now go wide and trot a straight line towards the poles. Go into the forward seat a few strides out.”
Louise had started teaching Honey to jump while out in the park. Leaping over streams and fallen logs had come naturally to the brumby. Navigating artificial obstacles in an indoor arena was a different matter. “Can’t I try a proper jump rather than these poles? If we canter she’ll keep going and I’ll be fine.”
Patti twitched the end of the lunge whip at Honey’s rear end. “I’ll keep her going for you. You focus on yourself. She needs to learn to balance herself with a rider. That’s very different to what she does running around in the paddock or the park with you. You need to learn not to interfere with her action.”
As Louise concentrated on riding as she’d been told, Honey extended her stride. It felt to Louise like the horse hovered in the air over each cavaletti, suspended in slow motion. With a bump she sat back in the saddle. “It feels really weird.”
“I think you’re trying too hard. Let me clip the lunge rein on and I’ll drive her over those crossed red poles. You concentrate on moving your upper body forward as she rises. Tie your reins in a knot and fold your arms.”
With Patti in control Louise felt more comfortable as she didn’t need to worry about controlling Honey. As she neared the small jump she stopped rising to the trot and sat for two strides, pivoting her body up out of the saddle as Honey launched into the air. The mare leapt as if she were clearing a metre high fence rather than two poles she could step over. Despite being unseated Louise regained her balance without unfolding her arms.
“See? You can do it.” Patti already had Honey moving on to the next jump.
“I felt like I was going to fall off. She took a much bigger leap than I expected.” As Louise listened to Patti’s instructions, sweat trickled down her face and the dust tickled her nose. She rubbed her face on her shoulder, which twisted her body. Honey veered to the left and ran out at the next attempt.
The lunge whip cracked making the brumby surge forward. Louise grabbed at the pommel to keep her balance. By the time she regained her seat they had approached the red cross-poles again. This time she squeezed with her legs as Patti directed, telling the mare when to jump. Being further back from where she had taken off before, Honey had no need to leap high and cleared the obstacle with minimum effort.
“There. Now try it on your own without me chasing her.” Patti unclipped the lunge rope as Louise untied her reins.
For the next twenty minutes Louise trotted over the cavaletti and jumped the cross-poles. By the end of the session she could ask Honey to take off at the exact line drawn in the sand by Patti, shortening or lengthening her horse’s stride to ensure she arrived at the correct location.
“That’ll do for today. Give her a wash down and come into the house for a cold drink.” Patti patted the mare and slid open the doors back to the stables.
Louise joined Patti in the kitchen and accepted an icy lemonade. She left sweaty footprints across the cold tiles as she padded in her socks to the kitchen table. “That was hard work.”
Patti placed a plate of biscuits on the table. “You did well. You should be smiling. Don’t look so glum.”
Sagging into a chair Louise sighed. “I can’t bear the thought of having to sell Honey. What if someone else doesn’t look after her like I do? I wish the Naylors didn’t have to sell the farm. It’s awful for Ben, and he could have looked after her for me.”
“When do you leave for Africa?”
“At the end of January. Dad wants us to be there before school starts. He wants me to advertise Honey for sale now. What am I going to do?” Louise dropped her head in her hands with her elbows resting on the table. She felt an arm round her shoulders as Patti drew her chair close.
“I’ve been thinking about that. Why don’t you ask Ben if Brandy can serve Honey? She can stay here with my mares to have her foal. When you come back you can train the youngster.” Patti went on to explain that one more mare wouldn’t make much difference to her work load, even without having Louise to help her.
Louise sat up and wiped her face. At first the idea seemed great but then reality set in. “My parents will never let me keep two horses. Even the costs of one are bad enough when I’m working here to pay for Honey’s keep.”
Rising to refill her cup, Patti waved away the issue. “It’ll be a business arrangement. When the foal is old enough you break it in and train it. We’ll sell it as a well-schooled horse and split the proceeds. That way I get the cost of its keep covered and you get something for your efforts. Maybe you could share that with Ben, too, as his stud fee.”
Excited about the prospect Louise thought through the plan. “Co
ol! That could work. I can’t see how Mum and Dad could object to that.”
After their break Louise threw herself into mucking out stables, all the while thinking through Patti’s suggestion. She couldn’t wait to tell Ben and see what he thought. After agreeing to a late start the following day she cycled home to ring Ben. Mrs Naylor answered, saying Ben was out with the cattle. Louise arranged to turn up for a ride early the next morning.
As Louise propped her bike against the tack room, Ben led Brandy and Jake into the stables. Knowing their regular places the horses headed into their respective boxes as Ben threw their lead ropes over their necks. Before Ben had a chance to follow and remove Brandy’s headcollar the stallion had his nose in the empty feed bin in the corner.
Louise closed the door behind Jake and laughed as he also snuffled for food. “They can’t be hungry with all the grass in the paddocks. Surely they must know by now they have to work before getting fed?”
Ben latched the half door of Brandy’s stable and greeted Louise. “They’re always hopeful that one day I’ll change the routine.”
The warming sun caused Louise to remove her outer shirt that she’d needed for the cycle to Tumbleford Farm through the early morning mist. “It’s going to be a lovely day. I only have a couple of hours as I need to get to Patti’s later.”
“That’s okay. I have a heap of work to do anyway. Let’s make it a hard fast ride.” Ben went on to explain his plan for getting Brandy fit for the high country race.
“That suits me. Can I see Peach and Eve first?” Louise hadn’t spent any time with the foals since Ben had shown her how Harry helped Eve to stand.
Changing direction, Ben crossed to the hay barn and slid open the door. Ned and Eve shared a hay net, the older horse tugging out large mouthfuls with the filly munching up the wisps he dropped. “I found her standing on her own for the first time this morning.”