by Kelly Wilson
This little piggy went to town on the farmer’s lambs,
This little piggy rooted crops and trees,
This little piggy wallowed and destroyed river banks,
This little piggy ate the eggs and young of our native species,
And this little piggy deserves to die!
WHILE I WOULD LOVE TO SEE THE BRUMBIES SAVED, I don’t think I could justify this being at the expense of the life of other animals. National Parks and Wildlife Service aims to maintain a balance across all of the species in the protected areas, annually removing about 800 horses, 900 deer, 1800 pigs, 2000 foxes and 1300 wild dogs.
It also amazed me that so many people who were against ground-shooting or aerial culling of the wild horses could accept these as control methods for other animals. It got me thinking: what is it about wild horses that inspires people to champion their cause so strongly? In the grand scheme of things, the number of wild horses that get culled — while excessive in Australia — in no way compares to the number of domestic horses slaughtered, which again would be only a fraction of the cattle, pigs and chickens that are bred and killed each year for their meat. Why is one animal revered above another? Trophy hunting of animals is acceptable for species such as rabbits, ducks, deer, elk, moose, mountain goats and pigs, yet shooting a wild horse causes an uproar. While I was relieved that wild horses weren’t allowed to be stalked and shot by hunters, it did make me wonder how people who oppose horses being killed this way can accept it for other animals, many of which are as intelligent and as prone to fear and pain as horses.
After an image of a hunter posing beside a Brumby he’d shot and killed with a bow and arrow had gone viral just a few months earlier, many pictures of slain Brumbies were posted on social media. In one, a hunter posed next to a heavily pregnant mare he’d just shot. The image caused international controversy but did nothing to stop the killing; just a week later, a father and son stumbled across a field of slain Brumbies, including a stallion and his mares. Every 10 years or so, the controversial culling of Brumbies receives attention internationally, but although there’s a huge public outcry each time, nothing changes; people soon forget about the issue until it resurfaces 5, 10 or 15 years later.
As the Sydney protest came to an end we felt overwhelmed — the plight of the Brumbies was so highly controversial that we couldn’t visualise a good outcome. While the Snowy Mountain Brumby population was then at a manageable number and we were confident that a sustainable solution could be found, they represented only a very small proportion of Australia’s wild horse population. Who was there to act as the voice for the others, the Desert Brumbies? Was the public even aware that Desert Brumbies were gunned down from the skies by the thousands, or frequently died from starvation or dehydration during droughts because of local over-population? Equally challenging was the large number of camels that continued to roam through the same regions, or the mind-blowing number of kangaroos — about 25 million — which were protected because they were a native species (although up to 20 per cent of the population may legally be killed each year for meat by licensed kangaroo shooters).
While the number of Brumbies initially seemed daunting, a look at the size of the land mass of Australia — most of which is uninhabited — puts it into perspective. In America at the turn of the twentieth century, over 2 million wild horses roamed over a smaller area. It chilled me to imagine the trauma and mass killings endured by the wild Mustangs as that number was brought down to just 26,000 by 1971; the population has since doubled in size, even though hundreds of thousands have been caught and taken off the ranges.
It’s statistics like this that make me feel relieved that New Zealand’s wild horses reached just 2000 at the peak of their population and that their management over the past 20 years has resulted in a herd size of just 300 in the Kaimanawa Ranges. Only 150 need homes every two years, a tiny fraction of the horses culled in Australia over the same period.
Jay Podger’s guitar, hand-painted with the legend of The Man from Snowy River, during his song ‘Save the Snowy Brumbies’.
Alexa and I with young protesters, whose lives have been changed by their work taming Brumbies, holding photos of the wild horses they have worked with.
CHAPTER 17
From Wild Brumbies to Kids’ Ponies
Ballarat’s very first canter with Shanti.
Arriving back home to have Shyla greet me at the gate, asking for attention, was one of the most rewarding feelings I have ever had. She’d been left completely untouched while I was away, and for her to initiate contact now spoke volumes about her nature. While I’d been gone, Vicki and Amanda had made great progress with Zali and Ballarat, and I enjoyed catching up with them and seeing how the horses were coming along. Zali had relaxed hugely, and, although Vicki hadn’t ridden her since her first walk on the beach, her handling was coming along well. She was now saddled and had spent the week being led around the farm and the arena by Vicki on her palomino Spotlight. Although mentally Zali was ready for more, Vicki had slowed things right down as her poll and neck had become swollen following the dental work and she was ultra-sensitive around the head area. To prevent her becoming head-shy, Vicki kept Zali’s handling to a minimum, avoiding anything that would upset the mare and require her to use contact on the rope, which would in turn cause the halter to apply pressure on the swelling.
One thing Vicki was able to work on was picking up Zali’s hooves in preparation for a trim. Now that the mare was confident having every inch of her legs brushed, picking up her hooves was easy and she stood calmly in the stable, with no halter or rope holding her, while Vicki trimmed both her front and her back hooves. It was a far cry from Zali’s wild antics in Australia only a month earlier when Vicki had tried touching her legs for the first time; the mare had spent more time rearing than standing on all four feet.
With Zali’s head so sore, Vicki’s ability to train her was essentially on hold while she healed, and Mascot, her Kaimanawa, was also showing significant structural issues that limited how much work he was capable of. Once again, Vicki wasn’t having much luck with her wild horses. Luckily her focus was able to turn to her team of showjumpers. The start of the showjumping season was now only a month away and she had 10 horses gaining fitness and strength for the first show of the season, many of which were young four- and five-year-olds preparing for their first competitions.
Ballarat, though, was improving every day. When Gaia and Shanti came to stay, Shanti would work with the young mare, and Amanda was hugely impressed with how well Ballarat responded to such a small rider. For Shanti’s fifth ride on her we loaded all the horses onto the truck and trailer and headed to the beach. I rode Shyla, Amanda walked beside Ballarat and Vicki was on Argo, her very special wild Kaimanawa from the 2014 muster. Alexa, Paula and some friends also joined us on an array of young showjumpers and wild horses at various stages of training.
We started by heading out along the grass verges, making our way down the quiet beach road to the estuary before walking around the point and along the ocean beach. Halfway down the beach, we came to a stop while the young horses, one at a time, first trotted and then cantered. I hopped off Shyla and let one of the young girls ride her, so that I could take some photographs. When it was Ballarat’s turn, Amanda kept a close eye on her as she trotted in circles following Shyla and her rider. Feeling that Ballarat was ready for her first canter, Amanda clipped a lead rope onto her halter and ran as if her life depended on it, finally getting up enough speed that the little pony broke into her first canter; she was as relaxed as anything. After repeating the canter a few more times, Amanda set Ballarat loose, and Shanti circled her around and then cantered back up the beach towards us.
Ballarat had done remarkably well considering that it was just her fifth ride ever with a saddle and her very first canter; even more so with an eight-year-old rider rather than a professional trainer. There were very few, if any, wild horses that we would have trusted with a child so so
on out of the wild, especially for such a big milestone; it was a testament to Ballarat’s nature and also to the level of skill and feel that Shanti had developed while training with us over the past six months.
At home the following morning, we gave Gaia and Shanti a lesson riding the Brumbies. Even Gaia, who was about 30 centimetres shorter, 25 kilograms lighter and 15 years younger than me, looked big on Shyla. It was a huge eye-opener for us. We’d set ourselves the goal to make these ponies suitable for children by the end of their 150 days of training; initially I’d thought this was ambitious, but now, looking at the ponies, it seemed completely achievable. We realised that our sole focus now needed to be on childproofing these ponies if we wanted them to have any sort of quality of life. Because of the auction process we would have little to no control about who they would go to, so they needed to be suitable for any level of rider; most likely a younger child, because of their size. At that moment, we agreed that we wouldn’t teach them anything unnecessary, like going bridleless, lying down or working at liberty (without a lead); although these were things that might win a ribbon in the freestyle final, they would not be a deciding factor in how successfully the Brumbies would transition to their new homes.
It was a bit of a shame, as Shyla was so easy and quiet that she would undoubtedly have excelled going bridleless; in fact, I’d attempted it a few days earlier. She’d been super, working with just a rope around her neck to guide her, solid as a rock as I carried the Australian flag billowing in the breeze. However, I knew that if I pursued the bridleless work I would need many sessions to perfect it for the freestyle class. I mentally crossed it off the list as unnecessary, as in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t a skill she needed to know. Every minute of my time with her was far better spent establishing a solid foundation to set her up for a successful future as a kid’s pony.
Watching the girls riding, from the centre of the arena, we could see plenty of room for improvement in the training of both ponies, but more importantly also their potential. How many ponies with just a month under saddle could walk, trot and canter easily with young Shanti and Gaia on them — let alone wild ones that had not been touched by humans until just six weeks previously?
Once both ponies were thoroughly warmed up, we got them working over poles laid on the ground, trotting over them while maintaining straightness and rhythm. Shyla, who’d been over her very first jump just a few days earlier with me, was brave and willing, and Ballarat followed closely behind; although a bit unsure, there wasn’t any hesitation. Once they were consistently trotting over the poles, we built the fence up to a small, 30-centimetre crossbar and again the ponies came around, this time jumping it. By the end of the lesson they were happily trotting up to a 60-centimetre wall, landing in a canter and then coming back to a walk on a loose rein on the other side.
Shanti trotting and cantering Ballarat on the lead, in preparation for her first proper canter.
Shyla and our two Kaimanawas, Mascot and Instigator, trotting out of the waves after a winter swim.
Over the next month, work continued. Winter was now in full force, and mud and rain was making riding unpleasant; the farm was too wet to ride on, so the horses were mostly being ridden on the arena or along our country roads. To prevent her going footsore, Shyla was shod and I strove to keep a balance between work and play. On some days our focus would be on walk-trot-canter transitions, learning to accept a soft touch on the reins or developing lateral work, and on others I’d ride her out in a halter and canter down the beach with the showjumpers, often giving her three or four days off between rides.
Ballarat’s education had come to a halt; the glands in her neck had become swollen and she was highly sensitised and reactive. Previously anyone could have caught her, but now she began to dodge people and would leap in the air if something moved suddenly behind her. Twice Amanda had to jump off her rather than fall off when Ballarat had been startled by something. In many ways, she was completely unlike the pony we’d let the kids near just a few weeks earlier. Hoping that time off would allow Ballarat to settle, Amanda gave her a few weeks off, only catching her to change her cover or paddock.
After three weeks, Amanda began working Ballarat again. She was a classy pony, and soon, although not as quiet as she had been, she returned to ridden work, first short walks on the arena and then beach rides, trotting and cantering along the sand with Nell, a small 16-year-old who was training at our property. While fairly well used to the saddle, Ballarat was still unpredictable at times; once, at the beach, Nell dismounted to take off her hoodie and when she remounted, the pony took off quickly. Nell, who was unprepared for the sudden movement, landed behind the saddle and lost her balance, falling to the ground. Amanda spent a lot of time going over Ballarat’s body, searching for reasons why she’d changed so much from her more relaxed state; feeling that the mare wasn’t yet 100 per cent, she turned her out in the paddock again.
Zali, too, was getting very little work. The swelling in her head, neck and poll had worsened considerably — both the dentist and the vet were concerned that so much time had passed with absolutely no improvement, and her handling was difficult unless she was on pain-killers. The only positive was the obvious improvement in her body condition; once gaunt, with every rib showing, weeks of CopRice, hay and grass had allowed her to blossom.
Nina’s first ride on Shyla.
Amanda and Ballarat enjoying a quiet moment.
Still concerned about the obvious swelling, Vicki got the dentist back six weeks after Zali’s teeth had been done to check them again. Astonishingly, her perfectly re-aligned jaw had locked up again — the problem tooth having done a year’s worth of growth over the past month and a half; something that is incredibly uncommon among horses. Once sedated, Zali’s teeth were aligned again and then she was turned out in the hills with Argo and Spotlight, two of Vicki’s friendliest horses, in the hope that time off and friendly paddock companions would allow her to heal without turning feral.
Although Zali couldn’t be ridden, she spent lots of quiet time hanging out with Vicki or being led out on rides.
Sixteen-year-old Nell’s first ride on Ballarat.
CHAPTER 18
Wild Adventure
A herd of wild horses grazing among the felled pine trees in Aupouri Forest in the far north of New Zealand.
Our camp site for the night, sleeping in the sand dunes on Ninety Mile Beach.
A herd of wild horses in the Aupouri Forest.
Bragg rearing on command, one of his favourite things to do.
Spring was soon upon us, and with it came a desperation to escape on an adventure. We’d initially planned to spend a few days with some friends in the Far North, riding the Brumbies out in search of the Aupouri wild horses that lived there. Unlike the Kaimanawas, these horses aren’t managed, and over the years their numbers have escalated to over 1000; the largest herd of wild horses in New Zealand. The only problem was that we were short of two useful Brumbies, as they recovered, and had only Shyla to hold the fort. Deciding that the trip would be just as special if we took three different wild horse breeds, we chose Argo and Bragg to join us. Then, just a day before we were due to leave, Argo pulled up lame and Vicki loaded her palomino Spotlight onto the horse trailer instead.
Three hours later we had the horses settled in a paddock, the trailer unhitched and had headed off-road in the Aupouri Forest to look for wild horses. It didn’t take long — within minutes, we found a small herd on the side of the road. Continuing on, we searched for a larger mob, and finally, in the distance, saw two herds of about 20 horses, nestled among felled pine trees. Parking the vehicles, we slowly inched our way closer and stopped on a rise overlooking the horses. A few curious ones approached and we settled down to watch them; seeing wild horses interacting with each other and observing their behaviour is one of our favourite pastimes.
With the sun low in the sky, we left the horses behind and bumped along rough sand tracks towards the beach. F
or the next hour, we raced along Ninety Mile Beach at low tide, searching for a quiet place to spend the night. A track off the beach looked perfect for our needs; although the crashing of the surf was bound to keep us awake and the westerly wind was probably going to give us a cold night, we loved the idea of watching the sun set over the ocean. With only a few minutes left until sunset, we parked on flat ground and quickly set up camp. We’d never owned a tent, having always slept in the horse trucks or out under the stars, and although the temperature was supposed to drop to just 1°C overnight, tonight was going to be no different.
Amanda, Vicki, Nell and Paula spread out a tarpaulin and tossed blankets and pillows on top. Alexa took the back seat of the ute with a few of our friends sleeping bunk-style in the tray, and I slept in luxury by myself in the SUV; with the seats folded down, a single mattress easily fitted in the back, so not only did I have a spacious and comfortable sleeping area but I was also out of the wind.
After setting up our beds, we walked down onto the beach below and lit a campfire to cook dinner over, while our friend Cody played his guitar. It was a great evening, spent reminiscing over the highlights from the past year and discussing our dreams for the future. We finished by roasting marshmallows over the last of the flames, then tossed sand over the embers before scaling the dunes and settling into bed. Already there was a chill in the air, and we all layered on more clothing before closing our eyes.