by Kelly Wilson
We woke at sunrise to the noise of waves pounding on the shore and hurriedly packed all the blankets and bedding into the back of the ute before driving off. For the next hour we navigated the rough tracks that linked the beach and forest; often we found ourselves in a tight spot and were thankful that we’d done a 4WD course several months earlier. Once everyone had had a turn behind the wheel, we headed back to the beach. We’d planned to sand-board behind the ute on old oil drums, but this proved to be far more challenging than we’d anticipated — every time we hit a shell our legs would dart out from under us. After watching Amanda and me fail time and time again, everyone else decided to boycott the idea. We then drove for almost an hour along the beach, past seals and penguins, to reach Te Paki Stream, racing through the fresh water as we made our way inland. In the deepest water, one of the guys with us tried wake-boarding behind the ute, but even there it was too shallow — nowhere near as good as wake-boarding behind the ute up the river at home, or even the time he’d wake-boarded behind Argo at the beach.
With both sand-boarding and wake-boarding counting as epic fails, we headed back to the horses, loaded them up and took them to the beach for a ride. We planned to race the horses against the Isuzus in the ultimate test of horse-power; while we had no doubt which would win, we were all keen for a good gallop along the beach. Shyla had now been out of the wild for just 10 weeks, but had improved in both strength and condition and felt confident beneath me. Vicki rode Spotlight bareback and bridleless, and Amanda fooled around with Bragg, asking him to rear on command before saddling up and following us along the firm sand to warm up. Once the horses had stretched their legs, we headed down the beach and lined up beside the ute. Cody, who was behind the wheel, gave us a false sense of accomplishment by going easy to start with; for the first few hundred metres Vicki and Amanda held their own against the ute, although Shyla quickly fell to the back, her little legs unable to keep up. Tired of teasing us, Cody put his foot to the floor and accelerated past us. Laughing, we pulled the horses up and gave them a pat, more than happy to admit defeat.
We are always careful to keep a good balance between work and play, not only for the horses but also for ourselves. Without fail, getting outside and doing something new revitalises us — and this trip was no exception. Away from technology, routine and pressure, we are able to live in the moment and remind ourselves of the most important thing about life: it’s supposed to be fun. Throughout our childhood the lack of money and therefore technology meant that we sought adventures outside; rivers, waterfalls, mounds of dirt, mud puddles and swamps became our playground. Many times we would sleep out under the stars or build huts in the bush, and even now we haven’t lost our love for the great outdoors and are happy to rough it.
On our way back from America the previous winter, we’d detoured to Alaska with friends to explore the last frontier. As is so often the case with us, a lack of planning and a lot of spontaneity left us stranded at the airport with no vehicles available to rent — apparently you’re supposed to book months in advance in that part of the world. Our options were limited to public transport, something that would take a lot of the spontaneity out of our normal way of travelling. We took a taxi to the closest backpacker’s and holed up for the night and in the morning, while walking to town, we passed a U-Haul furniture removal office. Darting inside, I asked whether they had a truck available; they did, and we settled on a price — just US$370 for an eight-day rental (down from US$880), and even better we didn’t have to return it to Anchorage but could deliver it to Seward from where the next leg of our journey, a cruise to Vancouver, was leaving. This was a much better deal than the thousands it would have cost for a car and hotels, or a motorhome, and we seized the opportunity to hire the truck; it would not only provide us with transport but also give us somewhere to sleep.
Our next stop was Walmart, where we spent US$75 to buy enough blankets, pillows and foam pads for all of us. We’d done much the same thing on our great American road trip with the Mustangs that had finished just a few weeks earlier. Comfort and luxury were not our priority; our money was far better saved for adventures. The U-Haul truck was a glorified metal box, and that first night we froze. Already hours away from the only town in the area, though, we never did find a place to buy more blankets, and every night we wore layer upon layer of clothing — and even then we shivered. Surviving the discomfort was half the adventure, though, and we never considered booking into a hotel room or eating out every night at restaurants; we cooked food in tin foil over campfires, or grabbed something ready to eat from the supermarket.
Having budgeted for a regular rental vehicle, we now had money to spare. Over the next week, we took a helicopter trip, flying over glacier lakes and swooping down waterfalls before landing on a snow-covered glacier, where we mushed huskies and raced snowmobiles; it was a wonderful experience. From there we drove south, stopping at a wildlife refuge to see moose and bears, before taking a cruise around 26 glaciers in Prince William Sound and marvelling at the array of marine life we saw. Eventually we wound up in Seward and had another once-in-a-lifetime experience: hiking to a glacier, then rappelling into ice crevices and rock-climbing back out. Most of us thoroughly enjoyed it, but it was traumatising for Amanda, who was scared of heights; after we’d bullied and cajoled her in to trying a smaller crevice, she refused to attempt another. Our final adventure in the land of snow and ice was kayaking around glaciers in Bear Lake. Our timing couldn’t have been better. A huge earthquake had carved huge chunks of ice off the glacier and we kayaked through the mist, awed by the floating blue, white and, at times, black icebergs that rose out of the water.
Amanda and I husky sledding on Knik Glacier in Alaska.
Ice climbing on Exit Glacier in Alaska, one of the best experiences of my life.
CHAPTER 19
Final Preparations
Amanda riding Ballarat on the farm at sunset, four months after being touched for the very first time.
The Australian Brumby Challenge was now fast approaching, and since only one of the Brumbies had had a significant amount of ridden work; things weren’t looking promising. While we personally don’t put time limits on our horses’ training, we were all too aware of the trainer contracts we’d signed for the challenge — we’d agreed to return our Brumbies to Australia at the designated time regardless of the level of training they’d reached, at the very least to compete in the halter class and be auctioned off. Both Vicki and Amanda were stressed at the thought of an auction, feeling that neither Zali nor Ballarat was ready for re-homing. We were in a dilemma. It would be in the best interests of the horses for them to remain in New Zealand and spend longer with us; if the competition had been based in New Zealand we would have happily showcased them, purchased them back and continued training them before matching them up with the right home later on. Unfortunately, however, the added cost of purchasing them and flying them back to New Zealand after the competition would be $7000 per horse; this level of expense was impossible to justify, especially for Zali, who wasn’t even worth $500 because of her soundness issues and age.
Unlike Zali, Ballarat was suitable for re-homing, although it was important that she was matched up with the right home to ensure that her training could continue; unfortunately, with an auction there was no way to guarantee this. Ballarat needed a small, gutsy rider who was used to training young ponies. Amanda would have loved to have paired her up with Shanti to produce over the next year as a Show Hunter pony — not only would it give Ballarat a lovely home, but it would also allow her to be prepared for a lifetime of young riders. It was at times like these that we really worried over the auction process, because we knew just how important it was to pair ponies and horses up with the right homes, especially wild ones.
We often have people come to try horses who sound fantastic on the phone or look competent when riding their own horse, but this doesn’t translate to a new horse — on something new, their timing and feel is off and th
is causes things to go wrong, resulting in a loss of confidence for the rider and giving the horse an undeserved reputation for being difficult. More common, and perhaps less well recognised, is how grass, hay and feed at a new property can affect horses’ behaviour, making them spooky or highly strung. This is often why horses can undergo a complete change in personality after being purchased, but this is overlooked far too often. Another major issue is saddle fit — far too many horses develop bucking or rearing problems because of saddles that put painful pressure on their spine, either through a lack of knowledge on the rider’s behalf or due to poor advice from saddle-fitters.
Dan, our equine skeletal therapist, working on Zali’s poll.
Ballarat returned to ridden work very reactive and Amanda fell off her twice.
When a horse changes property and owners, many variables change. A horse’s entire lifestyle, paddock companions and what it eats are all affected. On top of this, they go through the confusion of trying to learn new aids from their new riders. It’s never an easy transition, and too often people take their new horses for granted, expecting instant results. Mum and Dad brought us up from childhood to understand that it takes six months to get used to a new horse and two years to get the best out of it. Because of this, we’d ignore them misbehaving or performing poorly, work through the issues and strive to build a partnership that would ensure in two years’ time we would be able to achieve what we were aiming for. Success any earlier than that was always a bonus.
Over the years we’ve seen far too many good horses ruined by being sold into the wrong homes; once bitten, twice shy. Vicki once sold one of her champion Show Hunter horses, who’d been one of our favourites: a sweet, safe and easy horse who was as kind as he was successful. After passing two vet checks with flying colours, he settled into his new home well. Initially we got wonderful feedback: he was perfect to ride and they loved him. A few months later, however, we were shocked to hear — indirectly — that the new owners thought we’d sold them a dirty bucker. It was the first we’d heard of things going wrong; we tried to ring to arrange to visit the horse and find out what had happened. It was completely out of character for this horse, and we were desperate to see whether he was okay. It took some time and some convincing before we could arrange a visit, and when we got there the horse was obviously sore. A poor saddle fit wasn’t helping, so we suggested that they get him seen by a vet or physio, and we also sent down the Stubben saddle we had ridden him in, to use until they could get their own.
Unfortunately he continued to worsen and, while we had no moral or legal obligation to take the horse back, we did eventually manage to do so, to ensure that he would have the care he needed. It had been almost a year since he’d been sold and months since we’d last seen him, and when he walked off the truck we were horrified. Once sweet and full of life, he was now so unsound and structurally unbalanced that he could barely walk. For the next year he rested in a paddock; it took that long before he would accept cuddles again or seek out human companionship. Unfortunately, that year saw little improvement in his soundness and we made the difficult decision to put him to sleep. An autopsy showed that he had broken part of his pelvis, which had then healed crooked. Most likely it had started as a small fracture which had then completely broken when the new owners had continued riding him; it was no wonder that he’d started bucking. The failure of the new owners to think about what might be causing his behaviour, rather than just punishing him for it, had not only cost the horse his life but had also put him through much pain and trauma.
Stories like this are why we dedicate so much of our time to understanding what makes a horse happy. If we can pick up on injuries within a day of them happening and give them time to heal, then the horses often only require a few days off, as opposed to months or years. More importantly, we can prevent a lot of discomfort and long-term damage. By taking the time to check that every horse we start and ride is pain-free, we are able to produce happy horses that love their work. This has enormous benefits — because they love their work, they do it well. Our horses have personality and character, enabling them to communicate with us. If they come out of the paddock grumpy one day, or begin refusing jumps, we begin searching for reasons. Horses don’t just wake up one morning and decide to be bad; if they are doing something out of character, there’s generally a reason why. The better you know your horse, the greater your ability to pick up on small issues before they become major problems.
Zali photographed three days into her handling.
Zali, 100 days later, looking far more relaxed and significantly healthier.
For example, when time hadn’t done much to improve Ballarat’s swollen glands, we began looking at her more closely. We first checked and then treated her for ulcers, something that is common when horses have recently changed food or properties, and we checked for allergies. Immediately we noticed some improvement, and Amanda began to work with her again.
TIME WAS FAST RUNNING OUT FOR THE BRUMBIES, as we were just a few weeks off Equidays (one of the biggest equestrian events in New Zealand, with numerous competitions and clinics), and as part of that we’d been preparing a performance with our wild horses; something to showcase all three breeds. Although all three Brumbies were making an appearance, only Shyla would represent Australia in a Battle of the Breeds competition we had devised. She would compete in a series of challenges against Bragg the Mustang and Argo the Kaimanawa, and I began training her specifically for this.
The event, which was based on Mostest — one of the games we play during our camps — was designed to highlight everything the horses could do well. While all three horses didn’t need to be able to do everything, at least two of them did so that there would be something for the crowds to enjoy. Most of the challenges were decided on the basis of what Argo could do. He was a favourite with the public, having won Fan Favourite in his original wild horse challenge, and since then having performed in front of thousands of people. Having the most time in domestication gave him another advantage; we figured that, like the All Blacks, it was almost a given that Argo would win on home soil. The ridden challenges for the horses included Best Canter to Halt, Best Side Pass, Best Reinback, Best Rear, Best Lay Down, Best Turn on the Haunches (or Spin) and Best Jump — these were all things that Argo could do in impressive style, needing neither a bridle nor a saddle. As Bragg could rear on command, I decided to forgo that category for Shyla and just focus on the basics. She already knew how to do most of the challenges, so it was simply a case of refining them. The only one she didn’t know was the lay down, and I asked Vicki to assist me with training her.
Amanda and Ballarat out on the trails.
Shyla and I jumping in front of some of her fans.
Vicki met me at the arena and I settled in at the side, expecting a lengthy training session. To everyone’s surprise, Shyla was down on the ground within a few minutes of Vicki picking up her front leg. We gave her a huge pat and a handful of feed. Over the next few days we asked her to lie down a few more times and each time she aced it, although she never really got the hang of just staying on the ground — each time, she would start rolling in sheer enjoyment. It had been 100 days since she was mustered from the wild, the same length of time we’d had to train the Mustangs for the Extreme Mustang Makeover, and I was confident that Shyla would be ready to be showcased in front of thousands of people.
CHAPTER 20
Future Focus
Shyla and Nina cantering out over the farm.
Ten-year-old Nina’s third time jumping Shyla.
Amanda jumping Ballarat over an oxer for the first time.
Following our Far North adventure, Shyla’s training had changed direction. I was focusing on her future rather than the present, and there was plenty to consider. As part of the Australian Brumby Challenge, trainers are allowed to purchase their Brumbies for A$1200 — but they have to decide whether to do this a month before the competition. Otherwise, the Brumbies are entered in the
auction catalogue and if trainers change their mind they then have to bid against the public. Vicki and Amanda also needed to make decisions about their Brumbies, and with both having such minimal training it was an even more difficult decision.
After selling my Mustang, Jackie, through an auction process and never meeting her new owners, I was hesitant to sell a horse this way. We’d found the auction stressful because of the unsure outcome; and because I was both proud of Shyla and quite attached to her — which is almost impossible to avoid when working with wild horses — I wanted to consider all the options so that she would have the best future possible.
Bringing her home to New Zealand after the auction would entail a cost I couldn’t justify, yet I couldn’t be sure of finding her the right home in Australia. With Shyla at only 13.2 hands high, I had known from the outset that she wasn’t suited to be ridden long term by me, and so every aspect of her training was aimed at having a child own her. Because of this, Shanti and Gaia’s friend Nina had ridden Shyla quite a few times to make sure that she was ready for a little human to love her.
Seeing Nina on Shyla just felt right; there was something about them as a duo that seemed to click. Nina had a lovely position, soft hands and a love for horses that reminded me of myself growing up. Even more importantly, Shyla loved Nina; each time the girl went out to the paddock to catch Shyla, the mare would meet her at the gate, nickering. Nina could saddle her up by herself and would ride Shyla out to the arena for a lesson; they also enjoyed lots of adventures, swimming in the river and playing in the bush.