EQUINE SECRETS
Posted: Fri Sep 23, 2011 8:41 am
The sites a bit quiet so thought I might post this which is an old but true story.....another horse story abut 7 abandoned horses that were in a paddock across from my old home at Stanthorpe. We worked out that these horses were around 25 to 30 years old and another neighbour told us they had been in that paddock at least 10 years and that Secret used to be the owners daughters pony club mare...said daughter was now well into her thirties.
Just prior to the stallion having to be put down as he had cancer another chestnut mare I had named Duchess also died. She had foundered twice and we had got her up but one night she just slipped away. That was the catalyst behind the rescue. All the horses were re-homed at Moranbah, the two grey mares went to homes just as pets and lawn mowers they were too old to be ridden other than at a gentle walk. My then partners son kept Ziggy the new foal for his kids along with Secret, little Thunder and Savannah. Savannah sadly died from snakebite some time after this. Thunder never made it past pony size - a severely limited diet from the day she was born and no extra minerals or supplements meant that she was just small.
The sad part of this story IMO was that these horses were all Arabs with good blood lines apart from Secret who looked to me to be an Australian stockhorse - gorgeous fine boned graceful animals that could so easily have been given a better life that what they got. Another grey Arab mare Princess who was about 25 was still used for mustering sheep by the bloke who owned them - no great speed required from her just a steady poke along behind the sheep to bring them in - so why the others drew the short straw I don't know...I suppose originally they were his kids horses and as they left home the horses were no longer required and just put out to pasture and forgotten. In times when there was plenty of feed and water around they managed but in the middle of the drought with barely a skerrick of grass in their paddock they were slowly starving to death.
EQUINE SECRETS
They were just a bunch of horses that we passed most every day
in the paddock 'cross the road from our front gate.
One yearling and a stallion and three flea bitten greys,
one tiny foal who seemed to be stunted in every way.
There were Arab bloodlines evident, in gait and tail and head
the little foal stuck close to Mum and followed where she led.
The Stallion long past his prime, ribby and undernourished..
A look of sadness on their faces. They were all discouraged.
Now old, unwanted and abandoned to their fate.
The paddock had no shade, save some small trees along the creek,
and no shelter from the cold winds so unkind..
We used to drop in cane tops, carrots and corn twice a week.
They'd wait beside the fence. Soft muzzles puff and seek
out every single grain of corn that fell upon the ground.
Here the drought was hitting hard, very little grass around,
and all of these horses hungry and all doing it tough.
Once strong and willing workers, but no longer loved enough.
Put out to pasture, their own sustenance to find.
We saw the Stallion founder, and raced to get him on his feet.
He rose bravely, trembling legs and sweating hide.
He stood there, brave head hanging. He was no longer fast or fleet.
And you had to think that to him now, maybe death would be sweet.
The old mares gathered round him, all willing him to live
as if some of their failing strength they willingly would give
to him. But anyone could see that would never be.
He was at the point of no return. Soon he would be free.
With a bullet a sad end to equine pride.
Enough, no more. This Farmer must face the reality
that for these horses he had no use any more.
We had family who would offer willing hospitality,
removing these proud animals from the brutality
that had marked each days existence, just abandoned to their fate
as they struggled for survival ..what a way to treat a mate.
Three old mares, a foal, a yearling. Lovely horses in their day.
Just abandoned in a paddock. How could he them betray?
We would go and approach him. There were options to explore.
“If you can catch them you can have them” he agreed with great disdain
“For they are of no use to me, to old to ride.
The younger ones I have to say I've never even named.
They've bloodlines good, nothing of which I've ever been ashamed.
The chestnut colt’s unbroken he can't be halter led.
The foals no foal, just small, no doubt she's been underfed;
but it must be eighteen months or more since first she saw daylight
the old girl dropped her in that paddock on a wild and stormy night.
I'll be pleased to see them go” he did confide.
We walked them through the paddock, and put them in the race.
It was a warm and sunny winter day.
We took then nice and quietly..at a slow unhurried pace
with a corn tin tantalizingly just inches from their face.
It was obvious over time we had built up a rapport,
and luckily the three old mares had been floated before,
with a little coercion they walked straight up the ramp,
the youngest girl quite flighty..being just a little vamp,
but she too followed Mum. Now they're away.
This story had a happy ending the five horses did us proud
after a slow and steady trip to Moranbah.
The youngest one named Thunder, and her grey Mum we called Cloud
Old girls Jasmine and Secret made the journey with the crowd.
The chestnut colt Savannah we named for the open plains,
old Secret the bay surprised us all – she had a secret to explain.
She was in foal to the Stallion and nobody had guessed.
Three days after she arrived with a bay colt she was blessed.
We named him Ziggy..he was our little star.
Maureen Clifford © 2007
Just prior to the stallion having to be put down as he had cancer another chestnut mare I had named Duchess also died. She had foundered twice and we had got her up but one night she just slipped away. That was the catalyst behind the rescue. All the horses were re-homed at Moranbah, the two grey mares went to homes just as pets and lawn mowers they were too old to be ridden other than at a gentle walk. My then partners son kept Ziggy the new foal for his kids along with Secret, little Thunder and Savannah. Savannah sadly died from snakebite some time after this. Thunder never made it past pony size - a severely limited diet from the day she was born and no extra minerals or supplements meant that she was just small.
The sad part of this story IMO was that these horses were all Arabs with good blood lines apart from Secret who looked to me to be an Australian stockhorse - gorgeous fine boned graceful animals that could so easily have been given a better life that what they got. Another grey Arab mare Princess who was about 25 was still used for mustering sheep by the bloke who owned them - no great speed required from her just a steady poke along behind the sheep to bring them in - so why the others drew the short straw I don't know...I suppose originally they were his kids horses and as they left home the horses were no longer required and just put out to pasture and forgotten. In times when there was plenty of feed and water around they managed but in the middle of the drought with barely a skerrick of grass in their paddock they were slowly starving to death.
EQUINE SECRETS
They were just a bunch of horses that we passed most every day
in the paddock 'cross the road from our front gate.
One yearling and a stallion and three flea bitten greys,
one tiny foal who seemed to be stunted in every way.
There were Arab bloodlines evident, in gait and tail and head
the little foal stuck close to Mum and followed where she led.
The Stallion long past his prime, ribby and undernourished..
A look of sadness on their faces. They were all discouraged.
Now old, unwanted and abandoned to their fate.
The paddock had no shade, save some small trees along the creek,
and no shelter from the cold winds so unkind..
We used to drop in cane tops, carrots and corn twice a week.
They'd wait beside the fence. Soft muzzles puff and seek
out every single grain of corn that fell upon the ground.
Here the drought was hitting hard, very little grass around,
and all of these horses hungry and all doing it tough.
Once strong and willing workers, but no longer loved enough.
Put out to pasture, their own sustenance to find.
We saw the Stallion founder, and raced to get him on his feet.
He rose bravely, trembling legs and sweating hide.
He stood there, brave head hanging. He was no longer fast or fleet.
And you had to think that to him now, maybe death would be sweet.
The old mares gathered round him, all willing him to live
as if some of their failing strength they willingly would give
to him. But anyone could see that would never be.
He was at the point of no return. Soon he would be free.
With a bullet a sad end to equine pride.
Enough, no more. This Farmer must face the reality
that for these horses he had no use any more.
We had family who would offer willing hospitality,
removing these proud animals from the brutality
that had marked each days existence, just abandoned to their fate
as they struggled for survival ..what a way to treat a mate.
Three old mares, a foal, a yearling. Lovely horses in their day.
Just abandoned in a paddock. How could he them betray?
We would go and approach him. There were options to explore.
“If you can catch them you can have them” he agreed with great disdain
“For they are of no use to me, to old to ride.
The younger ones I have to say I've never even named.
They've bloodlines good, nothing of which I've ever been ashamed.
The chestnut colt’s unbroken he can't be halter led.
The foals no foal, just small, no doubt she's been underfed;
but it must be eighteen months or more since first she saw daylight
the old girl dropped her in that paddock on a wild and stormy night.
I'll be pleased to see them go” he did confide.
We walked them through the paddock, and put them in the race.
It was a warm and sunny winter day.
We took then nice and quietly..at a slow unhurried pace
with a corn tin tantalizingly just inches from their face.
It was obvious over time we had built up a rapport,
and luckily the three old mares had been floated before,
with a little coercion they walked straight up the ramp,
the youngest girl quite flighty..being just a little vamp,
but she too followed Mum. Now they're away.
This story had a happy ending the five horses did us proud
after a slow and steady trip to Moranbah.
The youngest one named Thunder, and her grey Mum we called Cloud
Old girls Jasmine and Secret made the journey with the crowd.
The chestnut colt Savannah we named for the open plains,
old Secret the bay surprised us all – she had a secret to explain.
She was in foal to the Stallion and nobody had guessed.
Three days after she arrived with a bay colt she was blessed.
We named him Ziggy..he was our little star.
Maureen Clifford © 2007