When the horse was King

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william williams

When the horse was King

Post by william williams » Tue Jul 24, 2012 4:47 pm

When the Horse was King

The old gidgee logs burned giving out it’s cheery glow as new chums sat around the camp fire enthralled, listening to the old bushman telling about the way things used to be, for it was not so many years ago when the horse was king and men blessed his attributes.
Most horses were good he told them but occasionally there was the odd rouge or villain like Curio or Sky Lark Jack, or Widow Maker just to name a few but this is a tale about one that was not often mentioned but he was there just the same, but his name was spoken with admiration or dislike, it just depended on who you were.


It all happened many years ago when I was a young lad not long out of nappies and my sister was then two years older.
One day we wandered down to the stock yard to where they had just captured a mob of brumbies that were as wild as could be.

My young sister and I stood there gazing at them and watching an old mare that had just given birth to her foal.
Her foal tried to get up on those spindly thin legs shaking all the time with the effort but was continually knocked down by the other wild horses, sis as I called her scrambled under the rail opened the gate to the other yard and I chased the horses out while sis helped that little foal to stand on his legs while his mother came over and suckled him.

The old mare stood defiant but showed no fear of sis or I as we sort of held the little fella up to drink from her.
That night dad was furious at what we had done; you two could have been killed by them wild horses he yelled.

The next day the old man declared that he might as well shoot the old broom tailed mare and her foal as she was far too old and the foal was too young and scrawny to be of any use to the horse dealer that annually came our way.
But sis and I yelled and screamed that much that he relented and turned her loose into the horse paddock.

The mare and her foal never went far away from the house where sis played in the yard, the old mare, she was sort of keeping an eye on her so to speak.
The foal he grew and grew and grew into a well developed stallion one to be proud of.
Sis, now ten could walk any where around the horse paddock which was a square mile and there right beside her would be the old mare and her foal that she named Mister. They would muzzle her and rub against her but would never hurt her.

They once killed a snake that came too near to her, yet if dad came near them they became wild horses straight away, only calming down when she came up to them.

One night during a rather wild storm the old mare died, it upset me a bit but it really upset my sister a lot.
Not long after that the old man decided that it was about time Mister was broken in.

Well I have seen many horses over the years that were bad, but you should have seen him. Kick, bite and scream, he was like a maniac, no way would any of the men go near him, yet sis could go right up to him and he was like a lamb. With her gentle way he condescended to have a saddle placed on him our best rider climbed aboard and lasted five seconds before he hit the dust.

After that many a rider came and they all ended up the same way, lying in a heap down in the dust
And so back to the paddock he would go, until some other smarty reckoned he could ride him but no person was ever good enough to ride that horse

Dad would rant and rave that he was no use and he must be sold. But you see, sis and I would not allow dad to get rid of him no matter what. He was ours!

Several years went by and one morning I harnessed up the old sulky and took mum to town leaving sis and dad at home while the men went to the far paddock to muster the bush cattle. While we were away there was a terrific storm.

Dad was across the billabong in the low ground, when a big branch came down on his legs smashing them, and pinning him to the ground, and the flood waters of the billabong started to rise and flood the ground where he lay.

Sis heard dads cry for help, but what could she do all the station horses were out with the men, and then she spied Mister.
Not thinking she saddled him, and then grabbing a rope she sprang upon his back, gamely he plunged into the rising water over to where dad lay.

Sis threw the rope over a thick branch of a tree then, tied it on to the branch which lay over dads legs then tied the other end on to the saddle she asked Mister to back up, like a well educated horse he did just that pulling the branch off dads legs allowing sis to pulled him free.
With the help of Mister she managed to get dad across the now flooded billabong to the safety of the homestead and made him comfortable until help arrived.
Nobody was ever allowed to attempt to ride Mister again, and for the rest of his life he dined on the best feed available.


Written by Bill Williams 10/ 6/ 06 ©
Last edited by william williams on Wed Jul 25, 2012 9:18 am, edited 1 time in total.

r.magnay
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Re: When the horse was King

Post by r.magnay » Tue Jul 24, 2012 4:59 pm

good onya Bill, is that a true story, or based on a true story or is it just a writing excersise?
Ross

william williams

Re: When the horse was King

Post by william williams » Tue Jul 24, 2012 5:08 pm

No Ross it is a true story embelished a bit. He was my cousins horse and died when he was 27 years old. Twenty days after old uncle died
co-incident maybe but uncle used to go out and feed him every morning. After Marrie moved to Melbourne and got married.

bill the old battler

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Re: When the horse was King

Post by Neville Briggs » Tue Jul 24, 2012 9:14 pm

Good story Bill.

It would be easier on my tired old eyes and brain if you separated the paragraphs by a couple of line spaces. :)
Neville
Singleton Bush Poets.

william williams

Re: When the horse was King

Post by william williams » Wed Jul 25, 2012 9:19 am

Is that easyer to read Neville

bill w

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Re: When the horse was King

Post by Maureen K Clifford » Wed Jul 25, 2012 10:11 am

Lovely yarn Bill - proves once again that animals know who love them.

Cheers

Maureen
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I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.

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Re: When the horse was King

Post by Neville Briggs » Wed Jul 25, 2012 1:40 pm

That's easier Bill. I don't know why it works but a bit of spacing seems to allow a pause in looking I suppose. For me anyway. ;) :)

The horse hasn't quite been knocked off the throne, we still measure cars in "horsepower".
Neville
Singleton Bush Poets.

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