WARTS AND ALL
Jinny was removed from the Barmah Forest as a foal when she was around five months old. It was at the time of a severe drought, when everything was dried out and feed and clean water were in short supply. Starving and alone, she followed a group of trail riders to their camp begging for a share of hay. She put up no resistance to being haltered, fed and watered alongside the other horses, and although the best efforts were made to locate her family herd, the riders found no evidence of them. Sadly, the riders did find other starving and weak horses in some areas of the forest that they were unable to help because they were either too far gone or there was no way to get them out. In the words of one of Jinny’s rescuers, ‘It really was a life or death decision. If we left her, she would have died!’ So they loaded her onto their float and took her home with their other horses.
Initially, Jinny stayed with one of the kind ladies who’d rescued her and was handled by the woman’s husband, who had experience training their Sport horses. They found they didn’t have time for her as well as the horses they bred, showed and trained, so they advertised her in the Victorian Brumby Association’s newsletter as a private sale to a good home.
About a year earlier, I had dreamt of a bay mare that would come to me and teach me something, not just about horses but about life. My Warmblood was ageing and I had a young family; I was no longer interested in competing with horses and instead wanted a family companion. I had visited the Victorian Brumby Association sanctuary a few times and felt a Brumby should be my next horse. When I saw the ad I recognised my ‘dream horse’ and made the phone call.
My family and I drove to the rescuer’s farm to see Jinny. At first glance she was a pretty bay with two white socks on her hind legs. Up close, she was full of anxiety and bit everything within reach. I rode her and she went well as long as she was with her owner, although I didn’t make that connection at the time. When I led her she tried to bite at every opportunity—she was clearly a pent-up ball of energy. I began to realise the learning curve was going to be steep. I was immersed in running a small business while also raising a young family. But my husband was supportive and I naively felt that my thirty-five years of horse ownership and years of lessons would provide me with the tools I needed to work with and provide a home for this little Brumby filly. And when I turned to look at her there was that sense of recognition again—so we bought her. She was then two years old.
Image 31: After a rough start, Jinny is becoming a happier horse.
During the three-hour drive home, her feet were firmly planted on the floor of the float and she neighed all the way. She had been separated from both her original family in the Barmah and now her rescuers and she was clearly beside herself. At home, it took hours before she would come out of the float. She took one look over her shoulder and didn’t know who we were or where she was, so she did what I would come to recognise as a Brumby behaviour: she put on concrete shoes and pretended not to be there! Lesson number one for me: Brumbies are not like domestic horses.
We enlisted the aid of a more ‘experienced’ friend and basically lifted her off the float, for which Jinny has never forgiven my husband. Lesson number two: Brumbies have long memories.
Looking back, I believe she was having some kind of emotional breakdown by the time she got to us but we had no idea why. Was she traumatised at the thought of losing another home and family? Was she mistreated by someone? Only Jinny knows the real answer, but she threatened with teeth and heels whenever we went near her. My first attempt to feed her was met by a bite on the back while filling her bucket. She needed space and made no bones about it. The rule books went out the window. After much thought and many efforts to gain her confidence I resorted to the same tactic that worked with my little daughter: I stopped using my brain and opened my heart. My sad little Brumby got it instantly.
It’s hard to explain, but once you know who you are (warts and all) and what you want, Jinny does too—and respects that. She is brutally honest, a real litmus test of your confidence and inner knowledge. We spent many hours just sitting in her paddock while she eyed us off, grazing closer and closer, eventually making contact gently in her own time.
I found it difficult to know how to go on with her training in a way that would encourage her to keep her personality while also setting fair boundaries. By this time she had been with us for almost two years, and was three and a half and feeling strong. We found a highly recommended trainer and let him work with her. Watching, I felt she was bullied and punished for any mistakes, not allowed to make an offer and explore in her own way. I had never noticed a horse respond in this way before. She shut down again, becoming wooden. The trainer criticised my technique of working with her but I finally saw that, with this horse, technique was nothing, intent was all.
I was more careful when seeking out another trainer and found Carlos Tabernaberri, a Brumby in human form! He helped me to push without punishing, in spite of her heels and teeth in his face! We got results and it was joyful to see Jinny’s sense of achievement when she found the right answers. At home, I spent time just hanging with her whenever I could to try to get to know her. At one clinic we discussed her history as she showed a sensitivity around a scar on her side. Carlos suggested she might have been chased by four-wheel-drives. This is evidently a ‘sport’ in the Barmah Forest and might have also caused her separation from her family.
There was a period around this time when we were struggling with family ill health. We decided to take a short holiday and came back to a terse note on the door about Jinny’s behaviour, with a vow from the pet sitter never to go near her again. This was not the first time this had happened, and it always took Jinny a good while to get over these episodes. I believe she was as traumatised as the pet sitters by whatever it was that happened! It’s likely she objected to the stranger in her territory and was simply doing her best to protect herself. But as a result of all the challenges around me at the time, I began to seriously wonder if she would be better off being put down, whether I was big enough to provide her with what she needed or whether I was just kidding myself. I knew I could not send her off to another home for it all to happen again. As I sat in her paddock, looking for the answer, Jinny came up beside me, head down, blowing gently in my ear and nibbling my hair. I looked at her, eye to eye, and knew right then that she wasn’t going anywhere...
After three years, lots of love and patience, and good advice from Brumby lovers like Carlos and Colleen O’Brien from the Victorian Brumby Association, we think Jinny is pretty happy to be around us now. She likes her people, but only her people! When we go away, we have a great horseman, John, who comes and takes care of her, so she is still happy when we return home and nobody gets upset. Strangers get shown the gate very quickly. For those who would like to be in her circle, they have to be up to her very high standards to qualify! She wants you either to lead, follow or get out of the way. If you don’t know what category you want to be in, Jinny is happy to make the decision for you!
We know now that taking on a Brumby is not a decision to be made lightly. Brumbies want all of you, body, heart and soul, in return for the 200 per cent they offer in return. Ownership of a Brumby means taking on responsibility for their emotional health as well as the physical. You are choosing to replace, and become, their family—in every sense of the word.
I’m sure Jinny is where she wants to be now: loved and safe, with her food bucket, rug and Shetland pony buddy to push around, and in the paddock next to my bedroom window. I shouldn’t forget to mention her two bathtubs: the high one for drinking and the low one for splashing! I am truly grateful to her, bless her little white socks, for showing me that love is the universal language regardless of species. Yet, our journey is not over. There is more to learn, a deeper bond to make.
Image 32: A stallion ensures the safety of the herd.
Image 33: Mares move deeper into the forest seeking a midday summer nap.