TWINKLE, TWINKLE, MY LITTLE BRUMBY STAR
For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved horses. As a kid, I rode anything that I could—dogs, tree limbs, anything that resembled a horse! My first real horse ride, however, was with the help of Billy, our stockman. Billy was Aboriginal and a very kind horseman who taught me to respect horses. I used to drive Billy mad with my nagging to ride with him all the time. Eventually, he’d relent and then give me lessons on his beautiful big grey Stockhorse. I don’t think Billy minded all that much and neither did his horse.
Billy wasn’t the first person I nagged about horses, though. From the time I could talk I nagged my father to buy me a pony. Like most dads, he was generous and loving, but I had to earn the right to have a pony of my own. This meant doing small jobs around the place like feeding the chooks and dogs—the sort of things common to ask of a young child. Luckily, being an animal lover, they were chores I loved.
When I was four years of age, my dad bought me a Shetland pony. She was a cranky little miss who would bite or kick at the slightest excuse. When I was seven I graduated from her to a lovely little Welsh mountain pony. She was a grey mare and aged well into her twilight years. One day we found her suffering from colic. I was there when they put her down, in the bush. The vet explained everything to me and why she had to be put to sleep. In my family, we were not spared the reality of life, but still, I cried for days. She was my pony.
A couple of years later when I was nine, a friend of my father’s had Brumbies running on his property. He notified everyone in the area that he was bringing in as many as he could and he wanted to sell or give them away. My dad had the idea to get me a young one and have Billy train it for me, so off we went. When we arrived we saw about forty horses yarded and they weren’t bad types either. You see, out where I came from, the cockies valued a good working horse—hardy and sensible—because they often had to drove stock onto the roads and in times of drought. These Brumbies were well suited to the task.
I approached the yards and saw a weedy-looking little bay filly. She was still ‘on the mare’ but they guessed her to be around six months old and able to be weaned. Well, right or wrong, I wanted her and no one could sway me otherwise. When I looked closely she had the saddest eyes. To this day, I can read what’s happening with a horse by reading what is in its eyes.
My father gave in to my pleading and he got a couple of other Brumbies for the property as well. They were all loaded onto the truck with my Twinkles. I called her that because she had a little white star on her forehead. They made the trip from the property west of Bourke in outback New South Wales with no problems. Twinkles was put into a paddock with a lovely old nanny mare for company. I fed her every day—after I’d done my schoolwork of course—and it took about four weeks for her to settle enough to come to me. Because I was so young, I always had to have someone with me, as everyone was worried that I would get hurt. I was a tomboy though and nothing frightened me.
Billy started training Twinkles when she was two and he didn’t ride her until she was nearly three, only doing light stuff around the place. She was easy to train and a very gentle girl with a lot of sense. I wasn’t allowed to ride her for a good twelve months because I was only ten—my dad was adamant about that. He did put her into work on the property, just gentle stuff to start with, and it was as if she already knew how to do the cattle work. Twinkles was very intelligent and fast to head off a breaking beast. At only 14hh, she surprised them all—Dad, Billy, everyone! Eventually she outworked most of the other horses and did so without an ounce of fizz or nastiness.
This early training laid the foundation for me to be able to do almost anything with Twinkles. Her mouth was soft like butter and she was so responsive to the leg. She had a lovely personality and she would let you know with a tail swish when she didn’t want to do anything or give a sour look with her nose all wrinkled. It made us all laugh because there was never anything serious in her threats!
When I started riding her she was a true lady and behaved so well that I decided to take her to the pony club at the next property. It was just a meeting for the surrounding properties’ children and adults to get together once a month. After the third or fourth time, she really got the hang of this fussy stuff I was asking her to do, like hacking and a little jumping. She loved the working cow horse, handy horse and trail classes the best. I even won a few hacking and handy horse classes with her!
As it did for all School of the Air pupils back then, it came time for me to go away to a real high school and I was billeted out to a beautiful Italian family in Western Sydney. It was my first experience of being at an actual school and I hated it. I was so homesick and so badly wanted to be with my Brumby pony Twinkles that my father had to do something. He didn’t want me to leave school and luckily a friend of my father’s needed to pick up some cattle in Penrith, so he loaded Twinkles onto the cattle truck and we agisted her at a property on the outskirts of Sydney. I cried my eyes out when I saw her. Having Twinkles nearby helped me settle down at school and she spent the next five years close to me.
After I finished school I headed back home to the bush. In those days, the only real way to transport a horse was by train. There weren’t many horse transport options available, but luckily I got to ride in the same train carriage as Twinkles and together we made the long trip home.
Twinkles and I had such a wonderful bond growing up and I loved her because she loved my cuddles and returned them too. She responded to me so well that Billy said she was meant to be mine all along.
I rode Twinkles into her twilight years, getting to share in the birth of her three foals, all of them lovely horses like their mum. I sadly had her put to sleep when she was over thirty years old.
My tough, beautiful Brumby, Twinkles.
Image 37: A mother keeps a close eye on the photographer as her foal seeks reassurance.