UNDERSTANDING INSTINCT
How do I describe a relationship not spoken? Instead, communication is with subtle movements, gestures and body language—the twitch of an ear, a slight shift of weight, the relaxed bend of a back leg, a lick and chew and lowering of the head.
My time with Brumbies started in Central Australia when working on a remote cattle station, where I was employed as a receptionist for a tourism operation. Brumbies and camels are widespread throughout these arid lands and seen as pests who cause significant damage to the landscape. Brumby mobs are particularly heavy throughout rangelands and flood-out country, where they rely on springs and semi-permanent waterholes for survival. Life can be very harsh; decent rains occurring one year in seven are considered by pastoralists to be a ‘good year’. Animals do well on lush grasses and plenty of water for the first year. However, over subsequent years, as waterholes dry up, feed is eaten out and animals have to travel further and further in search of food and water. Hundreds perish. Only the strong survive.
One day, I noticed a beautiful pale palomino Brumby mare, about 15hh, hanging around the fence line near my own horse. Taking a chance, I opened the gate and she simply walked through. Little did I know what chain of events I was setting in motion! Was she seeking food and water? Was she perhaps looking for a new mob? Where was her mob? Was she cast out from her old mob because of her unusual light-coloured coat? (Brumbies are typically bay or chestnut in these parts.) I named her Spinifex, because she reminded me so much of the light spinifex grass seedheads so abundant in this part of Australia.
‘Spin’ had incredible strength of character. She knew who she was—an alpha mare. Perhaps her strong character and light colouring were the reasons why she had no mob, or perhaps her mob had simply perished during the drought—we’ll never know. Regardless, this was the beginning of the deep love and respect I have developed for the Brumby breed.
Even though I had my own horse, I’d had no experience in starting horses let alone a wild one. I was lucky enough to have attended one of Carlos Tabernaberri’s clinics a few years earlier and he was willing to come and work with Spin, who quickly showed me the meaning of ‘wild horse’—too much horse for me in particular to handle! It’s not that Spin was dangerous. She was just a strong horse with strong alpha traits requiring a strong and confident leader. And by strong leader, I don’t mean someone who would use force to dominate but rather someone who understood and could communicate in her language, as the language of horses that have been wild over many generations is unlike that of a domestic horse. Fortunately, Carlos with his confidence, kindness and experience was able to guide me in establishing the beginnings of a lifelong partnership with Spin.
A long drought and a muster, combined with an understanding husband, meant that my one Brumby soon became seven! With mobs of wild horses massing at rapidly drying waterholes, the station I worked at saw a chance to make a quick buck, so they set up yards around the waterholes with the intention of trapping all the animals they could. Camels, scrub cattle and Brumbies were all caught up in the mayhem. Adult Brumbies were trucked south for slaughter and young foals with no economic value were left behind to fend for themselves. Camels and cattle were sent elsewhere. My husband worked on the mustering team and, knowing my love of horses, came home with six orphaned foals rather than let them perish. This handful of innocent lost souls was aged between one and three months. Many months of hard work, together with help from friends with bucket feeding, gentle handling and mothering, ensured that my little band of Brumby orphans survived. Carlos, with his passion for Brumbies, helped me to find suitable homes in Victoria for most of the foals, now named Tempe, Sapphire, Nankali, KC and Mr Walker. One young colt, named Levi, was destined for even further afield. He travelled with Spinifex to Tasmania, our new home.
Brumbies are not for the faint-hearted; they are one step removed from the wild. When I get it right they have a softness and vulnerability that can take my breath away. Get it wrong, however, and their instincts automatically kick in. I learn so much every time I am with these amazing horses. They constantly challenge me and have an expectation that I will continue to prove that I am the leader of the herd. This in turn causes me to reassess myself, to notice how I use my body when I’m with them. They have shown me manners and have taught me the steadfast hierarchy and respect that operates within a herd. They have great strength and self-awareness and expect nothing but the same from me.
In my current small herd live two Brumbies and two domestic horses. They are all individuals but the Brumbies have an intensity and energy about them that is hard to define.
‘Spinny’, as Spinifex has become known, has the presence and confidence of a stallion and she can stare straight through you. However, she is also social and the first one to come to me in the paddock. Levi, not yet as confident as Spinifex, has a fight or flight response that is very reactive. It might be his Brumby instinct or perhaps some lingering deep-seated trauma from the muster, I’m not sure. He has a fragility that can be quickly shattered if I miss the smallest try he offers, but he is very affectionate to those he has learnt to trust.
Having Spinny and Levi has been a very deep and personal journey. I am both teacher and student. It has been rewarding yet heartbreaking, grounding yet uplifting. And yes, I would do it all again to ensure that Australia’s Brumbies are treated with the respect and kindness they deserve.
Image 6: Anne spots a Brumby on the trail.