Brumby: A Celebration of Australia's Wild Horses by Kathryn Massey & Mae Lee Sun

Author:Kathryn Massey & Mae Lee Sun [Massey, Kathryn & Sun, Mae Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horses, Wildlife, Animals, Nature, Pets, History/Historical Geography
ISBN: 9781775590835
Google: rSCXAAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Exisle Publishing
Published: 2013-08-31T00:00:00+00:00

Image 22: Brumbies know how to make the most of a desert waterhole.

Image 23: Lara and Aria share a special moment of connection.

A SONG FOR ARIA

Lara Fanning, dairy assistant

The Brumby’s nostrils flared and without signalling his herd he started towards the hiding place where I crouched. Suddenly, I was aware that the tiny tea-tree bushes in the centre of the herd’s flat were not enough cover. My heart was pounding as I remained as still and silent as I possibly could. Then this wild bay stallion with chocolate brown eyes was upon me and I melted beneath his gaze.

With his head lowered, he regarded me curiously. Stunned he would dare come so close to an unknown creature like myself, I blinked and slowly released the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. A Brumby, frequently chased and harassed by humans, should have fled at the sight of me.

Acting on instinct, I slowly stood up, eyes locked on the stallion’s neat, hard hooves, as if I were a servant grovelling for my master’s forgiveness after invading his home. A few metres away, he stood watching me, just as bewildered as I was. He flicked his jet-black tail, glanced at his mares and then back at me, gently rather than threatening.

In the early morning light, the eucalyptus leaves glowed a green-gold and the High Country seemed a sanctuary for these horses; a deep breath, an exhale from fighting for life. In winter they fought for pastures to graze on. In spring, stallions challenged one another and young, inexperienced colts took a brutal beating. All year round, I knew this herd led by the bay stallion would also be hunted by humans. Dusk and dawn were the only times when they could enjoy their haven, so I was invading a hallowed place at a sacred time, yet the stallion had accepted it.

Lowering my own head, I backed up two steps, turned and ran. There was no startled response from the herd. No mare or foal fled in terror. The stallion simply watched, his ears tipped forward in my direction. I broke into the cover of the bush and stumbled over fallen branches and moss-speckled rocks. When I stopped to look back, the herd was hidden by the ghost gums. Hidden and safe. For now.

My auntie, who’d brought me to the Australian bush, had told me, ‘You don’t name Brumbies.’ When I had asked why, she’d replied, ‘It just makes it harder to move on if they are shot.’ Disturbed by the thought, I decided to name the bay stallion in the hope that he would avoid this fate. In that short instant when my eyes had met his, the world had been perfect and full. I called him Aria, meaning ‘a song for solo voice’.

I went back on numerous occasions to the hidden meadows where he and his herd grazed. Only when I was utterly alone, herdless, would the horses accept me as part of their own. At other times, camping with friends and family, the herd would see me and quickly realise I had company.

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