The Empty Paddock

A change in direction

It was an epic walk. Not so much because of the distance - at 11km it wasn’t overly long - but rather because of the reason and the company. Four of us, two people and two horses; me leading my old mare Floss, Rob leading the younger, fitter gelding Panache. Yes, I could have ridden Panache and led Floss, but this way seemed easier. Panache hadn’t been ridden for a while and Floss is now fully retired. After much soul searching (and yes, heart wrenching), I have decided to hang up my riding boots, metaphorically speaking. Time for me to do something different with the time (and money) I have been pouring into horses. Don’t get me wrong, I still love horses. It’s simply that my desire to ride them and revolve my life around them has shifted.

Panache was going to be the horse that re-inspired my desire to be in the saddle. It almost worked, but I found I was spending more time making excuses for not riding than I was riding. I found a potential new home for him. The new people did not want to risk transporting him on the float, given his history of floating accidents. They don’t live very far away, so we decided we would walk him there over two days. The first day, Rob and I would walk Panache and Floss to a friend’s place roughly at the midpoint of the journey. The horses would overnight there. The next day, Panache’s potential new people would walk him across through the bush to their place, with one person leading Panache and the other driving the 4WD. I would put Floss in my float and take her to another friend’s place for her to be with other horses. The idea in taking both Panache and Floss to the overnight place was so Panache would have company in the paddock and Floss wouldn’t be left alone at my place.

Panache leads…

Rob and I set off mid-morning with Panache and Floss. Up the driveway, along the bridle path, down the quiet road and onto a busier road. Onto what in fact turns out to be quite a busy road. Far busier than it has ever seemed to me when I have driven it. Cars zoomed past us. We got off the road as much as possible, but the shoulder was narrow. The bends often blind. The cars often going more than their allowed 80kmh. I would wave a hand asking them to slow. Cars with caravans. Utes with trailers. Small trucks. A tractor. All went past us. The horses didn’t bat an eyelid. They walked calmly on. We deviated off the main road and cut through a subdivision, climbing a long hill past paddocks with cattle grazing. A dog ran along the fence barking at us. A lawnmower zipped around near a house. The horses looked and kept walking. The verge widened and we let them stop and graze for a while. Then on again, the hill stretching ahead and around the bend. Floss felt the incline. Arthritic hocks and old age not her friends. Still, she soldiered on.

A pony went nuts in a padock beside the road, galloping, bucking, farting. Panache picked up on its energy, pranced and danced. Neck arched, ears pricked, nostrils flaring, tail raised as a flag. He looked great. But I realised I hadn’t given Rob much in the way of instruction on how to handle such a situation. “Do you want me to take him?” I asked, as Floss stood calmly eating grass, ignoring the performance of Panache and the pony. “No, it’s okay,” Rob said,trying to stay out of the way. Then, “ouch!” as Panache trod on his foot. Fortunately it wasn’t bad. We carried on.

Back on the road a friend wound down his window as he drove past us. “You can ride them, you know!” he laughed before stopping to chat. He carried on to work and Rob and I and the horses carried on along the road. Two more bends and finally off the busy road and onto the gravel. We stopped and let the horses graze on a wide grassy verge. One long gentle, uphill stretch. Panache strides along, enjoying the softer ground. Looking at cows and kangaroos in the paddocks. His ears prick forward as a woman walks towards us. The distraction of the walker also causes Floss to perk up momentarily. She’s really flagging. Tired. She drags along behind me. “Come on Floss,” I say. “Not long now girl.” She plods along. Rob and Panache get further ahead. They stop and wait for us at the top of the hill. I practical drag Floss up. We pause at the top. I rub her neck. “Just down the hill and then we’re there,” I tell her. I walk off and she obediently follows.

… as Floss drags

We turn into the driveway. Both horses have been here before and suddenly pick up their pace. We get to the paddock and take their halters off. Panache immediately rolls. Then stands up and gallops around the paddock, bucking and rearing. Floss walks a few steps and puts her head down and begins tearing at the grass. I give them each a bucket feed but Panache is too full of pent up energy to stay to eat all of his. He hoons off around the paddock as Floss licks his bucket clean, having already scoffed hers.

We leave the two horse grazing and drive home. (Having left a car at the paddock earlier.) As we wind down our driveway, I look at our empty paddock and wonder if I have made the right decision. Nothing is finalised yet. Panache is going on trial; the sale is not a done deal. Floss is going to be agisted at a friend’s place, but she will still be mine. Time will tell how it all pans out. But for now, the paddock stands empty.

See you outside,

Jill

Inside

The Premier’s book awards came and went. I didn’t win, but it was an interesting evening. Sitting waiting for the winner to be announced was more nerve-wracking than I anticipated, even though I honestly didn’t expect to win and aren’t disappointed that I didn’t. It was thrilling to be shortlisted. Even more so when I read the judge’s comments about ‘What’s for Dinner?’:

“Compelling narrative non-fiction which delves into the history and science of our food supply chains, focusing on the plant and animal species that dominate our diets. It examines the impact of climate change and technological advances on food production, offering an Australian perspective on how food reaches our supermarkets. Masterfully written, the book balances extensive research with readability, making complex topics accessible. It doesn’t tell readers what to think but encourages them to reflect on their consumption choices and the processes behind them, providing a nuanced and engaging analysis of an essential subject.”

I’m happy with that. When all is said and done, silver aint bad. Better get on with writing the next one!