Silver Brumby Echoing

by Elyne Mitchell

  Jounama was his, won by rescuing her from Club Lake, won on the steep slopes of The Sentinel, given to him, he was sure, by Franz. Choopa did a dance of joy, finishing by somersaulting towards that acquisitive colt.

  The colt was frightened by the rolling ball that was Choopa, and backed off as that rolling ball almost reached his legs. That colt had seen Choopa doing all his fascinating tricks before, but never towards him.

  And when Choopa sprang up and chased him away, it was too much altogether. The young colt gave up any idea of stealing the beautiful filly for himself, and went off through the trees with Choopa chasing him, but then returning to Jounama in case that colt doubled back.

  From then on, Jounama trotted flank to flank with him, offering a quick nip to any other horse who came near her.

  They trotted on, like shadows through the snow gums, till Dandaloo thought it time to gather her little herd together — under the black sallee where the robin sang — and let them all rest.

  They lay down, close together. They had all travelled a long way, to the high lakes and back. They had all suffered extreme cold.

  It was Franz who had said, ‘You can’t teach an old donkey how to dance on ice’, and looked at Choopa with pride as he said it, but Franz had not seen his beloved dwarf dancing on Lake Albina when it was frozen — an even more perfect dance than he had ever done in the circus ring — and with the beautiful filly following him through the falling snow and the pale moonbeams.

  Dandaloo’s eyes closed in sleep, but the faithful Son of Storm stayed awake and on guard, until Choopa’s little bush animal friends gathered around them and formed a circle. Later Choopa woke and, seeing the circle of bright eyes around him, he got up and danced.

  Jounama opened her eyes and saw the circle of wombats, echidnas, and wallabies, and Choopa dancing in the centre.

  Then he danced towards her, claiming her, and led her into the centre of the ring. The animals began to walk, shuffle, and hop around them. courbettes, levades, a dance in a light veil of falling snow, half-lit by the light of the sinking moon.

  This time Choopa would not let Jounama vanish in the night.

  This time Jounama would not obey Old Strawberry’s call.

  Fifteen

  Autumn was not a great time for a foal to be born, because there was not much fresh grass, but there were, however, lots of seed pods on the shrubs for a mare to eat to help make the good milk that even a dwarf foal requires.

  Choopa’s and Jounama’s foal was indeed tiny, but perfectly formed. She was as white as her mother, small as a snowflake, and beautiful. Dandaloo thought she had never seen anything so small; even Choopa had not been as small. And this one had tips to her perfect ears, as her mother had, with a faint dusting of pink, like the snow gets in spring, and some pink hairs in her mane and tail.

  The two parents wanted to take their tiny foal up to Lake Albina where they had danced on the ice, but they knew that, with her short legs, it would take her time to get there. Choopa was wishing, too, that he might find Franz there, in the lovely autumn weather. Just to hear his gentle voice saying ‘Pferdl’ and to show him the tiny foal.

  Franz, of course, would have worked it out that an autumn foal would be born to Choopa and Jounama, if any foal were born at all to two dwarfs.

  Dandaloo had watched over Jounama anxiously, seen her milk beginning to come, seen signs of the foal’s kicking when Jounama drank the very cold water at the Cascade Creek. She had been close by, like an elephant ‘nurse’ when the tiny creature was born.

  Choopa seemed to have grown bigger and more handsome when she looked at him. It was as though the baptism in the high lakes had cast a spell over him, and which was working now that his daughter was born — but she worried about the journey to Lake Albina. Son of Storm was quite unworried. He had given Old Strawberry such a fright that he thought the aggressive old horse would never try to take his daughter again.

  Anyway, as they got higher into the mountains, there was the kestrel, telling a tale about Old Strawberry having moved his herd to the Munyang River. That was good news, and there was the silver breast of the bird hovering over the lake as a good omen for the travellers.

  The small party of five horses grazed and rolled by the lake which now seemed to Choopa to be his possession.

  To the man walking down to the lake from Mueller’s Peak, the tiny foal looked like a puppy or a toy horse. His heart quickened with joy. His present for Choopa …

  Then the group of horses all turned and stared up towards the Divide. Some sound had disturbed them all, and there, silhouetted against the sky, was Old Strawberry’s bulk, flanked on either side by two young colts, sons of his. Suddenly, as if they had just seen the five horses below, the stallion and the colts began to gallop down the steep slope in a thunderous wave towards the group of five.

  The man gave a choking cry of ‘Pferdl’, and began to run. Son of Storm and Dandaloo both moved up the slope at a gallop too — blue roan mare and the strong brown stallion — galloping to meet Old Strawberry and his sons, the old mare screaming with rage.

  The shock of the screaming and the galloping to meet them might stop the downward rush.

  Son of Storm, although a gentle horse, was an experienced fighter and understood the value of shock tactics.

  He was not wrong in his strategy. Old Strawberry and his sons stopped in their tracks when they heard Dandaloo and saw her and Son of Storm coming, but they only stopped for a second.

  Old Strawberry, in that second, drew breath and sent an imperious call to Jounama.

  In the moment when Jounama looked up the hill at the great, bulky stallion, the tiny foal darted away from beside her — toy horse filled with curiosity trying to join the predatory brothers and the old father.

  Jounama sprang after her and one of Strawberry’s colts put on a tremendous turn of speed and encircled both Jounama and the foal. Jounama evaded him. Then Old Strawberry himself had managed to cut off the foal from Jounama.

  The fastest of the stallions was now after the foal, cutting her off from joining her mother, and Jounama was now screaming with fear.

  Dandaloo heard the scream and changed her direction to race at the young stallion who was chasing Choopa’s foal. Everything looked maddened to the man. There was the blue roan mare and the big brown stallion. There was the blue roan dwarf and the white dwarf filly and the big strawberry roan, all of them galloping and cutting each other out, all after the tiny toy foal who ran out of the melee, to be followed by her mother.

  The tiny foal was terrified now, and there were such big horses chasing her. By then there was the man on foot, running, too; she had never seen a man before. She saw a clump of rocks which offered shelter. There was a hollow beneath one of the rocks — big enough and small enough to hide a toy foal. She crawled into it and the big horses went thundering past. Her heart stopped thumping as she got her breath, then her mother appeared between the rocks and the man was standing there, too, stroking Jounama’s ears, which she accepted as if she had never forgotten.

  Presently that toy filly crept out to get a drink, and she stayed there while Franz petted her mother.

  Naturally the thundering big horses came back, looking for her and her mother.

  Old Strawberry tracked her down by scent. The foal heard his hooves on rock and cringed away, back into her shelter. Her heart started thumping again with terror.

  Then the two colts forced her out of her shelter, but her terrified screams brought Son of Storm and Choopa, both of them racing to protect the two dwarf fillies. But the little foal fled, and twisted and turned and dodged and ran round and under the colts, mouth open, screaming whenever she could get breath.

  Jounama was beside herself with fear for her foal. If only the foal would stay still, they could protect her. Son of Storm would chase Old Strawberry away.

  At last the foal collapsed, sobbing for breath, and Jounama and Choopa stood over her. It was then that Son of Storm mustered up Old Strawb
erry and the two young stallions and drove them away from Lake Albina. By this time Franz had climbed up the slope and was swinging a rope around in a punishing sort of way.

  When they were right away, Jounama stirred the foal and took her to the hole beneath the rocks again, and the little one slept there, got up to drink, and slept again, and forgot her fears with the warm comfort of her mother.

  When dawn came and, with it, the warmth of the sun, its rays coming over the shoulder of Carruther’s Peak, Franz was still there, whispering to Choopa, stroking him and Jounama with his magic fingers, gently touching the toy foal so like her mother and father. She would never forget Franz — the giver of strength and love.

  Choopa stood out in the sunshine, looking at his beloved lake. A faint radiation mist rose over the water and, as the sun’s rays strengthened, he saw a rainbow over the water where they had danced on the ice.

  He went down to the lake, then, and stood there in the water.

  Franz came down the slope with the foal in his arms, and stood looking at Choopa with his rainbow halo.

  Author’s Note

  The mist-bow, or rainbow halo, that envelopes Choopa as he stands above the Snowy River and Lake Albina, is called a Brocken bow, or Brocken spectre. A set of rings of coloured lights is visible around the shadow of an object or person as the shadow is cast upon a nearby low-lying cloud.

  It is named for Mt Brocken, the highest peak in the Harz mountains of Germany, where the phenomenon is often quite spectacular.

  The Thousandth Brumby

  Dedication

  For John, who took me to Beloka

  One

  Always a loner, from the time he was born. ‘Birds of a feather stick together’, but there were no birds of his feather, until that bronze cuckoo called up the dog that was sitting on the ground by the dead stockman.

  The brumbies that were watching saw the dog cock his ears up at the bronze cuckoo’s whistle.

  They saw the dog join that loner brumby, saw them both melt into thick bush; the black brumby with four white legs and the black and blue dog with the white paws.

  The black brumby with the four white legs saw the dog following and felt glad of its company, thinking that dog might be a good friend.

  Something told him that there was going to be a fierce storm, and there would be room for a dog, too, under the overhanging rock that he knew would be a good place to stay. He began to trot. The dog kept the same distance behind him.

  Then the bronze cuckoo began to call again from up near that overhanging rock. Now Socks trotted faster. The dog closed the distance between them a little.

  They were nearly at the overhanging rock above Cascade Creek when the first raindrops started to fall. Socks went faster and came to shelter under the rock before he got really wet. Then he heard the dog howling.

  He trotted back, nudged the dog towards the sheltering rock. The bronze cuckoo called again and was quiet. The black and blue dog lay down under the overhang, and after a while, Socks lay down beside him as the rain grew harder, and they were snug and warm. Black dog crept closer to Socks until they warmed each other. Then the thunder and lightning started.

  The black and blue dog’s name, given him by his stockman owner, was Lightning because he hated lightning and thunder, so with the first crash and flash of the storm he wriggled in closer to Socks. In his sleep Socks felt the warm dog against his chest, and without knowing he did it, wrapped his legs a little tighter around the dog. Crack, crash! went the thunder and lightning, and the dog growled. Down poured the rain, but they were warm and dry.

  The storm blew and thundered all through the night, and it quietened just as dawn was coming. The dog woke and gently licked Socks’ nose.

  Dawn came creeping over Paradise Hill, above the Cascade Valley. A few brumbies began to wander out of the sheltering bush. Lightning watched them. Socks made no move to join them. None of them were friends of his. In fact, he did not have any friends.

  Suddenly he felt that Lightning was his friend, and these other horses might chase him. He had better watch out for Lightning, but he needed to get a drink. He stood up and moved out from under the rock. The other brumbies began moving towards him.

  A small rabbit appeared, shaking rain out of its coat. Lightning was hungry and here was something to eat. He sprang after it. Socks watched him catch it and begin to eat. The other brumbies crept closer.

  Lightning looked up and saw them. Perhaps they were coming after his food.

  Low to the ground, he moved forward and then leapt after the leaders, rounding them up and sending them right up the valley. Socks watched with pleasure and amusement. He and Lightning were friends for life and the other brumbies should know it.

  Just as the herd of brumbies went galloping up the snowgrass valley of the Cascade Creek, Socks saw a movement on a little mound opposite. There was a slab and shingle hut there, he knew, and the door of the hut flew open. Two men burst out.

  ‘Lightning, come ’ere,’ one yelled.

  Lightning stopped dead and swung round to where he knew Socks was standing.

  Socks found himself neighing to the dog — his friend — and, in a second, Lightning sprang around, picked up his half-eaten young rabbit, and tore back towards Socks. The two of them crept off together through the wet scrub to another good hiding place that Socks had seen before.

  If only they don’t have dogs to look for us, Socks thought, and turned his head down to nose Lightning. The dog licked his nose, then jumped up and put a paw on Socks’ leg.

  They would be friends now forever.

  Socks stopped for a minute at a little pool and had a drink. Lightning ate the remaining hind leg of his rabbit and felt much better. Now they could go on to whatever lay ahead.

  Plenty lay ahead.

  Socks suspected that the two men would saddle up their horses and come after them. Lightning had the same sort of feeling, and there was no way that he was going to be caught. His owner had died, he knew that, and the voice of the man who had called his name was that of a bad man. He had seen him in action before and he didn’t want anything to do with him. Now that he had a good friend he meant to stick to him.

  When they stopped once for Socks to listen and wonder, Lightning put up a paw to Socks’ dear face.

  Then the two friends went on, creeping rather silently along the hillsides till they came to a cavern that Socks knew existed. A good shelter should it storm again, and well hidden.

  A flock of black cockatoos flew overhead. They knew, just like Socks and Lightning did, that more bad weather was coming. Any tracks Socks and Lightning might have made would be washed out.

  A spring gushed out of the hill just below their cave and ran round a swamp into quite a large creek.

  They had a good hiding place. There were plenty of seed-bearing bushes surrounding a little grassy flat where rabbits usually played. Socks and Lightning would have enough food for a few days and plenty of water, and the call of the bronze cuckoo to tell them to stay.

  It was the start of Socks’ life of being the wildest brumby of them all. Socks and Lightning’s great combination was of brains and cunning, of teeth and hooves.

  Lightning had loved his master, the master who whistled like a bronze cuckoo, but he had learnt enough about men and cattle to be determined not to be caught again by any others. He and Socks would be quite a fearsome team: a fighting dog, and maybe a fighting brumby. A pair that knew the mountains well.

  Rain began again, then came the first roll of thunder.

  The two men had followed in their general direction, but found no tracks. Now Lightning was snug and warm with Socks. His old master had called him Lightning but had always comforted him in a storm. Now Socks comforted him when there was thunder and lightning. Lightning felt safe and happy with Socks and, for the first time in his loner’s life, Socks felt secure in companionship with Lightning.

  They stayed in their cave.

  A low growl from Lightning told Sock
s that the men had come fairly close, then turned back. One man’s voice drifted up to him.

  ‘I’d like that dog — a real good worker.’

  Another voice answered: ‘’E mightn’t work for you. Forget it!’

  ‘You’re right. Let’s go back.’

  The sky was bright with lightning; the dog crept closer against Socks. Socks nosed him gently. No-one was going to harm Lightning.

  Thunder crashed, but they heard the men turn back. Lightning stayed very quiet. Time, later, to get up and hunt another rabbit when they came out to play.

  By evening a greenish rift came in the clouds; the storm might be over. Horse and dog stood at the cave opening looking out. Then Socks made up his mind, nosed Lightning to follow, and set off to the ridge above. There was no track, but the going would be good for quite some distance.

  Socks knew the way well. There might be a track of sorts up the Leatherbarrel Creek, but he did not know if there would be other horses owning that deep valley.

  There would be water, and shrubs to eat, but he really did not know if there would be rabbits for Lightning to hunt. Surely there would be rabbits?

  He turned his head to touch Lightning, glad of his company. Lightning was glad, too, and jumped up to greet him. A bar of sunlight fell on the dog’s coat, showing up the touch of blue on his shoulder — blue heeler, savage but faithful — and a touch of dingo with his pricked ears. Socks went on happily.

  The scrub was getting more dense. They crossed two small creeks. Lightning splashed about, catching floating leaves and sticks, then he snapped up a little rainbow trout, but he wasn’t really sure how to eat it.

  They now crossed a bigger creek, the Leatherbarrel, and then the going got rougher, more difficult, with thick grevillea shrubs, difficult for Lightning to move through. Even Socks’ legs got tangled up, but on they went.