by Kelly Wilson
Trying to get our reeling minds around these numbers, we moved on to visit the wild Brumby herds in the far pastures of the sanctuary. Here, old stallions, long since gelded but unsuitable for re-homing due to injury or their advanced age, were run with herds of wild mares during their transition period. For the first 18 months after being trapped and saved, pregnant mares run wild at the sanctuary, enjoying the freedom and safety of a 50-acre paddock; they continue to live in a herd situation until they’ve given birth and have had their foals weaned. The younger stallions, frequently selected to compete in the Australian Brumby Challenge, get nine months of transition time. After arriving at the sanctuary they are sedated in a crush and gelded, given time to recover in yards and then moved to the 50-acre paddocks in bachelor herds while their testosterone levels drop. Living in the paddocks also gives the horses the opportunity to become accustomed to fences and artificial water sources. In many ways, this management of the Brumbies was the perfect median between the Kaimanawas, who came to us totally wild directly from the government-funded helicopter musters, and the Mustangs, who were kept yarded for years on end in what were essentially feed lots.
Saving the Brumbies that come through the VBA sanctuary means a huge long-term commitment, with 9 to 18 months of feeding being invested in them. To help pay for it all, most Brumbies have sponsors who contribute to the basic costs; there is no government funding. Naming the Brumbies is part of the sponsorship deal; my mare had been named VBA Shyla, meaning daughter of the mountain, and Vicki’s was called VBA Diana — although, due to her colouring, we soon gave her the paddock name Arana, meaning moon. Amanda’s mare had never been sponsored, so Amanda spent much time brainstorming a name and eventually settled on VBA Ballarat, meaning resting place, in remembrance of the thousands of Snowy Brumbies that had lost their lives over the years. Ballarat was also the name of the closest town to the Brumby sanctuary (about 45 minutes’ drive away).
AFTER LUNCH WE HEADED BACK OUTSIDE to work with the Brumbies again. As soon as we left our cabin, which was in sight of the yards, we noticed movement; Arana had remained on high alert and had started running around as soon as she saw us. It was an interesting reaction, something we’d rarely seen in other horses. We have found that most wild horses have a natural curiosity about humans, but Arana had a deep-seated mistrust of people and genuinely seemed to think that her life was in danger when they were around. Rather than working with her, Vicki leant on the fence to watch her again, hoping that she’d settle down in time. Fortunately, Shyla, who was yarded between Arana and Ballarat, wasn’t upset by the stressed mare beside her, so I was able to begin working with her. Even with a fence separating us, Arana paced restlessly, snorting as she alternated between watching Vicki and watching me working with Shyla. Although this situation was enough to put any horse on edge, Shyla remained as steady as a rock and I could see why her temperament had saved her all those months ago. There was something quite remarkable about her.
On my other side, I heard Amanda laugh as she worked with Ballarat, and turned to watch the little Brumby trot towards her and stamp her hoof before darting back and then repeating the process. Amused by her antics, Amanda patiently allowed the mare to approach and retreat as she wished, letting the mare choose the timing and the distance. Ballarat’s boldness gave her the confidence to gradually creep closer each time, and it wasn’t long before she was standing in front of Amanda, close enough to be touched. Amanda slowly raised her hand, reaching out quietly, but the mare started, leaping sideways before cantering back to a corner. Although brave, she was incredibly reactive and it took a while before she got up enough courage to approach Amanda again.
Turning my attention back to my own Brumby, I began asking more of her; while she remained quiet, she did her best to ignore me, lowering her head and turning away slightly as a way of coping. My priority was to get her comfortable enough around me to raise her head and look at me again — until she was willing to acknowledge me, I knew she wouldn’t be ready to be approached, touched or haltered. I asked her to walk out on a circle (by holding one hand out in the direction I wanted her to go, and gently waving the other one to encourage her to move), and then stepped in front of her as she moved to encourage her to turn in and face me. The first few times she turned away instead, pressing closer to the fence instead of taking any steps towards me, but I repeated the movements until she stepped in towards me as she turned. I backed up, pleased, then again repeated the movements a few more times until she was standing quietly, watching me, with both eyes focused on me for the first time. Pleased with her progress, I quietly backed out of the yard and was thrilled to see her turn to watch me as I left.
Ballarat was unsettled when Amanda entered her yard for the first time.
Shyla facing me for the first time after entering her yard.
Giving our mares a break, Amanda and I went to watch Vicki as she entered Arana’s yard. Since people would be a part of Arana’s daily life from now on, Vicki wanted the mare to become accustomed to people being in her space and to realise that we weren’t there to hurt her. Rather than pacing against the far fence line, this time the mare took off at a canter, circling around Vicki and snorting with stress as she warily bolted around the yard. To make herself as unintimidating as possible, Vicki stood completely still, looking down at the ground; nothing about her position or her body language was threatening. For 10 minutes Arana cantered, her coat becoming slick with sweat, and still she showed no signs of slowing. Vicki waited patiently; after a while, Arana changed to a trot and then eventually a walk and, finally, some 40 minutes after Vicki had first entered the yard, a halt. Vicki gently glanced up at the mare — and although she’d moved only a fraction it was enough to upset Arana and send her cantering off again. This time, though, it was only a few minutes before she stood still, watching Vicki tensely. Vicki quietly backed from the yard to give Arana time to relax — she’d had more than enough human interaction for one day. Apart from Memo, an older Kaimanawa mare from the 2012 muster, Arana was the only wild horse we had encountered that had instinctively run when a person had entered its yard. Again watching from the fence, Vicki quietly mulled over her and Arana’s options.
Before leaving the yards, Amanda and I returned to our horses to spend a few more minutes with them. Arana was so easily distracted that we hadn’t wanted to worry her by working the other Brumbies within her sight, and we’d been careful to keep very still while Vicki was in the yard with her. Shyla and Ballarat had already impressed us today so we made the session very short. My aim was to see whether Shyla would eat hay out of my hand. I crouched low in the centre of the yard with the hay held out, and gradually Shyla plucked up enough courage to step forward and eat from my outstretched fingers. Considering that she’d had unlimited hay available all day, her action was definitely a matter of choice and I was pleased at how much confidence she’d gained from the hour I’d spent with her over the course of the day.
Amanda’s first time touching Ballarat, during their second handling session.
Shyla eating from my hand on our second day together.
Meanwhile, Amanda’s Brumby was standing in front of her and stretching her head out to be touched. Over the next few minutes the curious mare would let herself be patted, then would stamp her hoof and dart backwards, only to step forward and repeat the process a few seconds later. Amanda was grinning, pleased with how well Ballarat was progressing; I was equally happy with my own mare.
CHAPTER 3
Brumby-run?
Right from the beginning, Arana had a strong flight mode.
The following day, Alexa was paired up with the striking bay roan gelding we’d seen on our tour. He was called Ranger and had been trapped two years earlier. Although Alexa wouldn’t be competing in the Australian Brumby Challenge, this gave her a horse to focus on during our time in Australia and she was looking forward to winning him over. Unlike our Brumbies, Ranger wasn’t completely unhandled; he had been re-homed b
ut was then returned to the VBA with behavioural issues. He had been back at the sanctuary for six months, left untouched, and now genuinely feared humans. Working with horses that have been misunderstood or mistreated in the past is always worrying; you never really know when or what went wrong, or how much handling they actually had.
After a lot of patience, Alexa managed to get a halter on Ranger that first day, but in many ways he was more challenging than our fully wild Brumbies. Colleen had a good point to make about the handling of wild horses: if a wild horse is mistreated or rushed in its initial handling, then 100 per cent of its experience with humans is negative; whereas if a domesticated horse suddenly has a handler or rider mistreat it, it has a whole library of good experiences to default back to and will be far more forgiving. We couldn’t help agreeing. Because a wild horse has nothing positive to compare its treatment with, a poor experience with humans will naturally lead to it perceiving people in a negative light.
While we were watching Alexa work with Ranger, Vicki’s mare started running around her yard again. While not as stressed as the day before, it was obvious that she was upset at having humans within sight. Watching her, Colleen commented that the only other horses that mentally fragile she’d seen were the first 130 Brumbies the VBA had saved, all of which had been Brumby-run from the Alpine National Park in Victoria. Vicki immediately asked for more information, because the mare’s behaviour was completely unlike anything we’d seen before; if Arana had previously had a bad experience with humans, it would explain a lot.
As we listened, our concern grew. In Brumby running, a rider on horseback uses dogs to find and chase wild horses, often to the point of exhaustion, until the rider is able to catch up and lasso one. Younger Brumbies give up more quickly, while the older ones become quite cunning, darting through the under-brush to escape capture. Young, weak, thin or pregnant mares are the most vulnerable and are generally the easiest to capture.
While Brumby running (under different names) was once used throughout the world for capturing horses — including the Kaimanawas and the Mustangs — most countries have now banned the chasing, harassment and capture of wild horses in this manner. Unfortunately, in Australia there seems to be a way around the ban. Although it is illegal for the general public to capture wild Brumbies, the Victorian government contracts Brumby runners to capture a set quota of wild horses each year as a method of controlling their numbers. While historically Brumby running was done for sport, the contracts have turned it into a money-making venture for the horsemen who are sent in to lasso Brumbies; each rider often setting out to catch up to six horses per day. Most Brumby runners end up getting paid double, by dropping off the traumatised horses at local abattoirs on their way home and collecting the money for their meat.
Like the meat sellers, Brumby runners prefer the bigger Brumbies. In one incident, a horseman caught 26 Brumbies over the course of a single day, capturing them one at a time and tying them to trees. Once his six lassos had all been used, he backtracked and released the four smallest animals and went out to catch another four. He repeated this until eventually he had six Brumbies that were large enough to fetch good meat prices. One by one he would drag each horse back to his truck, with the horses fighting the rope that held them until they were too exhausted to struggle. And it didn’t end there — the frightened horses were dragged onto the truck with a boat winch. When they were finally unloaded in the slaughter pens, their bodies would have been so damaged from struggling against the ropes that they probably wouldn’t have been much use for anything other than meat.
While those horses that were dropped off at an abattoir after capture had a brutal fate, the other Brumbies, those that had been caught and then released as too small, weren’t necessarily the lucky ones. Many would have had nasty rope burns and virtually all would have developed a fear of humans, having learnt to flee quickly when they saw riders approaching. When Colleen first began rescuing wild Brumbies destined for slaughter, she had assumed that all wild horses were as difficult to tame because she thought that Brumby running was the way all of them were captured. It wasn’t until she re-homed some passively trapped Brumbies from the Snowy Mountains that she realised there was a kinder way, one that minimised both the physical and the mental damage done to the horses. These passively trapped Brumbies were significantly easier to tame and more responsive to the halter and lead.
Answering a question from Vicki, Colleen said that it was possible that Arana had been Brumby-run. Although the practice was illegal in New South Wales where Arana had roamed, through being considered an inhumane method of managing the Brumbies, it wasn’t unheard of for people in the high country to illegally run wild Brumbies for sport; it had long been a tradition there.
Regardless of whether Arana had been Brumby-run or not, the mare was certainly in need of lots of patience. Both that afternoon and the next morning, she began circling as soon as Vicki re-entered her yard, as agitated as she’d been during their first session. Since Arana had such a pronounced flight response and was working herself into exhaustion, Vicki decided to get her into the crush and halter her so that the befriending process could begin, while also helping to prevent possible injury to her. Arana had been in the crush a number of times since first arriving at the sanctuary, for lice treatments and worming; it allowed people to get close to her and touch her safely, and Vicki was hopeful that having gentle hands on her would help Arana realise that we weren’t there to hurt her. Letting her work herself up, as she was currently doing, would only cause her to lose weight and potentially develop ulcers through stress, or hoof abscesses from constant movement on the fine gravel surface.
After opening up the gate into the crush, Vicki walked back into Arana’s yard. Seeing a means of escape, the mare quickly darted into the opening of the crush and the gate was closed after her. Vicki first talked quietly to her, then reached out a hand and lightly brushed her fingers over the mare’s rump. Startled, Arana half reared and then stood trembling as Vicki kept a gentle hand on her and assessed the situation. While there were usually clear benefits from a hands-on approach, she didn’t want to cause the mare undue trauma. Standing above Arana in the crush, Vicki looped a rope around the mare’s neck; Arana threw her head up at the initial contact but settled down gradually once it was secure, and Vicki was able to rub her over her neck, shoulders and back over the next 20 minutes. Satisfied with this progress, Vicki opened the gate and let Arana trot back into her yard.
Although the mare wasn’t haltered, the rope helped. At first, Vicki kept it slack while Arana trotted around her; once she saw the mare relax slightly, she applied just the slightest pressure to the rope. Arana flicked an ear and quickly slowed, turning in to face Vicki. Although trembling and obviously tense, it was the first time the mare had stood still and Vicki slowly backed up, letting the rope go slack; the extra distance let the mare relax further. Slowly, Vicki took a step forward and then stood still, allowing the mare to relax again before continuing. Once or twice Arana went to move off, but a little squeeze on the rope was enough to keep her steady — she seemed to understand what pressure on the rope meant. Over the next 40 minutes, Vicki kept advancing and retreating, in tune with Arana’s body language, until she stood beside the mare and slowly reached out to touch her. At the first contact, although brief, the flighty mare darted off, trotting around Vicki a few times before coming back to a halt. Vicki started advancing and retreating again, and this time it only took 10 minutes for her to get close. Slowly, Vicki reached out to rub Arana’s neck and head. Her eye and body language had relaxed significantly, and Vicki continued to work with her slowly and steadily until she could halter her.
Once Vicki’s hands were on her, Arana noticeably relaxed and pressed into Vicki’s chest; the mare also licked her lips, which is a sign of both acceptance and relaxation. Soon Vicki was able to stroke and scratch her over her head, neck and shoulders while she stood still; the most at ease she’d been so far. When Vicki released her
, she only paced a little bit this time. Vicki gave her some hay, making sure to put it at the furthest end of the yard as Arana was still unsure about stepping forward to eat if any people were around.
Alexa’s first day working with Ranger, a Brumby that was returned to the Victorian Brumby sanctuary due to handling issues.
Only 50 minutes later, Arana was relaxed with Vicki haltering her.
With Arana worked, I entered Shyla’s yard and we repeated many of the previous day’s lessons. First I got her to face me. This time, though, when I backed away to reward her the mare stepped towards me and soon she was following me around the yard, turning to copy me each time I changed directions. Amazed by her performance I left the yard to pick some fresh grass — she deserved a reward for being so willing to be with me. This time she was much braver, with no hesitation when she stepped forward and stretched out her head to take the offered grass. Feeling that Shyla was ready for more, I gently reached out a hand to touch her — and she tossed her head away before lowering it to the ground to avoid the contact. Getting to the stage of touching her was clearly going to be a slow process. I continued to work slowly with her, gradually reaching out to touch her on the shoulder. The first few times she walked away, carefully dodging me, but soon she halted in the middle of the yard, allowing my hand to touch her shoulder.
