Edie Eicas: Spooked

Perhaps it was the fairy tales where the prince rode a horse or maybe it was my subconscious need to feel powerful through the agency of the animal that sent me in pursuit of riding
instructions. A gentle horse that walks around an enclosure is a lovely experience and can fool an enamoured teenage girl about her ability to control the power of an animal standing 12 hands high. One summer, feeling confident as a rider, I worked for a riding school in Strathalbyn. I waxed saddles and shone bridles, I fed and brushed horses, and mucked out stables, not a job I looked forward to. How much poo can a horse produce and, just be careful of urine because there’s lots and lots and it can go everywhere!I was assigned the horse Queeny, a fat, short, lazy pony, one not interested in any galloping no matter how hard you dug your heels into her sides. She suited me. I was still very much a beginner rider. When a new group of students came to stay, Queeny was assigned to the smallest and youngest girl; I lamented my loss. Queeny and I had bonded and I knew her quirks. She would blow herself up with air whenever she felt the saddle on her back; it was her party trick. If you didn’t pay attention, and then tried to mount, put your foot in the stirrup, she would expel the air and the saddle would slip and you would slide to the ground and have to start again saddling up, jab the horse in her ribs, get her to exhale and then tighten the girdle.With Queeny no longer available, I had to ride Rockla, a horse from the wild, an Australian brumby, one saved from the knackery. While the owner had calmed him and trained him for
the school, Rockla was not the horse to put under a novice. He had a talent and a mind of his own.Out in the paddock with the littlies I followed them sitting proud. Rockla was huge, over 16 ands. I was a long way from the ground and very nervous. We were doing well and the girls were walking or jumping over the low bars. On that beautiful summer day out in the country everyone was happy.I don’t know what spooked Rockla but he swung around so fast I was barely able to stay seated. Then he was off at a gallop with me lying low over his neck while trying to pull him up. I’m a screamer and you could hear me screaming all the way to Adelaide.Rockla was determined to get away. I had never jumped anything more than 50 cm but Rockla’s speciality was jumping and, competitively. The fence around the paddock was a metre high and
he had a goal. Luckily, and I don’t know how, I pulled him up and diverted him.I never got on that horse again and I quit my job.Both of us were spooked that day.