The White Pony

A funny thing happened the other day. So funny that possibly only real horse owners could ever truly understand the sheer magnitude of the particular situation, in which we found ourselves in.

It was mid-winter and during a brief break in the cold wet, sole sucking miserable weather, we chanced upon a glorious sunny morning. It was still cold, with the lattice work of frost still heavy on the ground. But the sun was breaking through and slowly burning up any evidence that Jack Frost had been. A ride was what was needed to make us human again. A ride to clear the cobwebs from our minds and release our crooked backbone. Or put the rest of it out. A gallop through the bush, racing the wind and reminding us that winter would not last forever and spring would soon be with us again.

We loaded our trusty steeds into the float, and the plethora of horse equipment that we might need, and headed out to the bush. It was turning out to be a glorious morning, with the sun shining though the canopy of the gum trees as we drove down the bush roads. The air was still brisk as we pulled up in our usual spot.

We unloaded our steeds and tied them to the float. I pulled the rug of my Quarter horse and started brushing him down. He didn’t need much, he was that type of horse, even during winter he still had a sleek coat. His chestnut coat had a healthy dapple to it, and the more I groomed the more it shone. I heard a sigh behind me, I turned and nearly laughed. My friend, Jamie, was standing at the front of her steed, not quite sure where to start. She had a pony.

Not just any pony, but a Welsh cross.

A white welsh cross pony.

Well his official colour was white, but I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him white. Jamie liked to say that he was just in camo colours. If he decorated himself this way then maybe we wouldn’t be able to see him in the paddock and we wouldn’t be able to catch him to go for a ride. But he shore as heck made sure I could hear him at feed time.

His coat was in its mid-winter glory. Long and thick, perfect for holding mud, dirt, leaves and hay. At times he looked more like a blocked drain pipe then a pony. Today was no exception. Jamie looked at me and sighed again. This time I couldn’t help but laugh. She started to brush him and I expected her brush to be full with just one stroke. But no, it wasn’t spring yet. Last year we had parked at a different spot to go for a ride and it was the start of spring. I’m sure it took us two hours to brush him down, and he still looked like he could have had another four hours of grooming. But at least we could see the evidence lying all around us at our feet. It covered our brushes, clothes, saddle blankets and the car. I’m sure I even pooped out some the next day with the amount I swallowed. It was a running joke between us that if an unsuspecting person stumbled upon our mountain of shedder white hair that they would be sure that some animal had been killed here. Because no animal could possibly loose that much hair and still be alive! Nobody, but this white pony.

At times during the year it would look like a snowstorm had hit the paddocks, as he would scratch and roll to help remove the excess hair. During spring the hair was everywhere. He was banned from being brushed inside the stable as the thick carpet of white hair would blow into the tack room and cover my black saddles and work its way into the arms of my oilskin coats. This would surprise me when going for a trail ride without him. I would remove my coat at a lunch stop many hours away from home and my lunch would still get covered in white hair!

He had a fair age about him, but that is something that you would never have guessed, for when we finally got out riding after brushing him down as he acted like a two year old! Full of go and woo-hoo. Finally he had earned his own set of brushes, saddle blankets, saddle and rugs. Jamie said it was because he had been such a reliable, brave, and loyal companion for so many years and that he deserved his own stuff. I just thought it was because she was sick of having white hair over everything.

Jamie stared to remove the debris from her pony; I turned around to finish saddling up my fellow so I could help her. As I tightened the girth, I heard a noise. I stopped and looked up, there was no Jamie. I thought that maybe she had gone to get another brush from the car, but I couldn’t see her anywhere. The pony hand a funny look upon his face. I walked over to the back of the float, and called out to her. Then the strange noise came again. It was something like a squeal, but muffled. I stopped, perplexed now. The noise came again, but this time it sounded like…

"Heeeeeeeeeelp!"

But it was muffled and sounded like it was a long way away, or that someone was shouting from inside a padded room. Yes I knew what a padded room sounded like, but that’s a whole other story. I was getting a little worried by now as I franticly looked for Jamie. A slight movement caught my eye. As I turned towards the white pony, I couldn’t believe what I saw. It looked like there was a hand growing from his back! I was thinking that I was going to need that padded room after all. But then the fingers wiggled and the muffled sound came again, but it sounded like… "I’m in here you idiot!" I came closer. And called out:

"Jamie?"

My hand went towards the wiggling fingers. I should have stopped, but the oddness of the whole situation made me reach out, just like a bug flying towards a bug zapper. I could not stop. I leant over and poked at the fingers. Before I realised what had happed another hand whipped out from the long hair and grabbed my wrist. As I squealed I was sucked into the hairy mass. I landed with a thud. Jamie was looking at me. Shaking her head.

"You were meant to pull me out!" she exclaimed. I just sat there puzzled at where we were. As I looked at the white jungle that was interlaced with branches, hay, mud and leaves. It dawned on me that we were trapped within the white ponies cameo!

Yes, I know. You are thinking that I definitely needed the padded room. But I couldn’t comprehend how it had happed either. As I got to my feet. I just shook my head and said:

"I told you that we should have clipped him this year!"

We laughed as we looked around. I spotted a brush that I had lost, and Jamie found an empty can of Jack complete with stubby holder. “I wondered where that had gone to, I’m sure I hadn’t drunk it all when I rested it on his ass last year.” As we wondered around picking up lost and miss placed items we started to try and figure out how to get out of this jungle. We couldn’t climb out, it was too thick. When we tried to climb over his rump to slide down his tail, there was a blockage that consisted of branches and mud. It reminded me of a beaver’s dam.

"Maybe when it starts to rain we will be washed out." Jamie suggested. I looked at the skeletal remains of what looked like a wombat curled up at the base of the white hair shafts. And just shook my head. It looked like were going to be hear till at least spring, when hopefully when he sheds his hair we might be lucky enough to be “shed” as well.

But then it happened.

Horse riders, would understand it. It happens when you are relaxed and riding on a loose rein. Your feet are out of the stirrups, and you are just enjoying the immense pleasure of simply being on your horse. It starts with their whiskers, a slight twitching, then there head starts, if you and quick enough you can get your feet back into the stirrups. If not, you just grip with your thighs and grab a hold of their mane and hang on for dear life. After the head starts moving the neck and body follow in a jaw crunching back shaking, boob wobbling all horse body shake. The type that makes riders lose their seats and fall into a heap on the ground. Laughing (I hope!).

As the world vibrated and shook beneath our feet we were flung outwards. We landed in a heap on the ground covered in dandruff, dust and hair. We stood up slowly brushing ourselves off. As we got to our feet, I’m sure that darn pony turned around and laughed at us. If you have ever owned such a pony, then you know that they can indeed laugh.

These days, things have changed a little in our grooming routine. My horse still requires little brushing, and the magical white pony still requires several hours. We did try attaching a beeping key finder to Jamie’s belt; the type that you whistle and it beeps. But as I’ve taught my horses to wee when we whistle, it can get quite messy. We tried clipping him, but after blunting several blades and blowing up two sets of clippers we gave up. 

So now Jamie wears a fluoro vest and a safety harness attached to the float, so if she is ever unlucky enough to fall in again, it’s a much simpler process to pull her out…