Wild At Heart

The stallion holds his head high. The sun, just peeking over the horizon glistens off his cherry-bay coat. He hears me approaching and the thoroughbred turns towards me revealing the small white star, half covered by his messy forelock, and his beautiful dark eyes.

I smile at the stallion. Of all the horses in this large paddock he is my favourite. Technically he belongs to Mr George, the kind, elderly man who lives across the road. But Mr George always says he’s mine. His children long grow up and left home and his wife died, so he puts all his love in to his horses, and me, who he treats like a Granddaughter. My parents didn’t want horses, but I did; so Mr George let me chose one of his horse's to be my very own.

So every morning I go across the road to Mr George’s property to see my best friend in the whole world, Sundowner, my stallion.

Sundowner walks over to me and nudges me with his muzzle. I rub between his ears and he sighs in contentment.  I take his halter off my shoulder and pause before I put it on. He looks so beautiful standing there, silhouetted against the just risen sun, he looks so wild.

I slip the halter over his head and we walk down to the stables together. I don’t even have to use the lead rope he just walks down beside me. Some other horses follow us down eager to come in today, but as we come to the gate out the paddock I shoo them away. Today is for me and Sundowner.

I lead him in, near the stables, and tie him up to a tree. I get his grooming kit and curry and brush him all over till he gleams. I brush his mane and tail, riding it from its knots and the twigs all through his tail from the night in the paddock. I stand back and look at the beautiful stallion.

He paws impatiently at the ground. He knows where we are going to go, and like me, longs for the wind blowing his mane as we gallop along.

I put his saddle and bridal on. I unhook him from the tree, pull his rains over his head and lead him over to a tree stump to mount. I pull myself up into his saddle. I rub my hand down his neck and squeeze him forward. We walk around the back of the house and stable and point out towards the fields stretching out towards the horizon.

We pause, I send a quick prayer heavenward; thanking God that Mr George has a large property, that I can gollop for hours without reaching the border of the property. 

I urge Sundowner up into a trot then a canter. We canter for a little while but soon, the call for a wild gallop is too much for both of us. Soon we are galloping through the paddocks and fields. I put my head down on my stallion’s neck. My hair that has escaped from my messy braid is blowing in my face mixed with a Sundowner’s mane. Sundowner gallops on and on till we reach the top of a large hill.

We stop and look out from the hill at the impressive view. I dismount and lean against Sundowner’s neck. He is so gentle with me, so kind. There is something about him though, that makes me be sure that inside, he is wild. That he would fit in perfectly in a heard of brumbies. He would be happy galloping around in the freedom of the wild. But I also know that he loves me, he trusts me, he understands me much more then I could ever understand him.

But as we look out across the fields of green I know that I understand at least one thing about him. I know that Sundowner is truly wild at heart.