The Horse Listener

25/07/2025

Only this morning I was thinking to myself that of all the wonderful things I’ve done in my life - a career in theatre, then journalism, writing, publishing, photography and the arts, as well as a continuing commitment to self-care, personal growth and my spiritual path, the path I’ve been most dedicated to has quite definitely been The Way of the Horse, and yet it has also been the most difficult and challenging journey of my life, for many of the reasons below. In the end, we horse people follow the horse path because we have to, no matter what. 🤦‍♀️💗

Time, Guilt, and Weather Apps: A Field Guide to the Modern Horse Owner ⛈

It begins with a noble dream:You and your horse, gliding through life with grace, ease, and a perfectly colour-coordinated saddle pad.
And then reality shuffles in wearing wet socks and holding a head torch with flat batteries.
You wake up. It’s still dark. You go to work. Still dark. You get home. Still dark. You open Instagram—bright sunshine and someone schooling flying changes. You look at your own horse, who is mostly mud. And suddenly, you feel like you’ve failed an exam you didn’t know you were sitting.

🧭 The Modern Equestrian Predicament
In my community (the CWCH Society Group—aka the loveliest horse community on the internet), I asked members a simple question:
“Are you struggling to find time for your horse?”
And the responses rolled in like a landslide made of agistment contracts, work schedules, chronic fatigue, broken floats, and the eternal mystery of why the round yard is always underwater.
The answers were honest. Messy. Beautiful. Familiar.

🧱 The Core Issues
(Also known as the Crushing Weight of Adulthood)
Let’s take a tour of the collective chaos.
🕰 1. Time Poverty
Full-time work. Commuting. Parenting. Meal prep. And the daily decision: shower or sleep? Horse time is often wedged into Sunday like a forgotten side quest.
People aren’t lazy. They’re booked. With obligations. And rain. And fences that collapse in the night for reasons known only to Satan and post-and-rail timber.

☔️ 2. Seasonal Sabotage
Winter seems to have a personal vendetta against horse people.
“My round yard is a swimming pool.”
“I fed in the dark. Again.”
“It’s too wet to walk without falling over like a sack of potatoes.”
And it’s not just winter. Summer is nuclear. Autumn is windier than a politician in a live debate. Spring? Cold, windy, and hay fever from hell.
We’ve built calendars, but the seasons still win.

😩 3. Emotional Overload & Guilt
This one hit hard.
People described themselves as overwhelmed, disappointed, frustrated, and guilty. Some used words like useless or pathetic. Others described crying, burnout, even physical illness from trying to do too much—or too little.
Apparently:
If you don’t work your horse, you feel guilty.
If you do work your horse, you feel like you should’ve done more paddock maintenance.
If you manage both, you collapse and forget what joy feels like.

🧑‍🌾 4. Physical Limits
(a.k.a. “My Body Said No, But the Horse Said ‘Where’s My Dinner?’”)
Chronic fatigue. Autoimmune flares. Grief. Menopause. The sheer exhaustion of being alive.
The expectation that we should always bounce back is not only unkind—it’s downright delusional.
And yet we keep shaming ourselves for not doing more, even when we’re running on fumes and Nurofen.

💸 5. The Infrastructure Problem
Agistment 40 minutes away.
Sloping properties.
No flat ground.
No arena.
No time to float somewhere else.
Too much time floating somewhere else.
In short: horses are magnificent, inconvenient creatures—equal parts athlete, escape artist, mud enthusiast, and full-time dependent with hooves.

🧠 6. Comparisonitis (Chronic)
Social media, as always, makes it worse.
Even people who know their horses are happy, safe, and well cared for… still feel like they’re failing because they’re not progressing.
One ride per week? Clearly not enough.
No riding at all? Clearly not a real horse person.
Fed, rugged, and healthy? Still not good enough if someone else is cantering past a mirror with “ ” in the caption.

😶‍🌫️ 7. Identity Crisis in a Saddle Pad
Beneath it all is a deeper question:
What does it mean to be a good horse person… when life won’t let you be the horse person you thought you’d be?
Many responses wrestled with this quietly.
People who used to ride every day now feel guilty for brushing a mane once a week.
People building beautiful horse properties wonder if they’re “doing enough.”
Some—softly, privately—admit they don’t know if they can keep going at all.
Not because they don’t love their horses. But because the life around their horses has become too heavy to carry without help.

🪞 The Mirror
This blog doesn’t offer a solution.
It’s not a 5-step system. There’s no slogan, no gratitude journal, no “just breathe and manifest your dream paddock.”
It’s a mirror.
To show you that the overwhelm isn’t just you. It’s not weakness or failure. It’s the world we’re all moving through—together.
And somehow, there’s comfort in that.

Next Up: I’m going to invite you to take part in a practical experiment. To see if, as a community, we can figure out what to do with all of this.
It’s called the Ladder of Yes. And I’ll write about it tomorrow.
But first— Finish your tea, take a deep breath, and remind yourself:
You’re not alone. You’re just busy, tired, and doing your bloody best.

P.S. If this hit home, hit the share button. Please don’t copy and paste the whole thing—hitting “share” will save you time (and your thumb joints).

IMAGE📸: Max arriving at a clinic on a very chilly winters day in Perth, WA ❤

22/07/2025

This is an extraordinary achievement 💗

12/07/2025

I love my mare herd. Beautiful sentiments from The Red Mare….💗

Mabel, my dark side, has not been allowed on social media for some time. But today she burst into full song and dance. (I’m trying to think which actual show tune she would sing. Something brilliant and faintly sinister and a bit witchy. And she would hog the spotlight and take up all the stage and not let anyone else have even a little bit of the chorus.)


What was it, that got her going?


Someone said, not as a compliment, that a horse was being a ‘bit mareish’. That old, old canard. (Meaning: difficult, temperamental, emotional, unpredictable, impossible.)


ALL THE KLAXONS WENT OFF.


The Mabel bit of me is hideously judgmental. She thinks it is absurd that people who say they know something about horses should use such a reductive, idiotic and plain wrong insult. She can’t understand why people tumble into cheap stereotypes. She wonders whether these people have ever actually taken a moment to look at a horse properly.


And then I thought: we don’t have to judge and rage. I once did not know the things I know now, and in ten years I shall look back on my current state of knowledge and laugh, kindly, at my ignorance. I generally learn something every day, so that will be over three thousand days of new information. Basically, Mabel might think she knows everything but in fact I know nothing.


Well, not quite nothing. Here is what I know about mares - and this is the part when I leave the judgement and the rage and step into the love and the truth.


They are clever and funny and complex. They make you rise, because most of them won’t put up with second best. This rising may change your life, because you have to learn things, in your bones, like patience and empathy and letting go of expectations and dedication and rigour and flexibility and creativity and generosity of spirit and observation skills and twenty imaginative ways to solve a problem, which work marvellously with human beings.


Mares have layers and layers and layers to them and you have to wait for those layers to reveal themselves and you absolutely can’t rush that part. The flowering and flourishing that happens if you give them time to know themselves - and to know you enough to show themselves to you - is a thing of rare magnificence.


They have a steely core and many of them will use that steel to take you to the ends of the earth. I had one little mare who would clamber over rocks and through bogs and up hills and who once carried me for a whole month when I was riding for a dead friend and I often couldn’t see where I was going because my vision was obscured by tears.

Some people say you can’t ask horses to step up for you like that, but our relationship was so sturdy and her heart was so brave that she could do it. I had nothing in me then, only heartbreak, and she did not mind. She rose, that time. I’ll never forget it.


The red mare is not quite so steely, and mostly I have to step up for her, but she has, in the past, found the way when I got totally lost in a high forest. I just gave her the reins and she turned, unerringly, for home. She has an inner strength which is more stardust than steel and she will give that strength to people who are in any way vulnerable. You can bring her the old people or the tired people or the very young people, and she’ll offer them some of her peace and magic and hope. I don’t know how she does that, but she does.


Our little Clova will take her own small human out on wild adventures for hours at a time, sometimes even a whole day. Clovie used to be frightened of everything and now she is a pioneer.


And with Florence and Tern there is softness and curiosity and comedy stylings. They are ridiculously intelligent and learn new things like the most dazzling of students. They are expressive and sometimes slightly mysterious. Their beauty makes me laugh.


Are all those things ‘mareish’? I have to stop writing now because I could make you a list twice this long. Three times this long.


There is a reason I choose mares. I am in awe of them. They live on a higher plane. And sometimes, I am able to clamber up and join them there, just for a moment. There is nothing in life quite like it.

11/07/2025

Wonderful to watch. 💗

02/07/2025

Dear ones,
I wrote this post for our little charity, Equus Alliance, but I wanted to put it on my personal page too, with a few extra words...
The thing is, after 50 years, on and off, in horse rescue, the one thing I know for sure is that when horses get old, their lives often go wrong. Our big old thoroughbred, Cracker, was one of the lucky ones, but even though he gave seven years of his life to the RDA, he almost slipped through the cracks. It's a huge responsibility taking on an old horse, because almost inevitably they have issues. And yet they are also 'elders' of the horse world, wise and often funny, loving, and in a way with what we might call self-knowledge. Why so many people feel that it's ok to part with an old horse who has given them years of service I don't know. It's hard for rescues taking on old horses, because we KNOW it's very unlikely they'll be adoptable, and it's another horse we will have to fundraise for. But then again, you meet a character like Cracker - and it's a no brainer.

So below is my post:
I'm writing this with a heavy heart. Firstly, I would like to thank you all for helping us raise, on and off Facebook, the $1500 needed to cover the recent bills.
When Cracker was treated by the vets, he rallied quickly. He ate a little dinner that night, and was back to normal for the next few days, then yesterday Amanda came out to find that our darling old boy had died.
We are all in shock. Other than the apparent mild case of colic the other day, he's been in fine fettle, and we thought he had some years left. However, it seems, because his body swelled up after his death, that he might well have had tumours in his stomach. Horses are so stoic, they often don't show they're in pain, and if they're eating and moving around, it can be very hard to tell that things are not going so well.
Cracker had a big life. He was a racehorse, a dressage horse, and a star at a Brisbane RDA centre for seven years. Unfortunately, he didn't have the best immune system when he came into care with us. He was prone to abscesses, eye ulcers and cellulitis, and his teeth were dreadful. He and his mate Phoenix came first to my place and were then in foster care with friends nearby, but it quickly became obvious that both of them had physical issues that meant they needed ongoing care, retirement from riding, and that Cracker was definitely not a candidate for adoption. (I was lucky to be gifted one beautiful, quiet ride on him, and for that I'll be forever grateful.) Our secretary on the committee, Amanda, took them in and for the past four years Cracker - thanks to Amanda and her family, and to all of you - has lived absolutely his best life.
Amanda built a track system for the horses, they had access to a sand arena and a large barn, and plenty of pasture. Away from the rain of the Northern Rivers, and with careful feeding Cracker's immune system improved out of sight, and he gained a whole new lease of life. He and Phoenix remained 'besties', while one of our other rescues, the beautiful Smokey, was very much on the outer. Cracker was King of the Kids for the four years he spent with Amanda and her family. He made it very clear he'd retired from any kind of work, but he condescended to be in a few photos here and there. Our Golden Oldie was a kind, big, powerful and noble horse. I'm sure he will have been welcomed into horse heaven with open arms.
Equus would like to thank Amanda for her hard work in giving our gentle giant four wonderful years. Gallop free in horse heaven, Cracker. You will be sorely missed.

01/07/2025

💗💗💗

In the wild foals nurse as much for comfort as they do for nutrition. Here is Hayden nursing on her Mom Scarlet as Hayden’s foal Chelsea nursing on her Mom. A family moment. Because to wild horses, family is what their lives are all about. Fabulous Photo by John T Humphrey. Please SHARE our posts and help us teach about wild horse behavior.

27/06/2025

Dear ones

We're running an urgent EOFY fundraiser, because in the past few days Cracker and Benni decided to get colic and an eye ulcer respectively! If you could help we would be most grateful... thank you 🙏

20/06/2025

I loved reviewing Robbie Coburn's first YA verse novel, The Foal in the Wire, a verse novel about the potential power of the relationship between horses and humans to transform a troubled life.
This haunting story charts the bleak territory of being a teenager with razor-like precision - until the chance of redemption, and love, is offered through an act of kindness.



https://www.smh.com.au/culture/books/a-haunting-tribute-to-the-bonds-between-humans-and-animals-20250612-p5m70q.html

18/06/2025

Swap one of the greys for a Palomino and that’s me and my money right there! 🤣💗

😁🐴

15/06/2025

WHEN IS A HORSE RESCUE NOT A HORSE RESCUE?

When I was 22, I accidentally rescued a horse. His name was King, and he was a six-year-old Arabian stallion. I'd gone down to Centennial Park stables to ask John Leckie, who ran the large livery (agistment) section of the stables, if he had any horses I could exercise.
He gave me a couple of rides, on 'normal' horses, and must have seen something he liked, because he said to me: "I've got this little stallion. His owners have done a runner. You can take him on if you like, until I work out what to do with him. But be careful when you go into his stable - take a pitchfork with you."
I must have looked a bit horrified, so John came with me, and as soon as the stable door was open, this wide-eyed whirling dervish lunged at us, teeth bared, legs striking. John held up the pitchfork, and somehow managed to clip a lead rope on this wild being, passed the rope to me, suggested I take King to the arena to "burn off a bit of energy", and left me with him. Well, he pranced and danced to the arena, intermittently lunging at me with his teeth, and then when I innocently took the leadrope off him, he reared up and tried to strike me.
Now, no doubt any sane person would have said thank you, but no thank you. But after I'd hightailed it out of the arena, I went to find John to find out what had happened, and he told me the owners had disappeared SIX weeks before, and this little 14.3hh horse had been in his stable 24/7, on three feeds a day. King was literally out of his brain on feed and no exercise. I asked John what he was going to do with him, and he shrugged, "well," he said, "probably send him to the knackery to be honest."
And something in me just knew I had to have a go. He was beautiful, and he was in dire need of help. It's too long a story to tell here, but suffice it to say, I embarked on one hell of a journey. King tried to kill me several times, but the more I got him out of his stable (and also got John to feed him much less), the more he began to calm down. Mind you the first time I decided to ride him through the old Showground to Centennial Park, I got him in safely, and was then treated to a great bucking bronc display, while he did his best to dismount me. He finally stopped when he saw the mounted police walking towards us, and when they got to us, one of them said, with what I can only say was awe in his voice: "Is that King?" And when I said, yes it was, they asked me if I'd like a mounted es**rt back to the stables, and so squished between two very large police horses, and with one in front of him and one behind, we made it back.
But still, I persisted. John said I could buy him for $400 which was what the owners owed him, and so I organised for a friend who was an equine vet to come and geld him, and as soon as he'd recovered, he went for the first part of his rehabilitation - six weeks on a friend's property not far out of Sydney.
And blow me down, six weeks later, I met an entirely different horse. Calm, happy, contented. He came back to the stables, and we had incredible fun together, getting into the park even before dawn, and riding with a couple of other mad early morning riders, cantering and galloping to our hearts content. But must as I loved him, I knew Centennial Stables was no place to keep my lively pocket rocket, and since I was working as a freelance adventure journalist, I was often away, so very sadly, but knowing it was the right thing, I organised for King to stay with my close friend, Lizzie, who lived on a property near Bathurst, and for a time King also went to a trail riding place for my sister Charlie to ride, while she was working there.
But King still wasn't quite as settled as he could be, and I knew that what he needed was HIS person, or people, somewhere he could stay forever. Lizzie put out feelers and found a family near Dubbo, and King went to live with them. He became the safest little horse a family could ever want, and would walk himself down to the entrance to the property every afternoon to meet the school bus. He lived a long and happy life. Lizzie gave me reports from time to time, but I'm sad to say I never did make it out there to see him. I think I was afraid I would desperately want to take him back.
So what is the point of this story? The point of it is that at no time, even when he was doing his best to buck me off, or he was charging me in the arena, or spinning like a tightly wound spring, did it ever occur to me that it would be a good idea to WHIP King once, let alone 42 times.
When Heath Ryan, an Olympian rider, declared that he only had two choices with Nico - the knackery or to 'rescue' him by whipping him, I wanted to say clearly - that is not rescue. I've now rescued, rehabilitated and rehomed hundreds of horses, both personally, via my work with Save a Horse Australia, via Equus Alliance, and a few traumatised souls in collaboration with Amanda Vella. I've had a Grand Prix dressage Warmblood, traumatised by a brutal rider, a Whaler that bucked off her owner and caused her a brain injury, a little Brumby who also tried to take me out several times, numerous Off the Track Thoroughbreds that my son Sam and I worked with - the list is honestly endless. Many of them have needed training, via natural horsemanship methods, to understand that they could trust me, and to also understand that I would be a strong, but kind leader for them. Whilst they may not have gone on to become competition horses, all of them gained a future, and families, and a happy ending, and they were never whipped in the process. They also, even those that became simply companion horses, had a worth, a worth beyond money, they were worthy of being alive, of being treated well and kindly.
Heath Ryan seemed to suggest that Nico should have been grateful in the home where he became dangerous and put his rider into intensive care (for reasons we don't learn), because he had a paddock to himself, he was rugged, he was fed and he was looked after.
Even in that statement it shows how far some of our top riders still are from understanding what is important to a horse, which is, put simply, the three F's: freedom, foraging and friends. Often when they have these three basic needs met, horses that have been fearful, anxious and distressed become happy and contented. Don't we owe our ex-racehorses, our competition horses - all our horses - a contented life?
In the video Nico took his beating stoically. Why? Did he just shut down, or had he experienced it before? To be honest, it looks less like a horse trying to kill its rider, and more like a rider trying to kill the horse.
But whichever way you look at it, whatever your point of view, there is one thing that video is not, it is not an example of horse rescue.

If you 'listen' with your head, heart and hands to what your horse is telling you, you can create a