Perfect Percy

In the first instalment of “Percy’s Poultry” published in the “Buloke Times” last year, I promised readers that I would fill them in on the story of Percy.

I mentioned that the reason we obtained poultry in the first place was to fill the empty space my beloved horse left behind when he passed away in May 2020. 

We filled in his shelter with chicken wire so that when I looked out the window, I didn’t just see his empty stable; I hoped that the birds would fill the sad spaces with joy. Even still, after eighteen months and purchasing a pack of poultry, l find the tears come easily when thinking about Percy. 

But I’ve owned lots of horses in my life; what exactly made Percy so special?

I think the answer is that I owned a lot of different horses on my way to finding the “right” one, and Percy ticked all of the boxes. Those boxes differ between horse people. For me, I want a quiet trail horse that is willing to go out on adventures with me, alone, or in the company of others. One that you can pull out of a paddock after six months and throw a saddle on its back without a hassle.

I like a chunky build of horse that is no taller than 15hh (so that I could bounce into the saddle from the ground, if necessary), that will go over any obstacle encountered on a trail, and do so safely without spooking. 

That means passing cars, motorbikes, bicycles, pedestrians, dogs or other livestock; basically anything you can think of encountering on the road ahead, footpath beside, trees surrounding or sky above. Basically, my “right” horse was one that I could trust with my life in any situation . . . my “right” horse is a unicorn. 

Ask any horse person about bom-proof horses and they will tell you they don’t exist, but Percy was about as close as you could get . . .

In the Beginning
I could not say that he fitted the bill when I first got him though, in fact, I felt that I had been ripped off a fair bit with his purchase price. He didn’t float as well as advertised and was terribly overweight when he arrived (better than underweight though, I suppose). And the first time I brought him in after a spell, the fall broke two of my ribs and my tail bone (I learned more than Percy did that day).

To begin with, I was terrified to ride him out alone, as he would spook at the most random things, and for a long time we lived in a suburban setting along a main road that I would simply not take him on unless in the company of other riders for safety.

Percy’s incredibly social nature was what helped us overcome these issues in the end. He enjoyed going out on trails so much that he became easier to load in the float after the first few “adventures” I took him on. I joined with an adult riding group that organised different trails around the area, and took him on as many as I could.

Our first big day out was an annual Anzac Day trail ride in Rosevale, Queensland, that attracted over 400 riders each year. We went on full day rides that included historic stock routes, stopping at the pub for lunch with our horses hitched to a post outside. 

Rides were sometimes organised on private properties that offered glimpses of beautiful bushland you’d never normally get a chance to see (unless you were lost). Sometimes we just stayed at home and let the kids ride around on him in the yard, but I was always doing something with him, and I guess we learned about each other along the way.

Interstate Re-location
After those years together in Brisbane, I upended Percy’s whole existence by moving around several times and then sending him alone to Victoria roughly six months before I followed. A friend helped me to take care him as I settled in down here and then, by agistment, I made firm friends of Ian and Christine Bailey, who had Percy live with them for a couple of years.

Percy often had company to start with, I first became friends with my partner Keith and also Ros Olle through riding and often enjoyed their company, but with the highways down here being more quiet than the suburban streets of Brisbane, I had no fear of taking Percy out on his own, and he and I explored many of the dirt roads around Donald.

In the year before we left Bunker Road (Ian and Christine ended up taking us all in), Percy and I were about as familiar as horse and rider could get — almost to the point of complacency (for both of us) — so I challenged the partnership further. 

I had never been a strong bareback rider, and Percy had never liked water, so I put the saddle aside for some time and would venture out on Percy from Bunker Road, down Race-course Road to Lake Foletti for a quick dip and a canter home. I think these rides solidified my confidence in him and I trusted him enough to even hop on his back on moonlit nights and felt safe on him in just about every situation.

Percy’s Last Ride
Percy had reached his twenties by the time we moved to Corack, and he had a slow and easy retirement. Beauty is definitely in the eye of the beholder, because I saw many a nose scrunched up at my fat hairy old mongrel grey gelding; but to me he looked lovely even in his old age.

I continued to ride him lightly around home and occasionally took him out if we were both feeling adven­turous. He was always ready and willing to go as soon as I was on his back, regardless of how long between rides. 

First-timers continued to climb up on his back and experience their very first ride on a horse, and it was one of these times that ended up being his last ride. I always hopped on Percy before letting a beginner on him, to make sure he was safe and sound for them. On this particular day, he was not sound. 

He had been injured in the paddock the week before and was limping, but was not showing any signs of irrita­bility about it, so I allowed him to take a few people around at a walk, not wanting to disappoint them. I feel that Percy didn’t want to disappoint them either . . . he plodded along behind me, without even a lead rope attached, following me up and down while first-time riders beamed from the saddle, enjoying the experience.

Fittingly, their first ride, was Percy’s last ride; his last gift as he never recovered from the “limp”. After mystifying a few veterinary professionals, he was sent for x-rays that revealed he would never recover from his particular injury at his advanced age, the advice was to have him euthanized and it broke my heart to make that decision. I had finally found my unicorn . . .  except unicorns are supposed to live forever. 

Rosie Real
For a long time after Percy died, I said I’d never get another horse. How do you replace the perfect one? But the last couple of years facing cancer and now MS, I realised that I am not finished with riding yet. Somehow, in between lockdowns this year, I took delivery of a Standardbred mare called Rosie, and I was reminded of the joy I feel just being around a horse again. How silly of me to think that birds could fill that void!

Rosie reminds me of Percy in so many ways, but to be fair to her, I must remember that she will never fill Percy’s perfect hoof print in my heart . . . not yet anyway . . . Unicorns take years. But Rosie and I have those ahead, and with Percy’s memory as the goal, a friendship to build in the process.

Perfect Percy
(By Quill 2018)

I call him Perfect Percy 
At a canter, walk or trot.
His looks are nothing fancy,
But he’s the only horse I’ve got!
I’ve fallen off him several times,
Once or twice was badly hurt.
But I’d never put the blame on him,
He simply doesn’t have the dirt.
I just ignore the way he snorts
When I get the saddle out,
Riding him is safe as houses,
Plus, he’s in his twenties now!
He’s not for show or competition,
Built for comfort, not for speed.
In other words, he’s fat and lazy,
But so what? That’s all I need.
I call him Perfect Percy,
Ears always facing front.
If I could choose from any horse,
He’s the one I want!