Bullseye!

Our menagerie includes: working kelpie-cross dogs (8), a half-wild black cat (1), working Australian Stock horses (too many to count), Brangus and Brahman-cross cattle (ditto), various non-tame animal life such as wallabies and roos (out-of-bounds to shooters while in our house paddock), emus, snakes and wild pigs (yeukkk – never out of bounds to shooters) … and then there are the kids ponies.

One such little pony came into our lives last year. He had the same name as Dash initially, but Dash had other ideas. Inspired by his then-favourite movie (Toy Story) he was immediately re-dubbed ‘Bullseye’. It was a good fit ‘cause Dash looks a bit like the little cowboy, Woody – his limbs are long and lanky and his butt is just as scrawny!

The new addition to Granite Glen had plenty of ‘personality’ too – he was absolutely TINY (a cross between a Shetland and a Shetland Pony and standing less than one metre tall at the wither) and full of attitude.

Note the difference in height between the TOP of Bullseye and SSB’s knee on his normal-sized horse!

He was gorgeous to look at – chestnut and white with a wild thick mane and tail. His tiny white hooves were smaller than a tea cup, and he was agile and lithe in his movement. He walked fast and with purpose – tapping along on those tiny hooves like a four-footed Tap Dog.

Bullseye wasn’t really bad so much as, well, cheeky and naughty – indeed, once a kid was on his back he was quite the little gentleman.

But all bets were off once he was unloaded.

He dashed around little ones to get through the gate first, darted and ducked to be first at the pellet bucket. Luckily he was small enough to grab and hold back (for me anyway, not for Dash and The Little Woman, who yelled at him to not be so naughty!). He never kicked out, but would threaten with his miniscule little rump if he was being thwarted. His manners made me fume, and I just couldn’t trust him alone with the kids.

In an effort to improve his attitude, I would make him wait for his feed. Sit by the feed trough and refuse to empty the scoop into his part of the feeder until he showed some manners, and ate nicely from the palm of my hand. It took up to half an hour for this to happen initially, but he gradually improved. The kids sat by me and tried it too.

They learned the value of patience with animals.
Despite his “shortcomings” (haha, oh dear!) Bullseye managed to worm his way into our affections. He was also the first to take my firstborn mustering. Mustering was a reasonably easy endeavour when the season was dry, with visibility pretty much 20-20, but less so after our much-needed rains.

It was a sight to behold. Well, it would have been: Bullseye plus Dash simply didn’t add up to the height of the grass in the paddock being mustered. The men joked about losing them both if they let Bullseye off the lead. They roared as they imagined a rustling and waving of fluffy grass heads indicating the little duo, like the bubbles of an underwater diver. Dash was not amused. Even reassured that no-one was going to cut him loose in the towering buffel grass, all he got to see was the rear end of Dad’s horse and lots of grass seeds. Not fun apparently.

Nonetheless, Dash and Bullseye were little mates. They shared carrots and apples, and many a ride within the confines of the mega GG house yard. It was a happy (if not hiccup-free) relationship. They were growing together and gaining confidence in each other.
Then last week something happened.

One dog got too close to the Big Horses. So one of the taller geldings lashed out with a hind hoof. And Bullseye dashed across the mob to evade another dog. And the two connected. Bullseye.

SSB was just metres away. Dumbfounded. The suddenly still horses and dogs looked around. But not Bullseye. He didn’t move.

I took the kids and visiting cousins for an abrupt drive up the paddock. SSB took care of the tough stuff. I couldn’t bear to think about it.

I told Dash the next morning. My heart aching for my little man and his pony. He cried. Said it wasn’t fair. And was Bullseye on top of the ground or under?

Then we made some bouquets. And a little garden in his honour. But not on top of Bullseye.