by Gabrielle Morgan

Created on: April 16, 2008   Last Updated: June 25, 2009

A NEAR FATAL FENCE

At the age of twenty-one when most people of my generation celebrated this great milestone in life with a grand party and were given "the key to the door," I was already married. My twenty first birthday was celebrated quietly by dining out at one of Melbourne's select Italian restaurants. Rather than throw a party, I chose to buy a horse. This was far more exciting.

And so Julie came into my life, a fifteen hand five year old gray mare. I had been told she would be suitable for a beginning rider like me. My first ride in our five acre paddock was a shock. She tried to brush me off under the branches of the pine trees and reared up constantly trying to get her way. I realized my so called quiet little mare was going to be hard to handle. But after my initial terror on her back I became determined to beat her.

At that stage my sole ambition was to be able to canter along the country roads, so it was to that end I set my sights. I wasn't competitive or wanting to ride in shows.

Overcoming my fear, I learned to give Julie the message that I was the boss. Over time she accepted me and I became very much one with my horse. I rode every day and amazingly became quite a strong rider for one who was in no way daring. I felt my way with her.

Then my riding life opened up to a new challenge. The Melbourne Hunt Club was seven miles down the road and some of our friends had joined. My husband who by this time had acquired a flashy black thoroughbred was tempted to investigate, so we went to watch the Meet. It was exciting to see the horses and hounds with the Master and Whippers-in in their red coats and the field of riders on snorting horses all ready for the chase.

Now to join this illustrious set of riders I would have to be able to jump over three foot fences and gallop across muddy paddocks on cold winter mornings when the scents were about. This, remarkably, did not deter me and I set about learning to jump. This in itself was quite a feat on my horse. She could jump but was not always inclined to and would prefer to rear just as she reached the fence.

When I had reached a stage of comparative skill at jumping the big day arrived for my first Hunt. After "skolling" down a Stirrup Cup, I rode off behind the Master quite terrified among the galloping horses all stirred up before the first fence. I clung to my horse's neck as I sailed over, screaming as I went, to the relief of landing on the other side. I was on my way. The next fence was thick with mud and the horse ahead of me fell leaving its immaculately dressed rider covered in mud. The rider was known to me, an experienced show rider. I thought, if she couldn't get over the fence what will happen to me. I set Julie at it and over she went. I couldn't believe it. I finished the day celebrating with champagne and chocolate cake after jumping thirty six fences on my memorable first Hunt. I was elated, the dye was now cast.

For six years I hunted after that, bonding with many friends, sharing the excitement of the Chase. I saw many falls over the jumps, but only experienced one myself which could have been very serious. I was riding up to a fence in a narrow pathway. The horse ahead of me baulked and I was close following. I thought my horse would not jump when suddenly she decided to, throwing me slightly off balance. I fell the other side of the jump. I felt the imprint of her hoof on my cheek, but amazingly she didn't put the full pressure of her leg behind it. Horses, I think, avoid you whenever possible. It was like divine intervention, I don't know how she managed to avoid putting her full weight on my cheek.

The Hunt Club is having its 150th anniversary next month, so I write this story with nostalgia upon me.

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