by Gabrielle Morgan

Created on: July 29, 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 a select Italian restaurant. Rather than throw a costly party, I chose to buy a horse. This was a far more exciting proposition.

So Julie came into my life, a fifteen hand, five year old gray mare. I was told she would be suitable for a learner rider like me, but my first ride in our five acre paddock was a disaster. She tried to brush me off under the branches of the pine trees and reared up constantly trying to get her own way. I realized my so called quiet little mare was going to be hard to handle. But after my initial terror, I determined to conquer her willful ways.

My sole ambition was to be able to canter along the country roads and to that end I set my sights. I wasn't competitive and had no wish to be a show rider.

Gradually, I overcame my fear and learned to grip with the calves of my legs while I pulled Julie's head around with the reins when she wanted to take off at her own pace. I replaced her steel bit with a rubber one which was gentler on her mouth, used a nose band and a running martingale to help keep her head down when she started to rear and carried a whip to remind her 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.

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 scent of the fox was about. Remarkably, the thought of this 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 Julie over a fence,

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