Sadly last week we lost our beautiful, quarter horse, Baldy.
Our hearts are heavy, his paddock is bare and the farm is now incomplete....
Baldy was born in1993 and at five years of age was bought at a horse sale in Tamworth by my father in law, who at the time was under the influence of alcohol and had no recollection of his purchase until the following day. Trained and ridden by my then teenage brother in law (Luke Hullick), he proved himself to be an excellent cutting horse. Cutting is a western style equestrian competition in which a horse and rider work as a team before a judge or panel of judges to demonstrate the horse's athleticism and ability to handle cattle during a two and a half minute performance.
Baldy (known as Baldy Freckles when working), together with Luke, won many prestigious awards over his eight year working life, such as certificates of merit, of ability, a few thousand dollars in prize money, a western saddle and mostly always finished amongst the top three entrants. His muscular, stocky physique gave him the strength to become a champion, while his intelligence and understanding was astonishingly impressive. Although he was a gorgeous light chestnut color, Baldy was actually classed as a paint horse, due to his white tummy. However, you would have never noticed this unless he rolled in front of you.
In 2010 I arrived home one afternoon from work, poured myself a cuppa and ventured out onto our verandah for what I thought to be a well deserved break. Sipping my coffee, I nearly choked as I suddenly heard the neighing of a horse sounding across our farm, and as I looked up, there was Baldy, looking at me! I had wanted to own a horse since I was a little girl and at the age of forty-three my wish was finally granted (never say never!). Sixteen years old by then, Baldy needed a new, loving home, as the family was shifting from Northern Victoria to South Gippsland, and my husband felt this would be a perfect surprise for me, which it absolutely was. I was thrilled.
Baldy and I grew to know each other well and I adored him. He resided in our front paddock next to the farm drive-way and would greet us each time we returned home. I would spoil him with carrots (he would kill for), I would stroke and brush him whenever I could and I made sure his hooves were trimmed and oiled regularly. Every morning I would place his fly mask over his head to keep those wretched flies away and often I would apply sunscreen to his white nose. He didn't like it much, but his nose was prone to sunburn. He was my responsibility, my friend, and he deserved all the care, love, attention and nurturing I could possibly give him in his retirement. He had worked hard.
In 2013, after a weeping left eye, Baldy had his cancerous third eye lid surgically removed – just in time apparently. However, late last year, his eye began weeping again and after desperately attempting to save it with medication, he was put under anaesthetic to have his eye removed.
He would be ok. I had spoken with horse owners, who had been in similar situations and I was assured their horses were fine, some even returned to show jumping. So I was confident Baldy would get through this too. However, sadly more cancer was found behind the eye area and surrounds and the only humane option was to let him go during the operation, there and then. It was heart-breaking.
The following day (on a public holiday) my husband and I brought Baldy's body home to our farm
and buried him. Australia Day won't ever be quite the same for us now. Two days later I was once again sitting on our verandah, reminiscing about Baldy, when I swear I heard him snort as he often used to do. Imagination? Maybe. We will miss our beautiful boy for a long time to come and I am thankful for the six years I was able to spend with him. He'd lived a wonderful life and that was the main thing...
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