HAMPTON PLAINS by Becky Middleton Cowcill
Memories of my time in the 1970’s, visiting Rusty’s farm to ride the horses.(editor's note Rusty is the late Howard James Gill and Hampton Plains is in the Shire of Corrigin.)
I think I was about 12-13 years old the first time I went out to ride the horses. A girl who lived 4[?] houses down from us had been going out but had recently got her own pony, and her family was leaving town soon, so she offered to introduce me to Rusty, who I did know of through seeing him around town and my father Norm being good mates with his son-in-law George. We would arrange a time to leave town by visiting Rusty, who was usually out in the back shed fixing bridles or other horse stuff. He had a lot of tools and made most of the things needed. The shed smelled of leather and oil. It was also where the lovely shiny wooden single sulky was stored. This was used for several weddings and in the local shows. I think it even went to Albany or somewhere south for a wedding—a huge undertaking for all.
We would leave around 1 to head out to the farm in the big old Chevrolet Impala, of which Brian also had one, plus I think there was another old one at the farm.
As we pulled up under the trees at the back of the farmhouse, he would toot the horn and call out “Come on” several times, and the horses who lived in the paddocks directly behind the house would start to come in. We then would walk up to the yards, and if they were a bit slow in coming in, the whip was cracked, and they were called again—the whip noise usually aroused a little more speed. Once in, you would choose a horse for that day, catch it, and then bring them outside to be brushed all over, feet cleaned and checked before you even thought about riding them. Rusty by then didn’t ride much and used a single buggy to come out with us. Michael, the then housekeeper’s son—his mum Verna later married Brian—would always ride Mandy. Rusty would take either Tammy, Toby, or Merrylegs out in the buggy.
I can’t recall how many horses he had at that time; it seemed a lot, but I can only recall 7-8, but it felt like more.
Tammy was the biggest, about 17-18 hands, and was the beginner horse as she was generally reliable and had the fastest trot, honed after many years pulling the buggy. She was a bay, and I believe her mother Bonnie was part draught, and her father was from Fred [or his father] Price’s stallion Toby. Tammy was always reluctant to canter; the few times I managed to get her to, I usually regretted it as she was not very smooth at all, although she was always faster once her nose turned for home.
I think all the mares shared the same sire, but there were a few different mothers, but they had all passed by then. (Bonnie was the dam of Tammy, Mandy, Goldie, Misty, Merrylegs & Toby. Bonnie and the original buggy was gifted to Rusty by his brother Cyril Gill of Wymena Hills because he was frightened the very young grand children would get hurt by the horse!)
Mandy was Tammy’s sister, a bit smaller bay with a white blaze and had an armchair canter. I envied Michael just sitting there as I was bouncing, keeping time to Tam’s big stride trot. (When Rex White visited Corrigin for the Show he rode Mandy over the jumps and she was a very good jumper, especially given Mandy's breeding included a touch of draught!)
Merrylegs was a darker bay and a much finer-boned and gentle horse. I only rode her a couple of times, and she wasn’t ridden much, used mainly in the buggy.
Toby was her brother, a lighter-colored bright bay, with a very shiny coat, and for a stallion, very easy to handle, although we had to check no mare was coming into season first. He was a delight to drive in the buggy, and Rusty once entered Toby and me into the novice buggy in the Corrigin show, and we earned a ribbon with the judge’s comment being that I had good hands and showed a lot of promise.
The horse that I mostly rode after passing muster first with Tammy was Goldie. As you would guess, she was a very light liver chestnut, or as Rusty put it, a temperamental bloody redhead—funny considering he was a redhead as well. She could go from one week to the next varying so much in temper that sometimes I could tell before even touching her whether it was worth a ride that day or not. I could ride sometimes without touching the reins and just leg pressure to fighting every step of the ride… Rusty was correct, but I still loved her.
Misty, a lovely light chestnutt with roan colouring, was there as well; she was young and still being broken in. Rusty had her earmarked for his eldest Grandson, James Rendell. (James became her regular rider and Misty went to live at Twin Ridges.) then I rode her a few times to check her out. She was lovely and gentle and had a great nature. I think it was her that stepped through a fence or something and had a deep inverted V-shaped wound on her leg. She was shifted to the house backyard out of the dirt, and each day for many weeks, Rusty would check the wound, trimming and debriding it, and eventually, it healed flat and smooth with a small scar. Helping him was gruesome, but she handled it well, and it was a good outcome—if left to heal unaided, she would have had a huge scarred lump. I remember riding her once down a firebreak when a bird startled her, and she leapt sideways. I recall looking down to see the dirt below and thinking SHIT… just as she jinked back under me, and all was well again. A polite and well-mannered animal.
There was another grey mare whose name I can’t recall. Rusty purchased her from his friend Len White at Narrakup near Albany to have foals with Toby, but she never fell pregnant and was sold. Another grey (white) mare—Variety, I think was her name—was also purchased from the White's and she was the mother to Flicka, Cherry, and Lady. Flicka and Cherry were paired together for the double buggy. Lady was quite small and delicate, had a soft pink nose, and was only halter broke, all three being grey/white.
After Toby had fathered the three and once lady was born Rusty decided he didn’t want any more babies and had him gelded so then he could run in the paddock with the mares, which he enjoyed greatly. He was about 4? I always found him to be ok unless someone was in heat then he was a bit difficult, understandable really! I rode him a few times as a stallion and he responded well to commands. I loved how he would put on a show when working tucking in his head and holding his tail up, so pretty.
He would always pretend to not want to be caught, but once he was, he was such a softy. I was brushing him once, and his bottom lip was drooping and drooling, then he kind of leaned sleepily onto me before sheepishly standing again. When I bought the four horses from Glenda after Rusty passed, he was playing hard to catch until I got close enough for him to smell, then he got all alert and came straight to me, rubbing my shirt. He definitely remembered me even some 20 years later. He was so nice to watch in the buggy; he would hold his head and tail up and looked magnificent, a very good-looking creature, and he knew it!
My first jumping experience was unplanned. We were riding the horses up the creek line, and around the bend, a tree had come down, which wasn’t there some weeks before, so both Goldie and I tensed, then over it we went, me hanging on tightly, not sure who was more surprised to make it safely, her or I!
Another time, Michael and I went for a fast race up towards the Corrigin Quairading road several paddocks from home. When I turned too sharply, forgetting that Goldie could spin on a dime, over the side I went. Goldie headed for home quick smart. Michael waited, and I stood up to begin the long walk back, feeling a bit sore in my shoulder/arm as I had crashed into the ground onto it. Ten minutes later, Rusty came galloping up on Goldie. I was made to get back on and ride home—really painful to pull myself back on—then walked back. A good lesson for us both. Later that week, I was X-rayed and had broken my arm. Rusty double-dinked back with Michael.
We usually rode for about an hour, checking the sheep and cows, moving them as needed. Then it was back to the house for the most marvellous afternoon tea—Verna certainly could cook. Then it was back for another ride, usually the same horse but not always; they would wait tied to the rail. After we had finished riding, we would hose them down to get rid of any sweat marks. They enjoyed it in summer, not so much in the winter, then a nice roll in the sand to dry off. Once all the work was done, we would give them hay fed from the stook[?] hay pile; this had been baled into little sheafs and stored in a shelter near the corral, the string cut from Rusty’s pocket knife, always on hand in his pocket.
After Brian and Rusty built the double buggy, the horses needed to get used to working in tandem, and it took a bit to work out which side and who went in first when tacking them up—quite a challenge early on, but we all soon got used to it. The pole was made from a small, probably Jam tree from the farm, trimmed and varnished. Rusty made the extra joining pieces needed as it was different to the single sulky style.
I was at the farm most weekend around the time the three greys were born. It was Flicka, (named by James Rendell after the My Friend Flicka Books) and Cherry that paired together. Lady, named by James with Rusty, was the third born and quite a lot smaller and more delicate looking hence the name - as Rusty was quite old by then she was never really broken in beyond halter and feet work and was certainly never ridden.
After Rusty passed, I heard that Glenda as Executor was sorting the Estate, so I bought Toby, Merry, Cherry, and Flicka, plus the old double farm buggy that was made from a car using the wheels and axles, then building a wood floor and then two Chev seats for comfort. My kids and I had lots of fun driving them around the farm. After promising Allen that being old horses (between 17-23 years), they wouldn’t live that long, we had them for many years; they all lived between 35-42 years. Toby and Merry remained good friends. Toby went blind, several years before he passed but the friendship between him and Merry was so strong that he just touched his shoulder to her side, and she walked carefully, slowly just ahead of him and lead him to water and food. They went on for a while like that - beautiful to see - and they died only weeks apart.
Cherry passed first from some swelling or cancer in her eye region then Merry, Toby and finally Flicka they all lived into the late 30’s. Deb, Rusty's Granddaughter,) could never believe it anytime I caught up with her. We also took the old farm double seater buggy and the kids and I would drive about regularly such a peaceful way to travel.
We lived at the Bulyee farm at that time then shifted up to the Quairading farm in 1998, the horses did NOT like to travel and getting them onto the truck was very hard work got Toby on first then his girls complied although Cherry resisted a lot, I was lucky to have an experienced northern territory station worker visiting family at the time without him I may have had to walk them the 20k trip.
I enjoyed many years of horse-riding at the farm and still love the smell of the the horses. The Photographs were taken in March 1996. This was possibly when I picked them up after Rusty died and Mum (Glenda Rendell) was sorting out the farm. Flicka has the grey mane although it was white when she passed. Toby 22 years, Merry Legs 21, Flicka 19, Cherry 18.
I like to think they had a nice retirement and stayed friendly Toby always acted like he didn’t want a scratch until you started then his eyes would close and his bottom lip would droop open once he leant on me nearly asleep Flicka enjoyed people as well always snickering when she saw you. I have lots of good memories of the farm and riding.
