Reminiscing about bells and bolting 

Silvan looking a little sheepish but he made up for everything by winning a blue in his height class!

 

It’s funny when you celebrate a Birthday, (I have recently) you tend to have lots of wonderful phone calls from friends which inevitably leads to reminiscing. This actually happened when I rang a dear friend who’s been a part of our life for near on thirty years. Once we got past the inevitable how did we ever get to this age banter we started to chat about the early years of breeding.
Mind you, there are lots of stories associated with these years but on this day my friend said, ‘Do you remember when Silvan bolted at Maffra Show?’ I replied, ‘How could I ever forget.’

Silvan was my purebred Arabian gelding who excelled at everything.

Always agreeable Linden Silvan ridden by Carmel

He’d been broken to harness and we drove him everywhere nothing appeared to faze him. We often drove him to Newry (to get an ice cream) a small town about eight kilometres from where we lived. We did the round trip which stretched the distance out to around twenty. He took everything in his stride and never even blinked an eye at the milk tankers as they drove by.

He accepted all I taught him so we thought we might enter him in the harness class at Maffra Agricultural Show. Certainly, he was still young not quite the pure white grey he was to become but he did look very flashy. A pinkie grey with white stockings, harnessed to a lovely borrowed maroon jinker.

Now when I think about it, I love the idea of us being young and fearless though maybe a trifle naive. So off we went on the day of the show all excited, well, maybe nervous or a cross between the two – nexcited – about this new venture.

The open harness class was a big one, all sizes entered. Silvan put on a great show walking out nicely and easing into a working trot – UNTIL – a tiny Shetland pony with bells on its harness trotted by. By the time he has ding, dinged his way past a couple of times Silvan was on his toes his head and tail in that H position that spells GREAT excitement when it come to Arabians.

Yes, to cut a long story short he bolted and I held him for quite a few laps around the smaller harness ring before he took off around the the whole arena at a flat out gallop. There was no way I could stop him and when he spied the three foot wide pedestrian gate he headed straight for it. Luckily Don was with me and as he said later, ‘A six foot wide jinker would not fit through three foot gate.’ So he grabbed the reins and hauled Silvan to a skidding stop just in front of the gateway …

Now I think about the whole day with a smile but at the time – wow – blimy – #!*%## – what ever the word, it was quite some ride! We returned to the harness ring and finished all our classes and even won a ribbon.

I don’t write many poems but I do enjoy the beat of rhyming poetry so I hope you’ll get a smile from what I’ve written. Lots of horse people have Silvan moments so why not have a go at writing a poem to bring the memory to life. I admit to writing my poem with lot’s of laughing at the memory.

 

BELLS AND BOLTING

 

 

The day was bright and sunny, we practised months before.

He pulled the jinker with pizazz and style, doing all we asked for.

Yes he’s ready, we gazed with admiration at our polished steed.

So we entered him in Maffra Show, certain to succeed.

 

The open class contained all sizes, large, medium a smattering of small,

Thoroughbreds and Shetlands, pulling anxious entrants waiting for a call.

With hands held high, amidst whips a flicking, we moved forward by the double,

the crowd lined round the fences, did one sense a tiny hope for trouble.

 

Fluid strides collected, the judge requested now to trot.

The class of fifteen surged together and my stomach became a knot.

By now the class was firing, a hackney powered past.

The pace picked up and two laps in I knew Silvan forgot all I asked.

 

There came the faintest jingle growing louder with each stride,

patent harness, adorned with bells a ringing, a tiny Shetland trotted beside.

With owners smiling ear to ear they gave the whip a crack,

alarm bells now came louder as I heard another thwack.

 

Silvan’s ears flicked back and forward, his stride altered at the noise.

When the jingles passed a second time I’d lost all trace of poise.

The jingles passed another time he left no time to wonder.

Three speedway circuits round the ring his hooves now echoed thunder.

 

I thought I may have saved the day but ding, ding, ding chimed doom.

He simply bolted when the Shetland past, my thoughts flashed zoom, zoom, zoom.

We left the ring at breakneck speed to gallop the whole arena.

Snorting nostrils raged fire and brimstone, could he possibly be keener.

 

But Silvan spied the pedestrian gate and snatched the bit mid gallop.

I knew we had a problem then, the horse and vehicle would envelope.

I heaved with desperate panic; the horse decided he knew best,

until my passenger grabbed the reins and put his welcome strength to test.

 

In a nick of time the horse was stopped, ice-creams dripped forgotten.

Open mouths creased into smiles, an odd clap and shout well gotten.

Believe it or not we finished the class and much later won a ribbon.

The locals cheered, applauded and later yelled, ‘at least you weren’t a chicken!’

 

The folks in town ‘went on’ for weeks about the bolting jinker.

They joked, ‘Good thing you got that A-rab stopped, what a little stinker.’

Was it true you ask? Yes, every word that’s why it’s all been written.

The day the harness fancied up with bells, scared the daylights out of Sil-van.