Wild and Free: The Life of Brumby Herds on Bonrook
On the pastures of Bonrook, the winter season has reigned over the past few months. At this time of year, the Brumby families are in excellent condition. Native grasses and water are abundant, and the warm days are dry. During my routine inspections of water points and fences across the property, I repeatedly encounter Brumby herds roaming freely across our 500 km² of land.
The horse herds on Bonrook usually consist of around four to twelve members, and interestingly, I most often see groups of seven. Depending on the alpha stallion and how he responds to perceived threats, the herds either flee or hold their ground. They often flee, as this is their natural instinct and primary defence mechanism. The stallion and his herd who remain steadfast are a fascinating subject to observe when sitting quietly in a turned-off 4WD, watching their behaviour.
Majestic Ruler of His Territory
The alpha stallion, in the powerful prime of his life—brimming with testosterone and energy—positions himself in front of the herd. He stomps his hooves, snorts and prances with grace as he locks eyes with me. He makes clear that this is his land, and I am the intruder trespassing on his territory. The rest of the herd watches attentively, always in the shade of trees or dappled light.
Yearlings, Foals and Mares
The yearlings stand at the back and sides. They know their place in the hierarchy and never take their eyes off me. The young foals are the hardest to spot, as the mares position themselves protectively between their babies and any perceived or actual danger. Pressed close to their mothers’ flanks, the foals find safety there. All members of the herd appear impeccably groomed—no knots in their manes or tails, which shine in the sunlight and ripple in the wind.
Wild, Untamed and Free
But there is not a trace of tameness here! These horses live wild, untamed and free on Bonrook. You can see it in their posture and their bearing. They radiate wildness—untamed like the lightning that splits the sky with the arrival of the monsoon.
At the stallion’s command, they move off. Almost as one body, they twist and turn at a swift pace. The lead mare, the pathfinder, scouts ahead with remarkable agility and grace. She seems to float above the ground as she carves out the trail at a brisk trot.
Now they gallop with dignity through scrubland and bush, past ironwood and salmon gum—the silent guardians of the northern savannah—and under the boughs of the bloodwood trees. The mares watch over and guide their foals closely. The yearlings prance cheekily with all the mischief of youth, only to be disciplined by their stern aunties. The great stallion brings up the rear, ensuring that no one is left behind.
Brief Encounters, Lasting Impressions
In a heartbeat of life, our paths cross. I spend only minutes in their presence before we part ways again. The horses return to their life in the untouched wild, to their family groups, and to the natural rhythm of the seasons that governs their existence. I return to my daily tasks on the land, to the rhythm of calendar and clock, while I look forward to our next encounter.
