In my early childhood, a horse ate my hair. It was an understandable mix-up seeing that my hair was the colour of straw ( see photo for approximation of hair colour).

I was about five at the time, and at a friend’s property. ‘Bluey’, a grey horse of indeterminate years, was feeding at his stable door as I leaned against it. I had my back to Bluey so I didn’t see him placidly transfer his attention from his feed bag to the top of my head. I felt a slight breeze. My sister giggled. Then alarm bells rang in my head. I could feel large horse lips on the top of my head. He was contentedly munching on my hair, deaf to my startled protestations.

Horses are like that. They know what they want and they usually get it.

My sister’s horse, Kelly, liked his food too, and wasn’t too worried about where it came from. Kelly also had a sort of blindness when it came to food. In my teenage years I remember him nuzzling my duffle coat in what I thought at the time was a heart-warming display of affection. It wasn’t. It was an action plan to obtain food. Unfortunately for him and his stomach, he had mistaken the toggle of my duffle coat for a carrot. He ripped it off and before we could stop him, he had partially eaten it.

Horses are like that.

Of course, Kelly was a horse in a million when it came to food. A rather handsome chestnut gelding, he often spent time in the ‘starvation’ paddock due to his increasing weight. When released from the starvation paddock for his rations, he had to be watched. One memorable day my sister became distracted, and Kelly was left alone for a short time. When she returned to Kelly, she saw with alarm that he had some plastic protruding from his mouth. She caught the tip of the plastic as it disappeared into Kelly’s mouth, and pulled. More plastic appeared. She pulled, and pulled again, and again, as if reeling in a rather strange, plastic fish from the deeps. Within the plastic bag she saw a horrible chocolate brown mess. What could it be? Was it poisonous?

Then another girl raised the alarm. An entire plastic bag full of individually wrapped Mars Bars had been taken from her bag. Yep. You guessed it. Kelly had rifled the girl’s bag and had been in the process of eating the whole plastic bag containing the Mars Bars.

Thinking about it now, I suppose horses would find it hard to unwrap a chocolate bar. Knowing Kelly, I’m sure he would have tried. Having failed he just ate the whole thing!

 Of course to every story there should be an element of misadventure. Come in Danny. Danny was an old horse with worn down teeth that belonged to a friend of my sister. One day I trustingly decided to do everyone a favour and help feed old Danny. Danny was short-sighted. How do I know this? I know this because as Danny stepped eagerly towards his bucket of feed, he stepped on my foot. The pain was so great I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out.

Yep. Horses know what they want and how to get it. What is one human foot, after all? Every year as the winter chill strikes the southern states, I remember Danny through my aching foot. The broken bone healed but arthritis set in. Thanks Danny.

 Life’s lessons are often taught through the friendship of animals. I myself learnt valuable life lessons from horses. The most valuable lesson I have learned is that when a horse is hungry – get out of the way!

 Beware of a hungry horse