Halado Park Performance Horses

The Horse Who Started It All

by Katherine Szalay

I was your typical horse-mad teenage girl who desperately wanted a horse more than anything else.  My parents recognised the danger and endeavoured to deter it by all means possible - a budgie, a cat, fish...finally dogs.  They just didn't get it.  Fortnightly rides at the nearby trail riding centre did nothing to deter me over time and my dog was constantly persecuted by being lunged and taught to showjump (he ended up being a Pal Superdog for a while).  I became a dedicated stable cleaner for some horsey family friends during my holidays, groom at shows and it was all worthwhile for the 5 minutes I got to ride after the horse had been worked.  They went through a few horses in that time  and then ended up with a lovely chestnut Thoroughbred called Flynn.  At the time, he was probably the most difficult horse I had ridden, with a very bouncy trot and admittedly I felt he was a little too much for me.  Not long afterwards, he got very bad stringhalt and was turned out to recover.  I continued to help out with one of the other horses and his career as a showhorse.

In February 1994, age 14, I walked into the stable block and came face to face with a chestnut Thoroughbred tied up with a red ribbon around his neck.  On the ribbon was a tag - "To Katherine".  I stopped, unable to believe my eyes.  My dad was prepared with a video camera in a corner somewhere taping the whole thing.  Everyone had conspired to give me the lovely Flynn and had even scrounged a saddle and other basic requirements.  Flynn had recovered although the stringhalt still flared up when backing and floating.  That first ride with Flynn was surreal...I was riding MY horse.  While I didn't want to tell everyone that I thought he might be too much for me (remembering my feeling of 18 months ago), I soon realised that I had improved as a rider too and we were well suited to each other.

There were conditions of course.  My school marks had been bad for some time and the condition was that the marks improve or horse goes.  I'm sure it was with some self-satisfaction that my parents watched my marks go up, convinced their bribe had worked.  In reality, the poor marks had been a result of sheer misery and frustration.  There was no effort on my part to bring my marks up - it just happened.  I was finally happy. 

Another condition was due to an old injury.  Flynn had had bone chips removed as a racehorse and had a weak right knee, characterized by a lump of synovial fluid.  Under no circumstances was he allowed to jump.  But that was okay.  I was content to just ride around, with no idea of the concepts of riding on the bit, collected or engaged.  In the holidays, I helped out on the property turning horses out and cleaning stables.  I worked with the first warmbloods I had come across including the stallions Polarschnee, Ostentatious and CC Polarnicus.  Ostentatious stood 17.1h which to me seemed impossibly huge and terrifying.  The significance of these horses and indeed my misconception of 17.1h as being "huge" was to play a part only a year later.

I started going to hack shows.  While not particularly competitive, we still brought home a few ribbons and at my 2nd ever show, Kapunda Agricultural, we did really well and I was starting to really enjoy this showing business.  We had a show the following weekend.  We arrived at the stable on Friday night to find Flynn in a stable, lame.  He had jumped out of his yard.  The vet was called and when he was finally able to come and x-ray, the diagnosis was not good.  Two hairline fractures and six bone chips.

I didn't know what to do.  I was at a loose end thinking my horse would have to be put down.  But there was some hope.  With stable rest and careful rehabilitation, he *might* come good again.  It was at this point that details started to come out of the woodwork from the staff.  Flynn had always been paddocked with a mare.  For some reason, the property owner moved the mare and then put Flynn in a small yard away from all the other horses.  He jumped out and went galloping down the drive to the mare.  She put him back.  He jumped out and so forth.  The staff reminded her that he was not meant to be jumping, but she kept putting him back.  After six times, Flynn jumped out and was lame.  The staff put him in a stable, but were told by the owner not to ring us under any circumstances or they would be fired. 

So there we were, stuck on the property with a horse whose knee couldn't withstand a float journey and forced to put up with this woman who had seemingly done this to my horse on purpose.  At the first opportunity (after about 3 months), we moved him to Mallala - pancake flat desert country.  It was there that his rehabilitation began.  The "walking through the desert" scene in Phar Lap is the best way to describe it.  Walking, walking, walking.....miles upon miles.  Leading him along the highways with road trains roaring past.  Gradually, I introduced some trotting, jogging along beside him.  Then one day, he was ready for me to ride him.  He was carefully lunged, and then I got on and walked him around.  I was nearly crying.

At this point came one of those lifechanging decisions that can make the difference between which way your life takes you.  We moved him to Adelaide Equestrian Centre where I met Marian Malecki.  I was riding Flynn again now, though with a very careful warmup on the lunge first.  I was getting the hang of this "on the bit" thing and was entertaining the idea of entering him in the Kapunda Ag show again...a year after his last show.  Mr Malecki was away a lot, but I became his "project".  I don't know how he knew - I never saw him watching - but the moment I finished lunging and was in the saddle, he would walk around the corner and I would get a lesson to end all lessons (Malecki students will know what I mean!).  I had no idea at the time just what kind of an influence he was having on me, nor that I was getting the best and most solid grounding for dressage available to anyone in the country...and for no cost!  He taught me how to ride with a sensitiveness and subtley I hadn't really thought about before...and we came home from Kapunda Ag show with a stack of ribbons.  It was really just a symbolic gesture...it was Flynns' last show.

Flynn was an amazing schoolmaster for me because as I became a better rider, he became more horse to ride.  He was always an incredibly joyful energetic horse who only contained his energy as much as he thought I could handle.  I only ever came off him twice and both times, the look on his face was almost apologetic (the first time, he even gave a concerned nicker).  He taught me to ride hot, sensitive horses, but always kept me humble. 

The fact that Flynn couldn't jump was no big deal to me.  I was becoming addicted to dressage, although I suspect this was Mr M's plan all along.  I did dabble a bit with the school ponies over small jumps and my family was reunited with an old relative who ran a stud farm and I began helping her out with her Bed & Breakfast trail rides and breaking in her youngsters.  Mr M was not as impressed as I was expecting when I told him I had broken in my first horse (I was 16).  However, always fair, he asked me one question: "Did he buck?" "No." "Good.  Then you did it correctly".  And that to me was high praise.

I knew as well as Mr Malecki did that I couldn't go very far with Flynn, even though we were dabbling in elementary by then (without the strenuous extensions).  Mr Malecki offered me weekend work and this is where my eyes were really opened.  The *average* height of the horses, mostly warmbloods, in that stable was 16.2h!  The biggest was the grey Janek who stood at an impressive and terrifying 18.2h.  I was allowed to ride him on the weekends.  After I got over the initial fear of his sheer height (and I can assure you, no horse's height intimidates me now!) and after I developed a rather unique way of mounting (Mr M's cavalry training forbade any assistance to mount) I learnt what a fantastic opportunity this horse was giving me.  He taught me extensions and flying changes, and why you should always dismount correctly off a big horse instead of simply vaulting off!

We stayed there for about 18 months where I continued to get top class instruction and my choice of Mr Malecki's horses to ride.  Due to staffing problems there and the fact that we weren't living close enough to check on things every day, we had to move temporarily.  It was then that the slight hint of ringbone on Flynn's left pastern started to become apparent.  It became quite vigourous, turning articular and he became too unsound to be ridden most days.  Then a wonderful thing happened.  We bought a property at Woodside.  I could finally live with my horse and never have to worry about agistment care again!  Flynn wasnt really rideable anymore, but he was such a lovely horse it just didn't matter.

We started to accumulate other horses and I always had something to ride, although it was sad to see the look in Flynn's eye when he realised he wasn't getting ridden.  It was in this new lifestyle that Flynn started to show his true colours as to what an amazing horse he was.

King arrived - King, who was totally blind in his left eye.  He had adapted perfectly well and got around the paddock just fine (he proved to be an exceptional hunter in his later years), but then I started noticing something else.  Whenever I led King up from the paddock, Flynn would desperately try to put himself between King and me.  I wondered at this and started watching in the paddock.  Whenever King would move somewhere, Flynn would accompany him on his left shoulder. 

When Titan and his dam came home and shared the paddock with King and Flynn, I started to notice another interesting occurance.  At 2pm every day, Girlie (the dam) would take Titan over to where Flynn was grazing.  Titan would then lie down and go to sleep.  Once he was asleep, Girlie would go off on her own grazing while Flynn stood watch over Titan.  Girlie might go off for over an hour, sometimes out of sight, but she would then come back and get Titan and they would go their seperate ways.

I learnt very quickly that if I ever heard Flynn call out, it meant something was wrong.  A horse out, an emu trespassing, or some other thing that just "wasn't right".  He was always justified in calling.

The ringbone was getting much worse and very quickly.  We had tried a couple of different types of shoe but even on bute he was walking more and more on his heels and was nearly on the flesh.  The farrier and I were out of ideas.  It became horribly apparent that the next shoing would be do-or-die and in desperation I emailed a Journeyman farrier in the USA who detailed a course of action.  My farrier was thankful for it too as he didn't know what to do next.  It worked.  Not only did it stop the ringbone from growing, but it alleviated the pain enough that Flynn could walk again and even came off bute.  He was 19 by now.

He spent the next few years as No.1 horse....everyone knew he was special and he was adored by humans and horses alike.  Even non-horsey people were drawn to him for his gentleness and honesty.  The only time he ever showed the slightest viscousness was when a horse tried to kick me in the paddock.  Out of nowhere came a chestnut flurry of mane and hooves as he flew past me to latch his teeth onto a surprised mare's rump. 

My last conversation with Mr Malecki was some years ago now over the phone.  I had found myself a job with a dressage rider and was riding her GP horse.  I was at the point where I had to make some serious decisions in regard to taking my dressage further and I had called Mr M for advice.  I was starting to doubt myself a bit...wondering if I really had what it took.  Those of you who remember Mr M will know he never dished out praise lightly.  What he said to me next knocked the breath out of me and left me in tears, unable to answer.  He said "You could put Australia on the map".  He had never said anything like that to me before and deep down I still feel like I let him down because I never went down that road.  Mr Malecki died in 2004.

There came a morning when I was lying in bed, on my day off.  I could hear the usual noises.  My mum had fed up before work and the horses were just cleaning up their hay.  I heard a slight squeak of a gate opening and then a scuffle.  I knew exactly what the noise was and my heart stopped.  I flew out of bed in my pyjamas and bare feet to find the gate between Flynn and the 3-year-old Titan open and Titan "playing" with Flynn.  Now Titan has always been a very bold upfront horse and his idea of playing would be rough by any horse's standards.  It was certainly too much for the aged and crippled Flynn who was genuinely scared.  Putting total utter faith in Flynn, I turned my back on him and faced up to Titan.  I stood like that between them both, constantly driving the young horse off, for what seemed like ages.  I didn't know how long we would stay like that - I would have stood there all day until someone came.  Luckily I didn't have to wait that long as Titan soon grew bored and I was able to drive him away and into a stable.

Flynn was in shock.  He had bite marks all over him - although nothing serious - and had trouble walking.  There was a bad graze on a hind fetlock where he had probably stepped on himself.  He was lame on that leg, but it wasn't a deep wound so I dressed it and left him in a darkened stable with lots of pats and cuddles.  Over the next few days, he wasn't getting any better on that leg so the vet was called.  Flynn was making a gallant effort to continue what he considered his "duty" of looking after the other horses, but he was obviously in a lot of pain when he walked.  The vet could think of nothing other than that the wound had turned septic and gave me some oxytetracycline.  This had no effect either and I called the vet again after the course had finished.  He still couldn't find anything else and was not optimistic at all about the wound and its effect, but as an afterthough took an xray.

He rang me half an hour later in disbelief.  He had walked past the xrays as they were developing and stopped to look - because what was there must surely have been a film irregularity.  There was no pastern.  It was in a hundred pieces.  He had never seen anything like it.  How could both myself and the vet have missed a break like that for nearly 2 weeks?  Why did Flynn have to be so brave?  How could I forgive myself for letting him go on like that?  I knew exactly how it had happened.  He had developed a habit of sitting right back on his haunches to turn...doing that under pressure with Titan harrassing him had simply overloaded the brittle, old bone and it had shattered.

At age 23, after overcoming bone chips as a youngster, a broken knee to be ridden again, and extremely agressive articular ringbone, I had always wondered how I would find the strength to make the ultimate decision and if I'd know when.  In the end the decision was made for me.  I rest easy in the fact that I never wasted a moment with him.  I made the most of every minute I had with him.  He was buried outside the house and while I lay in bed that night, listening to my dog whimpering in the agony of cancer before he too was put down the next day, I heard a sound that was both uplifting and heartbreaking.  Uplifting because it was the sound of a horse walking down the drive past my window...the proud, jaunty walk that was always Flynn's.....the sound of hoofbeats made by a once-again sound Flynn.  And it was heartbreaking because there was never any hesistation in his step as he walked past and left me.

I often felt and heard my dog lying on the floor by my bed as he always had, but Flynn never came back. 

Flynn will continue to be a part of Halado Park and be remembered through the new logo.  He was such a big part of the stud in the early days, it is an honour that only he is worthy of, where he will always be remembered with fondness.  The original photo is further up this page.