SURVIVORS - BUT FOR HOW LONG .. Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBarkPoet

There are few enough to tell of between fires and the traps,

every day they have remaining is a miracle perhaps

a bonus to their lives I wonder do they realize

that their world's now in a state of near collapse.

This mob are simply known to us as the Kiandra Greys,

their heritage is long and goes back to early days

descendants of a stallion that ran at Pigeon Square

with fifteen mares with which to mate and graze.

In the Goandara region the horses were let run

so that every year old George Day would have his bit of fun

with his sons, catching yearlings - until his lease was closed

the horses then left free to laze in sun.

The Dunn family once laid claim to the red roans you see.

Yarrangobilly Caves the leasehold for this family.

Leases in the nineteen sixties no longer were renewed

Fences fell and their horses soon ran free.

The horses on the Long Plains run to Chestnut, Black and Bay

their heritage can be traced back to early mining days,

when Terence Murray turned some loose around old Coolamine,

Currango's now where their descendants graze .

It's sad to say today that you might see the mobs together,

round the saltlicks in the trap yards which are set for their demise,

for horses love the saltlicks and sweet tasting molasses

which is set out to attract them, and they cluster round like flies.

The snow leases now are all closed and fire has scarred the plains

though Mother Nature is adept at repairing with rains

that fall, and so a green tinge grows, new leaves cover the trees

and wildflowers grow over brumby remains.

And lost forever are iconic brumbies truth to tell,

Paleface and his mob disappeared - we know not where they fell,

doubtless that Paleface did his best to save them from the fires

but alas it seems flames were the herds death knell.

And now the few that do remain of our Kiandra Greys

are being targeted again and who knows how the days

will pan out for the time that's left for them at liberty.

Now feral classified - to paraphrase.

So if you want to see them running in a glorious throng

on Kosciusko, best go now - you'll hear the Currawong

and Dingoes sing a mournful dirge - a brumby eulogy

for our Government don't want them and times singing their swansong.

Scatter my ashes 'cross the plains on good old Aussie loam

place my three dogs beside me so I don't travel alone

where I'll hear the soughing wind through the gnarled snowy gums;

feel the earth shiver 'neath the hooves of galloping brums.

There's a blue sky above me and beneath me virgin soil

I'll rest now in my country after many years of toil ...

this is my land, and their land and no better place than home

to rest when one is weary ... where perhaps brumbies still roam.

10.5.2022