RDNZTBMag2026

Horsing Around MIKE HILTON When I first arrived in Australia in 1952 at the age of 16, I worked on a sheep and wheat farm near Gulgong in New South Wales. One of the first things I learned was how to ride a horse so I could muster sheep. I don’t know her breed but my horse, Bay, had a beautiful tan coat. She was reluctant to let anyone ride her and was content to simply roam around the paddock. So, catching her became a problem. As soon as Bay would see me approach with a bridle in hand she’d trot off. It would take at least ten minutes before she would give in. My only option was to trick her. The next time I wanted to ride her, I walked out into the paddock holding a bowl of oats. As I walked past Bay I scooped up some of the oats from the bowl and let them fall back through my fingers. The smell of the delicious oats was too much for this spoilt horse. She would blow her nose and trot straight up to me, before greedily helping herself to the oats. This would then give me the chance I needed to quickly throw the bridle around her neck. It was worth the effort, as Bay would do what I say for the remainder of the day. But, after falling for this little trick for several days, she eventually caught on and trotted away when she saw the bridle. A few days later, I noticed Bay on her back rolling in a firebreak. She must have been there for some time because she’d made a dip in the loose soil from rolling around and couldn’t get back up on her legs. Carefully kneeling down next to her, I put my nose to hers and said, “Hello Bay, having trouble getting up?” Neighing back at me, with a look that could kill, she let me push her to one side so she could finally get up. Giving herself a good shake, she gave me a high-pitched ‘thank you’ neigh, then galloped off. From that day, she would trot up to me and, with a knowing shrug, happily let me put on her bridle. reader ’ s digest 18   MAY 2026 PASTURES GREEN ROBIN KEOWN My friend Pamela and I are in an orchestra group. Last November, we drove to Marlborough, New Zealand, for a ‘Top of the South’ orchestra music workshop. We enjoyed each other’s company, discussing the repertoire: a mixture of classical and modern music. I mentioned howmuch I was enjoying practising Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony on my cello, when Pamela exploded into a fit of laughter. Stifling her laughter, she explained that recently, while she had been practising her violin for the workshop, her pet lamb, Baabie, had wandered into the house, as it often did. Not wanting to break her concentration, she ignored her pet and carried on with her practise until a strange noise caught her attention. The lamb was nonchalantly chewing on a piece of paper that lay on the floor. Realising that the sheet music must have fluttered off the music stand, she leapt up to rescue it. The clever lamb obviously had ‘good taste’ – it was the Pastoral Symphony! I, too, broke into laughter and responded that the lamb would have done better with Bach’s ‘Sheep May Safely Graze’! When I first started gardening, I grew planter boxes on the balcony of the apartment I shared with my sister. I was desperate to keep the possums off my newly planted herbs and vegetables and so my local garden centre recommended I try a possum deterrent spray. A non-toxic deterrent full of chillies, garlic and unfamiliar herbs, it was guaranteed to keep the pests at bay. I only used the spray once because that’s all it took. The day after spraying not one single plant remained intact. Evidently, the possums thought I had sprayed my plants with tasty salad dressing for them to enjoy. SALAD ON THE BALCONY DIANA PETTERSEN readersdigest.co.nz    19 Smart Animals