Rawlinna was the name of the town I grew up in. Rawlinna was also located on a cattle station. It wasn’t unusual to have cows roaming around the township.
I remember one day, my cousin Debbie and I went for a walk to a neighbouring station, and what do you know? Out of nowhere, these bloody wild horses come bolting, heading straight for us at a hurried pace. They weren’t stopping anytime soon, and they managed to scare us up into the trees out of reach from their nasty attitude.
Debbie and I were too far away from the fence line to make a run for it, and they were dancing around the bottom of the tree, underneath us, trying to reach us. Once they calmed down a bit, I grabbed a lighter and lit up some sticks, and the horses backed off a little as they didn’t like fire.
When we were able to get our feet on solid ground, we took turns lighting up some sticks and making our way towards the fence using little spot fires to keep the horses at a distance.
We eventually make it back and over the fence into safety. We realised we had been gone ages and we were going to be in huge trouble as it was past curfew. We headed back towards home, almost running.
We head back to the top end of town and out of nowhere these bulls are stomping towards us on the local pathway, we couldn’t think to jump a fence quickly to be safe so we just bolted and ran as fast as we could to the safety of our front yard which had a spring-loaded gate, which slammed shut protecting us.
At least Mum should have heard the bulls chase us home but it was hard for her to believe about the wild horses as well and using fire as a way of escaping but likely she believed us in the end.
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