Trigger Warning – this is the final part to ‘The Complexities of Behavioural Euthanasia’ and includes graphic descriptions of euthanasia by bullet. Reader discretion is advised.
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When the knackery truck arrived it was chilling in it’s normality.
It looked just the same as any old dump truck that rumbles to and from construction sites.
And as I stood there greeting the driver, I could feel the physical chills of knowing there were already dead horses in there. I’d been told that we would be the last stop on a busy day and I couldn’t help be consumed by some morbid curiosity…
Were they old? Were they hurt?
Were there childhood ponies lying in the crate only metres from my head as I spoke through the driver’s side window?
“Hello, thanks for coming. Did the people in the office let you know this one was going to be tricky?” I asked, really hoping he wouldn’t be fussed.
“No they did not” he answered immediately, suddenly looking as nervous as I felt.
The friendly and straightforward lady in the office had told me that the horse had to be in a yard for the driver (who was also the shooter) to be able to get easy access.
They also suggested that we leave the property while the process unfolds.
However, as I find is often the way….our situation made it more difficult than that.
The solid cattle yards the brumbies had first been unloaded into all those months ago were quite impractical with their design. The only clear access for trucks was to the loading race and two narrow human gates either side. Which are logistically appropriate for moving more narrow, upright, alive horses onto trucks but were not going to work for winching a lying down, dead horse onboard.
Due to the size of the truck and the enormous clusterfuck of what would happen if it got bogged (decaying horses stuck in the back.. can you IMAGINE!) they had a strict rule that they would not drive into paddocks. Which meant the only alternative was to shoot Cauliflower in the paddock and then for Anthony to use the tractor to pick him up and bring him up to the truck at the top of the driveway.
The whole concept was horrific.. and it also meant we couldn’t actually leave the property.
Well Anth at least. He’s a sensitive soul and I was surprised that he seemed not to be too upset at the gruesome task in front of him..
However, he insisted that I leave – because having me around would make it harder… So feeling a wave of relief and gratitude that’s exactly what I did.
I took one last look at Cauliflower as I was heading out along the road… and aside from feeling like a cold, clammy executioner… I appreciated that he got to leave this earth on a most beautiful day.
It was late Summer and ever since I’d made the decision, I’d stopped trying to work with him. I’d just fed him like a King and left him alone.
Since Tyrone’s castration, I’d moved them so they were side by side but in separate paddocks – something I thought might make them stress but they seemed happier that way.
Tyrone needed his post op meds twice a day, which meant that Cauliflower also got a nice slice of lucerne lobbed over the fence too. And strategically, I always fed him in the same place – because that was gate he would be tractored out through that day.
So as far as Cauli was concerned the last 10 days of his life were wonderful. I stopped bothering him, he enjoyed lazy days in the shade and he was richly rewarded for his efforts with twice daily food drops.
And driving out down the road, knew there were many, many worse ways he could have gone.
When I reached the end of my road, there’s a place where Council workers tend to congregate for a bludge several times a day – so I figured that was as good a place as any to sit in the car and wait for the call.
And less than 10 minutes later I felt an enormous lurch in my guts, as the same white dump truck came tearing up our dirt road.
I felt that weird spacey feeling I get when I try and process death.
It was a sunny, glorious day and there was that beautiful bay stallion, still bleeding and warm…. being carted away in a non-descript white truck.
The headfuck was huge.
When I got home Anth was in the paddock, applying soil to the ground – which was a lovely gesture to try and cover the blood and shield me me from what had gone on.
But of course, I needed to know ALL THE DETAILS… so he kindly obliged.
As soon as I left, Anth had driven the driver down the paddock in the buggy…
Cauli had heard his Uber Eats delivery vehicle approaching – so by the time they arrived he was waiting to receive his next slice of food. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice there were someone new in the passenger seat and started neighing expectantly.
The driver took about 2 seconds to prepare himself, laying the gun on the tray to steady himself…. and while Anth assumed that he would wait until the horse stopped pacing and shaking his head impatiently, he was surprised that it happened much sooner than that.
“BANG”
All done.
Cauliflower dropped instantly, there was no thrashing or staggering then the driver moved with the speed of light – straight through the gate, delivering one more shot point blank to his brain before motioning for Anth to bring in the tractor.
With considerable dexterity and strength, the driver rolled Cauliflower onto the front forks of the tractor and yelled out
“I’ll see you at the truck”
Before scampering back up the laneway to get the winch ready.
Anth lifted the front forks, put the tractor in gear and reversed through the gate for a three point turn…
It wasn’t til he started driving forwards that he realised Cauliflower’s head was hanging off the forks, staring back at him with blood dribbling out of his mouth.
Hectic, huh? 😱
Anyway, soon enough he reached the truck, lowered the forks and placed Cauli on the ground before calling out
“Seeya mate” to the driver and taking off so he didn’t have to see what else was in the truck.
Anth then grabbed a shovel and went back to the paddock to start covering the blood, which was where I found him a few minutes later…
So it was all done….It felt weird, it felt gruesome and it felt a bit chilling but it was also a fast, painless way for him to go 🙏
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Note:
Ever since it happened, I knew I wanted to write about it but I’ve been dreading sharing it because I know I’ll get some serious keyboard curry from both camps…
The brumby advocates will say the awful things I’ve been second guessing all along – like I didn’t do enough or I didn’t have the skills 
That’s ok though… because honestly, I reconciled those arguments for weeks while I agonised… and I know that 100% it was the most responsible thing to do.
Meanwhile the anti-brumby army will smugly press their fingers and say “I told you so.. .that’s why they CAN’T be re-homed”
But here’s the thing… today I’m fluey and gross and probably Coviddy but ventured out to quickly check the troughs.
I saw 👇 Tyrone catching some Zzzs in the sun and I decided to join him on the grass.
Both Tyrone and Cauli, came to me in September 2023 as totally wild, unhandled, mature stallions of approximately 12-15 years old… and if you’ve read this story from Part One, you’ll know that it was pretty terrifying at the start.
For them and for me.
But with medical and psychological qualifications numbering zero, I can assure you there is no greater ‘feel good’ drug in the world than what’s happening right here in this video…
Over the next few weeks, I suspect* the pit of horse corpses found in Wagga will be identified as mature brumby stallions… mainly because there’s hundreds of them but they’re rarely available on rehoming sites 
And while I don’t want to throw fuel on the dumpster fire that is the aerial culling argument, I’d really love you to remember this video next time you see it written that ‘brumbies can’t be rehomed’…
Because as I’ve proven with Cauliflower – We can’t save them all… but I truly believe they still deserve a chance 
This is Tyrone today…The ‘chargey’ aggressive one that had me pretty freaked out a few months ago… and just look at how tight we are now <3