Vanessa Thurner & BBPG Banksia

“Banksy” was assigned to me on Induction Day, and I was eager to meet him. Among the group of Barmah Brumbies, all bay with beautiful white markings, he stood out. At the back, I spotted Banksy, standing alert, ears pricked, eyes fixed and unwavering. He never let his guard down, closely observing every movement around him. While some Brumbies cautiously approached trainers, Banksy remained firmly in the back corner, holding his breath and staying still, as if he were ready to signal his herd to run at any given moment. I knew this horse would be a challenge, but in the most rewarding way.

We loaded Banksy into our stock crate at Brumby Junction on Sunday morning around 8:30 am, beginning the long journey back to Sydney, NSW. The trip took nearly 15 hours, with several stops to stretch our legs and allow Banksy to rest. Throughout the long stretches of freeway, passing trucks, motorcycles, and through busy main roads, the wild Barmah Brumby in the back remained quiet. We were impressed by his composure. At 10 pm, we arrived home in Sydney. Banksy unloaded somewhat clumsily in a panic but went straight to his yard and began munching on hay. Comfort in food is one of his most telling stress-relieving behaviours... (“Same”).

This past week has been slow-going, as I’ve allowed him time to acclimate to his new surroundings and routine. During the first few days, he tried to scale the panels to get away from me if I came within 20 meters of his yard. Knowing he would hurt himself if pushed too soon, I spent each morning with a cup of coffee and a book, letting him get used to me. Gradually, I approached him with hay, ensuring he was comfortable with my presence. Most of my training was based on approach and retreat until we had our first breakthrough: he accepted food from my hand for the first time in his life he has taken food directly from a human. This moment was extraordinary, and I am grateful to embark on this adventure with our beautiful Banksy.

This past fortnight has presented significant mental and physical challenges for both Banksy and myself. The inclement weather, marked by persistent rain that transformed the ground into a mire, added to our difficulties. Each training session felt like a painstaking effort, with progress seeming minimal and setbacks numerous.

Banksy’s threshold for stress appeared markedly lower this week. Our training sessions would commence with steady progress, only to be interrupted by sudden regressions manifesting as blind panic, during which he would no longer allow me to approach him, this could be triggered by so much as a climate shift to me putting on a beanie instead of a hat, he was so hyper-sensitive to any slight change.

To adapt, I alternated between working in the round pen and the yard. The smaller yard facilitated closer interaction with Banksy, yet I noticed that the restricted space seemed to induce dissociation in him. Limited by his inability to flee, Banksy would often panic and bolt upon coming out of his dissociative state.

Throughout the week, we found ourselves in a challenging position. Although I could gently stroke his shoulder, Banksy was not always present or receptive. My goal was for him to become a willing participant, ensuring that I did not overstep his boundaries or force interactions.

A breakthrough came at the end of the week when I was able to touch Banksy’s shoulder, neck, and poll without triggering panic or trembling. Although he remains uneasy about muzzle contact, I successfully placed a halter on him. This marked a significant milestone, enabling me to attach a lead and work on yielding his hindquarters and drawing him towards me using light pressure. He grasped this quickly, thanks to our extensive liberty work in the round pen. Each time I asked him to yield and step towards me, I would back up to release the pressure, reinforcing his foundational learning for leading.

This week, I've grappled with moments of self-doubt, a common hurdle in the journey of horse training. It's crucial for trainers to maintain self-awareness and empathy towards the horse they are working with. When I noticed Banksy struggling, I began to question whether my methods were effective. Allowing myself some grace, I gave Banksy more time to absorb the lessons, and gradually, progress began to show.

Working with a wild horse like Banksy, untouched by human influence, offers a unique and rewarding experience. As their trainer, you have the extraordinary opportunity to be their first guide, teaching them and helping them navigate their mental and physical challenges. This role is both a privilege and a profound responsibility, one that should never be taken for granted.

The past two weeks with Banksy, the spirited brumby, have been nothing short of extraordinary. As we enter Week 4 and 5 of our journey together, I’ve witnessed a remarkable shift in his mentality, where the seeds of trust we planted are finally beginning to bloom.

Every day brings new progress. At the end of Week 4, I decided to give Banksy a few days off. Upon our return, I expected to find him regressed, wary as before. But something was different. I roped him as usual, and to my surprise, he allowed me to touch him with ease. Attaching the lead rope to his halter was seamless, and we began working on leading and responding to pressure.

Feeling encouraged, I moved him to the round pen, a place where he had previously spun and bolted at the slightest attempt of touch. This time, however, he sought my guidance and presence, a significant shift in our dynamic. Intrigued by his newfound willingness, I decided to push our boundaries each day.

We progressed to tie-up practice using a blocker tie ring, allowing him the freedom to pull back if uncomfortable, yet providing enough resistance to encourage moving forward. His understanding of lead rope pressure, thanks to our groundwork, was impressive. He stood tied at the fence with ease, showcasing a comfort level rare in many domesticated horses who often need constant engagement.

With this newfound trust, I began handling him further, brushing him down. Reaching his tail, I spent hours working through a matted dreadlock, uncovering a beautiful, thick, and lush tail beneath the dirt and dead hair.

Week 5 culminated in a milestone, our first walk outside the round pen. We took several laps around the arena paddock before sitting down together, sharing a peaceful moment. As Banksy started to fall asleep beside me, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for this shared experience.

These past weeks with Banksy have been transformative. His progress is a testament to patience, trust, and the beauty of the human-animal bond. I look forward to the many more milestones we will achieve together.

The past few weeks have brought thrilling progress in Banksy's training journey. This once-wild brumby has shown remarkable openness to learning, surprising everyone with his adaptability and calm demeanour. In Week 6, we tackled his first bath, followed by introducing him to his first rug. Banksy's transformation was so remarkable that many mistook him for one of our domesticated horses. He stood tied with quiet confidence while I conducted lessons and worked with client horses, completely undisturbed by the surrounding activity. This calm demeanour allowed him to observe the daily rhythms of the property, gradually becoming familiar with the presence of different people and routines.

We then moved Banksy from the brumby yard to our larger "stallion yard," typically reserved for colts and stallions in training. This new space, with its added room and a stable for comfort, gave Banksy the opportunity to adjust while still having a place to retreat and relax when needed.

In Week 7, we took our training up a notch with desensitization exercises. We introduced Banksy to a variety of stimuli such as tarps, a roller, a saddle blanket, a stockwhip, an umbrella, and trot poles. He never left my side, facing each new challenge with a determined calm. I’m beginning to see a horse that is not only overcoming his natural instincts but is actively choosing to stay and work through his fears. 

The week concluded with Banksy’s first saddling experience. I approached this session with patience, aiming to give him ample time to process everything. I chose a heavy, bulky Western saddle for its noise and weight, knowing that if he could handle this, any other saddle would be easy in comparison. Banksy handled it all flawlessly, completely unfazed by the pressure of both the cinch and rear cinch. This confirmed that our groundwork had been successful, and he was fully prepared for this next step. Following the saddling, I began ponying him off my lead horse, Marley. This allowed me to work above him, yielding his hindquarters and teaching him to move forward Infront of my leg whilst maintaining his composure at both a walk and trot.

This remarkable Barmah Brumby continues to be a profound teacher for everyone on our property, agistors, clients, friends and family members alike. Through Banksy, we’re gaining a deeper appreciation for the resilience and spirit of wild horses, and how different they are from our domesticated companions. His journey serves as a powerful reminder of the small things we often take for granted, making this experience truly special as he imparts valuable lessons to all who meet him.

Over the past fortnight, we've experienced some incredible achievements, surprising revelations, and plenty of trust-building moments. Week 8 was relatively quiet for Banksy and me, as I was busy nursing my sick toddler through another daycare virus. This meant I had little to no time for in-depth training with Banksy. Most days, our interactions were brief—a quick hello, a pat, and a goodbye at feeding time. However, I did manage to pony him around off my lead horse, Marley, a bit more, and we spent some time leading in and out of the arena, over poles, and navigating other obstacles at the start of the week.

The real breakthroughs came the following week. We hit the ground running on Monday with Banksy's dental exam, which was initially challenging. His head-shyness made us unsure if we'd be able to complete it, but thanks to the incredible efforts of my vet, Dr. Marnie Treseder, we managed to sedate Banksy and get the gag on. Once inside his mouth, Marnie found a host of issues—sharp points, years of feed packed between teeth loosening the periodontal ligament, suspected root abscesses, and more. Marnie did an excellent job smoothing out the sharp teeth that were cutting into his gums, and she cleaned out the old, rotting food jammed between them. We knew immediately that Banksy would feel so much better, She also aged Banksy at about 8 or 9 years old. He'll likely need X-rays and possibly a tooth extraction soon, once he's more accustomed to handling. Marnie also assessed the sarcoid on his face, and we devised a plan to remove it in the coming weeks, as it’s becoming increasingly irritated by the halter.

The rest of the week brought even more victories for both of us. Banksy began grazing in-hand, started voluntarily placing his nose into the halter, and is slowly allowing me to touch his mouth and nose without reacting aggressively. He even enjoyed a scratch over his withers, leaning into my hand and beginning to behave like an average horse.

We also took our first tour of the property, walking in-hand down the road and visiting each paddock to meet the resident horses and miniature ponies.

We ended the week by ponying Banksy around the arena with Marley, followed by me stepping up into the saddle and putting weight on Banksy's back. The next day, I repeated the process, this time lying over him bareback. He'll need more time at this stage of his training, but I’m already so proud of what he's accomplished. I'm beginning to see him let down his walls and start bonding with me—it’s an incredibly special feeling.

The past fortnight has been nothing short of a whirlwind, a ride of extreme highs and crushing lows, over and over again. Where do I even begin? Week 10 started with so much hope. Banksy was making incredible progress. I had him self-loading into the float, handled his feet for the first time, even rasped his hooves and sat on him and walked around. These were all such major milestones.

But then, almost overnight, everything changed. It was like a switch flipped. Banksy regressed so severely; I could hardly believe it. His behaviour became erratic and unpredictable, rearing, striking, lunging at me, even trying to bite and kick. It was as if all the trust we'd built had vanished in an instant. I felt so defeated, standing there, unsure of what had triggered this sudden change in him. Every attempt I made to work with him only ended in frustration and fear. I had no choice but to bring him back to his yard and leave him be, my heart heavy as I tried to figure out what had gone so wrong.

After racking my brain, it hit me, this had to be an extreme pain response. Nothing else made sense. When I consulted my vet, she agreed. After clearing the years of feed packed between his teeth, something new must have gotten stuck in his infected gums, causing him excruciating pain. We started a Bute (anti-inflammatory/pain relief) trial that afternoon, and the difference the next morning was astonishing. My relief was immediate, but I knew this was just the beginning. We needed dental X-rays to get a clearer picture of what was happening in his mouth.

The day of the X-rays was tense. My stomach was in knots, knowing that these results would either confirm or deny my deepest fears. As soon as the images came through, my vet confirmed it. Banksy had two severe tooth root abscesses. His gums were infected, and the abscesses were growing into the bone. This poor horse had been living with unbearable pain for years, yet he pushed through, as resilient and stoic as ever, determined to survive despite it all.

The next hurdle was even more daunting. Banksy needed surgery, and it wasn’t going to be simple. Two, maybe three teeth would have to be removed under general anaesthesia at the hospital. The cost? Thousands, money I just didn’t have. As a small business owner, a mother, and already juggling the financial burden of owning multiple horses, I was at my breaking point. My vet suggested humane euthanasia, given how reactive Banksy was, and the risks involved in the surgery. I felt utterly shattered.

Equitana had been a dream of mine, and training a wild brumby had been another. Now, both of those dreams felt like they were slipping away. I was drowning in stress, but I couldn’t give up on Banksy. Not after everything we’d been through. In desperation, I decided to start a GoFundMe, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the incredible equine community that had been following our journey might help.

What happened next was nothing short of a miracle. In less than 24 hours, we raised nearly $7,000. I was overwhelmed, completely humbled by the outpouring of love and support from 107 people who believed in Banksy and our journey. Thanks to them, we now have the funds to cover his surgery, the tooth extractions, sarcoid removal, his hospital stay, and aftercare. It’s still hard to comprehend how this incredible community rallied behind us. They’ve given Banksy a chance to live a pain-free life, a chance that I wasn’t sure he would get.

This challenge has taken everything from me, my time, my energy, my health, both physical and emotional. But in return, it’s given me something far greater. Banksy’s resilience, and the overwhelming kindness of strangers, has restored my faith. Until we secure a surgery date, I’ll continue focusing on his training, helping him grow in confidence with new people. He’s already had a positive bodywork session and his first farrier visit, and next week we’ll take him to the vet clinic to help him get comfortable with the environment.

I don’t know if we’ll make it to Equitana, time is slipping away but I’ll do everything in my power to get Banksy the surgery he desperately needs. For now, he’s on constant pain relief to help him manage, and I’m holding on to hope. This journey has shown me that when the stars align and a community comes together, even the impossible becomes possible. We’re not done fighting yet.

Where do I even begin?

Monday the 16th of September was one of those days that truly revealed the heart and resilience of the Australian Brumby. Once again, our incredible community rallied together to help Banksy, showing their unwavering support for him. We’d been facing so many challenges just trying to find a vet willing to take on his dental surgery. There was understandably a lot of apprehension around his case, and as time was ticking down to Equitana, I was feeling the pressure.

Generous people had donated to help cover the cost of Banksy’s surgery because they wanted to see him pain free, and I was working tirelessly, not just on improving his handling, but also trying to secure a surgery date. Yet, despite all the effort, we weren't making any headway.

In a last-ditch attempt, I reached out to Pete from EquiBreed Oz, my original vet from my days on the Central Coast. He had been following Banksy’s dental saga, and without hesitation, Pete agreed to take the case. His approach, though, would be a standing sedation instead of general anaesthesia, and he warned me there was a good chance the procedure wouldn’t be possible. I loaded Banksy into the float, hope flickering faintly in my heart, but no real expectations.

Banksy had never travelled by float before, but there he was, loading up for a two-hour trip up the coast like a champ. Our first stop was La Bella Vita Photography - Shannon Smith's property for some beautiful photos. In the back of my mind, I knew this might be our last day with him, a possibility that haunted me and made every moment, every photo, feel all the more precious. Shannon has this gift of making you forget your worries, and we found ourselves having fun on her stunning property, Banksy handling everything from spinning windmills to pigs and tractors like he’d seen it all before. At one point, he even almost followed me into Shannon’s glass greenhouse while we admired the breath-taking view. His trust in me, in all the odd things we threw at him, was something I’ll never forget.

But then it was back on the float, and reality hit me hard as we drove to Pete’s clinic. Anxiety started to gnaw at me. I wanted so badly for this to work. Pete was Banksy’s last hope. The biggest hurdle was giving Banksy sedation and getting an IV in his neck. Banksy, in true brumby spirit, was hyper-aware of every touch, sensing that this needle could be a life-or-death situation. I was bracing myself for Pete to call it off, but with calm, quiet determination, Pete never wavered. He gave Banksy confidence when I was losing mine.

There were moments of sheer panic in our wild brumby, times when I thought Banksy might destroy himself in his efforts to avoid the needles. My mind spiralled with fear. But then, to all our surprise, Banksy gave in, and though it wasn’t easy, Pete managed to insert a catheter in his neck for continuous sedation. After taking more X-rays, it was confirmed, three pre-molars had to come out. But that wasn’t the end of our challenges.

Banksy needed a nerve block. And this needle was massive, (bigger than an epidural for mums out there). It had to go from the underside of his jaw, all the way up through his cheek. I thought for sure this would be where everything unravelled. I was trembling, my anxiety through the roof, feeling both so close and yet so far from the finish line. Pete and I talked at length about Banksy’s options, and it became clear that Banksy’s fate rested in Pete’s capable hands.

Pete worked, steady and patient, despite Banksy’s head shakes and resistance. Even heavily sedated, Banksy was still fighting. But Pete stayed calm, silently persistent, until, finally, the nerve block was in. Two hours into the appointment, I allowed myself, for the first time, to believe we might actually pull this off.

And then, the real battle began. For the next three and a half hours, Pete worked tirelessly, meticulously loosening Banksy’s teeth, each one a monumental challenge. Blood, sweat, and tools surrounded us, as the light outside began to fade. We pressed on into the night, every minute filled with a mixture of anxiety and awe as we watched Banksy, this remarkable creature, handle each extraction with quiet strength.

One tooth came out, and it felt like a hard-won victory. We couldn’t help but cheer in celebration. Then came the next, and with each tooth, our hope grew stronger. Banksy was giving us everything he had, rising to the challenge in a way that left even Pete speechless. Finally, the last tooth came free, and we were all amazed, this incredible brumby had done it. What a bloody legend.

At 7:30pm that night in the dark and freezing cold, we loaded Banksy back into the float. The journey home felt surreal. I was physically and emotionally drained, the adrenaline finally wearing off. Tears quietly welled up as the weight of it all hit me, gratitude for every single person who had helped us get to this moment, for the love and support from our community, and for Banksy, who had shown a resilience and courage beyond what I could have ever imagined.

This victory was not just mine, or Pete’s, but the entire community’s, a shared triumph of love for our little wild brumby. It’s something I’ll carry with me forever.

Over the past two weeks, we’ve allowed Banksy time to rest and recover from his surgery, turning him out into the back paddock so he could simply be a horse again. After giving him a solid break, we brought him back to the yards and gently reintroduced him to light work. We were uncertain about how he would respond post-surgery, but we knew there would be some trust to rebuild. The surgery was a major trauma for him, and regaining his trust was key.

When training horses, their reactions generally fall into three categories: fight, flight, or freeze. Banksy is a "freeze" type, which is arguably the most challenging to manage. It’s like a deer in headlights, he completely withdraws and dissociates from his surroundings. What makes this especially dangerous is that horses often explode out of this frozen state, which requires very delicate handling. There’s a fine line between gently coaxing a horse out of freeze and pushing them too hard, risking that explosive reaction.

As a result, our training has been slow and steady, with lots of pauses to let Banksy process, lower his heart rate and release his tension. I can tell when he feels uncertain or lacks confidence, he becomes stuck in place, shutting down completely, especially when faced with new challenges. But there was a breakthrough when I began handling his face again, and finally, he allowed me to touch his mouth. This was monumental because the extreme pain he had been in made him highly defensive about his mouth.

From that moment, progress started to flow. I began working him under saddle, even managing to place a bit in his mouth and start the mouthing process. Every ride saw improvement, and by the third ride, we were walking, trotting, and cantering. We even ventured outside the round yard to tackle obstacles like the wooden bridge.

However, after a few sessions, I realised his sarcoid was becoming irritated by the bit, causing it to bleed. So, we made the decision to go bitless for now, at least until after Equitana when we can address the sarcoid. Banksy has truly amazed me, he’s been incredibly challenging to understand, but his journey shows just how debilitating pain, especially dental pain, can be for a horse. It's a reminder of how important it is to listen when a horse tells you something is wrong.

I’m hopeful that by the next trainer update, I’ll have more exciting progress to share as we continue this journey under saddle.

Courage Over Perfection 

The past fortnight has been an emotionally and physically exhausting. In some areas, we've made significant strides, while in others, we've faced setbacks. I try to see these setbacks as part of the path toward progress, but that doesn't mean the last few weeks haven’t been tough.

Banksy is a complex horse, there's no other way to put it. Just 100 days ago, he was a wild herd stallion, leading his band of mares, making all the decisions. This gives him a dominant personality, and being the oldest brumby in the challenge only adds to his strong-willed nature. Some days, I feel like we're moving forward. We recently went on our first outing to a stunning national park for a long three-hour trail ride. Banksy had several moments of anxiety, resisting my guidance, but we took our time, letting him settle before continuing. By the end, he seemed to have found some calm, so I gave him the next day off.

However, when I brought him back to work, it felt like all our progress had vanished. He planted his feet, locked his shoulders, and started spinning and rearing under saddle. He would eventually relax and walk on, but any slight direction would send him spiralling again. Usually, I can work through these behaviours by allowing him plenty of pause to self-regulate his nervous system again, but that day I knew there was no calming him. I dismounted, lunged him, and put him away, feeling sad and defeated.

Since then, we’ve taken a step back, returning to the long reins. Banksy has also had some bodywork done, and while he's got some tight muscles, the feedback was that he's in great shape for a wild horse. Nothing noteworthy, just the expected tension.

As we prepare for the journey down to Equitana, I won’t lie, my nerves are creeping in. Banksy and I have overcome so many obstacles, but if I’m being honest with myself, do I believe he's ready for Equitana? Absolutely not. But we are going to try, even if that means competing inhand.

We entered this challenge with a disadvantage compared to the other trainers. Between Banksy's health issues, his teeth, the sarcoid, and his extreme behavioural challenges, raising thousands for surgery, waiting for the operation and post op recovery, then trying to train an older ex herd stallion with a metastasised cancerous sarcoid in the corner of his mouth and face that bleeds every time its touched, it became clear early on that we were never going to be serious contenders. It's a reality I came to terms with months ago, and I'm okay with that.

I know there are people cheering us on, hoping to see us step into that main arena, and I can't help but worry we wont meet their expectations, but then I remember something a wise woman once told me: “Not every trainer has a Banksy. No matter how far ahead others might seem, you can’t compare your journeys, everyone is on their own path.”

Those words have stayed with me, grounding me in moments like this. They remind me that I need to let go of expectations and celebrate the journey we’ve had so far. Banksy and I have made incredible progress, and that's what truly matters. No matter what happens at Equitana, our story is already one of triumph.

There isn’t to much progress to report back from the past fortnight. Banksy has been really struggling with the pressure of ridden work and with the current timeline we are on for Equitana I decided not to push him any further for that purpose and as such we are just focusing on groundwork, trick training and having some fun together. 

We will do the challenge inhand as Banksy simply isn’t ready for the ridden component. That being said he seems to be really enjoying his groundwork, we went for a ride at the beach together and he was amazing, but unfortunately that has been our only good ride in weeks and the next day at home he wasn’t coping again. I believe he needs more time so we will just keep ticking away and see what we can achieve in the lead up to Equitana.