The Horse Healer - Heywood, Australia

…He seems pretty drunk, I say doubtfully, do you think he’ll be OK?
Oh yeah, says Jody, he’s fine. He’s drunk pretty much all the time.
Except when he’s working, Karen corrects her.
Yeah, says Jody, he never drinks before a job.
What does he do? I ask her.
He’s a chiropractor, she replies…

The cattle amble up to the fence. They look great. Very black and beefy. I get out my camera to take some pictures. Anything to pass the time. I’ve been here a while. As I raise my camera, the cattle suddenly get startled and bounce away across the paddock in a jostling mob.

(Top picture: Mick’s lawn mower.)

It’s a hot, windy afternoon. I’m on the roadside north-west of Port Fairy, Australia. There is not much traffic.
I should have filled my water bottle in town. I feel like a sock in a tumble dryer.

A rusty white Ford cruises past. The driver sees me and smiles apologetically, gesturing to indicate he is turning off into the dirt side road.

The cattle have crept back to the fence line. I very slowly raise my camera, and get a shot just before they coyly toss their heads and gallop away again.

(Beef on the hoof.)

A big red ute approaches. There’s a young girl behind the wheel, and a sunburned man with a grizzled grey beard in the passenger seat. They slow to a stop, and the bearded man winds down his window.
We can take you as far as Heywood tonight, mate, if that’s any good to ya.

I throw my bag in the back of the ute, and climb into the back seat with second passenger, another girl, with freckles and red hair. I introduce myself. My companion’s names are Mick, Jody and Karen. Mick has the beard, and Karen the red hair. Jody is stocky and boyish, with a confident grin and short cropped hair. Both girls look around eighteen, or twenty.
Jody is driving.
We’ve just been down the club in Port Fairy, Jody tells me. Mick likes to blow his money on the pokies.
I won twenty bucks! Mick protests, in a slurred voice.
Yeah but you spent about a hundred and fifty on booze, Jody needles him, grinning.
I bought you girls beers didn’t I? Mick retorts.
You’re a gentleman, Mick, says Karen soothingly from the back seat.

We pull up in the yard outside Mick’s dusty weather-board house. I’ve been invited to spend the night, and I’m grateful, because the hot wind is getting steadily stronger.
There is a tiny pony in the yard, and it comes over to greet Mick.
I don’t like mowing, Mick explains.

Mick kicks off his riding boots and sways into the kitchen. The girls and I plonk ourselves on the couch.
The house is full of horse stuff. Photos, posters, saddles, prize pennants, newspaper clippings, bridles and battered felt hats.

Mick hands around cold beers, and drains most of his own before I have even got the cap off mine.
Right, says Mick, I’m gonna make tea.
You think you can manage? Karen asks him.
Course I can! says Mick, swaying back into the kitchen. I promised you girls steak and veg’, and I ain’t no liar, say whatever else you want to about me.
Righto Mick, says Jody, yell if you need a hand.

Mick starts clattering around in the kitchen.
He seems pretty drunk, I say doubtfully, do you think he’ll be OK?
Oh yeah, says Jody, he’s fine. He’s drunk pretty much all the time.
Except when he’s working, Karen corrects her.
Yeah, says Jody, he never drinks before a job.
What does he do? I ask her.
He’s a chiropractor, she replies.
Really? I ask.
For horses, she adds.
A horse chiropractor?
He’s amazing, says Karen, in a hushed voice. All the vets and breeders in southern Victoria swear by him. He can get a lame horse back up and running in two days.
So, you work with him? I ask her.
He lets Jody help him sometimes, Karen replies. I’m just observing for now.
So, you’re like, apprentices..?
Yeah, basically, Jody nods.

Mick emerges from the kitchen, unsteadily carrying plates of food. He weaves across the room and hands a plate to each of us. Steak, mash, peas and carrots. The food is delicious, and the steak is cooked perfectly medium rare.

I want to ask Mick a lot of questions about his work as an equestrian chiropractor, but by the time I have finished chewing my first mouthful of steak, his chin is resting on his chest, and he is snoring noisily, knife and fork still clutched in his fists.

After we finish eating, Jody turns up the volume on the TV, to drown out Mick’s snoring. I watch a Bruce Willis movie and the girls cuddle together. As the final car chases are erupting, Jody gets up.
Come on babe, time for bed, she says to Karen, who takes her hand obediently.
Help yourself to more beers, Jody reminds me, see you in the morning.
Mick lurches upright in his chair.
‘Night girls he mumbles, and falls asleep again.
Jody leads Karen off to the bedroom, and I make myself comfortable on Mick’s couch for the big siege finale of the Willis epic.

When I wake up in the morning, Mick still has his cutlery in his hands. Jody is in the kitchen making coffee.
Wake up boss! she shouts at Mick.
He lurches out of his armchair and pulls his boots on.
How ‘bout a coffee, Jody? he asks.
She puts a cup in his hand.

After breakfast, we pile into the ute and bounce up the track back to the main road.
Jody drops me off at the highway entrance west of town.
Sorry we can’t take you further, she apologises. Mick’s supposed to be in Hamilton in an hour. They got a horse that’s a contender for the Melbourne Cup up there. It’s gone lame, so they asked Mick to go take a look at it.
Give ‘im a couple of coldies to drink while he’s waiting, Mick says.
Karen delves in the esky, and hands me two stubbies.
Better drink ‘em quick, she smiles, they won’t stay cold long in this heat.

The ute growls away down the road.
I crack a beer. Ten minutes pass and only one car goes by. It looks like being another slow wait. At least I’m not thirsty.

(Mick’s place.)