Susie and Cate, with RNZ's Mark Leishman, Billy the Clydesdale, and Maisie, the Jack Russell. Photo / RNZ, Jo Raymond
By Mark Leishman of RNZ
They used to be a regular sight on New Zealand’s roads and paddocks - the plodding, but magnificent Clydesdales.
The horses with the hobbit hooves helped tame the land in earlier times, ploughing wheatfields, carting lumber and carving out New Zealand’s infrastructure, but these dignified animals are now becoming a rare breed.
While they may have passed their “use-by” date for some, their charm, ability and legacy have inspired others to save the breed from extinction - people like Susie Izard and daughter Cate Smith of Silverstream Clydesdales in Kimbell, South Canterbury.
It all started when Cate worked at historic Erewhon Station, where she discovered these gentle giants and fell for them.
The station has a large Clydesdale stud, and they often still use “Clydies” instead of machines to do the cultivating work and to tow wagons.
Suzie and Cate decided they would learn how to breed, with the one proviso that the horses had to pay for themselves, including vet bills and feed.
“I was the horsey one, not mum or dad, and I had normal horses, which now are the not normal ones,” Cate told RNZ’s Country Life.
The Clydesdale Horse Society of New Zealand notes there are 750 registered Clydesdales in New Zealand, and they are regarded as an “at-risk” breed.
Cate said Clydesdales were the labradors of the horse world, because of their love of food, but she said their personalities made them most endearing.
According to their farrier, you have to keep an eye on Clydesdales, as they’re not sleeping - “they’re plotting”.
To illustrate, Susie told the story of Billy, who spent three years planning a raid on the food barrel.
“He had to wait until there was an open gate,” she said.
“Race up the driveway, round a corner, through the other side of the shed, through a man door, and tipped one of the food bins over and started eating.”
He had thought about it, made a plan and executed that plan over three years, and no doubt savoured every mouthful, she said.
Twenty-one-year-old Billy was quite the character, and Cate described him as her mother’s one true love.
“Sorry, Dad! He’s incredibly cheeky, loves whiskey, loves going into high country huts.
“He’s had about five shepherds lined up along his back, and he’s hilarious.
“He’s not really a horse, he’s a person. He’s brilliant.”
One job that was a constant with six horses was picking up their poo.
“That’s a full-time job in itself,” Cate said.
“Mum grew 150 pumpkins on it, just put them in the poo pile and away we went.”
They were also great to ride, something most people didn’t realise.
“It’s a bit like a lazy boy recliner chair, comfort-wise, and they are beautiful pacers, because they’re very expressive,” Susie said.
“They have beautiful drops and canters, and they can cover the ground too, if you don’t let them be lazy, they can - they can really go. ”
Basil was the first horse they bred, and, at 18 hands, he was huge and had just turned four.
“He is like having a puppy around, such a darling, but very large,” Cate said.
She said she almost needed scaffolding to climb on him.
“I had to bail off him the other day on a ride, and I couldn’t get back on, so I had to walk all the way home, get on, on the big mounting block and then carry on the ride.”
Susie appreciated the way Clydesdales were responsible for “breaking in” land by towing the sledges and wagons that picked up all the stones on the Canterbury Plains, and logging.
Clydesdales would carry children to school and pull the milk carts.
Their demise began between the world wars.
Numbers dropped because of mechanisation and the loss of so many in World War I, towing guns into warzones.
“They mean so much to us,” Susie said.
“We really enjoy working for them, with them, even when it’s difficult.
“You still look at them and the things that we do and the adventures we have and the people we meet.
“I think it’s a lot about the people and the Clydesdale community.
“We love watching what goes on in the paddock.
“The dynamics are brilliant, the game playing the dysfunctional marriages, the whole thing.”
Susie said that at night, they had “parties”.
“We can hear them crashing around in the paddock, galloping and fighting, and carrying on.
“You know, you can see the slashes of footprints down the end of the paddock.
“At the end of the day, I love them to pieces.
“They are so special and I am very proud to have them.”
- RNZ