Goose chase

Goose chase

A pale yellow sun emerged over the hills, birdsong echoed in the trees. Sally glanced at the clock for the fourth time as she gobbled down her breakfast cereal. The weather promised a hot, fine day for the show. She had persuaded good old Dad to give her a lift and collect Jane her friend, on the way to the Wensbury show, which was held the other side of Amble village.

Jane and Sally both ten years old, had been friends for three years, and both loved horses and dogs. Sally’s parents owned Oakfield Farm, rising at the crack of dawn to tend to the animals.

‘Are your ready? Shouted Len from the yard. Sally hugged her Mum, grabbed the rucksack and ran out to the waiting Land rover. Father and daughter chatted as they drove down the country lane, and Ben waved from his tractor, as he trundled down the narrow country road.

Jane smiled as the Land rover stopped at the garden gate, she jumped in the passenger seat next to Sally, and thanked Len profusely for the lift. Traffic was building up, several horse boxes formed a traffic jam, as they neared Amble village.

Mrs Owen wielded her broom, sweeping outside her grocery shop, and gazed with interest, as the traffic moved down the narrow street.

The girls alighted from the truck a few yards from the entrance to the show.

‘Can you pick us up at five o’clock Dad? Said Sally grinning at him.

He nodded, pipe gripped between his teeth, and drove off back to the farm. They paid a pound each entrance fee, and gazed at the row of tents in the distance.

Parents holding hands with their excited children, browsed the colourful stalls at the edge of the show ring.

An elegant chestnut horse trotted by, bringing with it the warm aroma of polished leather and hoof oil, to momentarily replace the mixture of candy floss and fried bacon that filtered across the field from the catering tent.

Sally gazed with envy at the horse and rider, she would love to ride the handsome horse. A battered trailer advertising ‘George’s racing geese’, caught Jane’s eye as she pulled the show programme out of her pocket. The geese were performing at ten o’clock in the main ring, Jane grabbed her friend’s arm and they ran over to join the crowd of spectators.

In the collecting ring several sturdy men, with border collie’s tugging eagerly on the their leads, waited patiently for the geese to be unloaded. The commentator’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers ‘racing geese are about to perform’ and the dogs barked in anticipation.

Jane clasped her small camera and took two pictures of the geese, which emerged from the trailer in a flurry of white feathers. George a sturdy man in blue overalls and a battered cap on his unruly brown hair, followed the birds into the ring.

The twenty lean white geese with long legs and bright orange feet, honked loudly, as they waited for the competition to begin.
Several orange cones had been placed around the arena, each dog had to herd the feisty geese around them, and into a pen in the centre of the ring.

The first competitor, a young man with a handsome black and white collie, made his way to the starting line.

Fingers between his teeth, the man whistled commands to his eager dog. The geese trotted in and out of the cones, the dog darting to and fro behind them. One goose escaped from the others, but was swiftly rounded up by the collie to join the others in the pen. Loud applause echoed in the breeze as man and dog left the ring.

A sturdy woman in hacking jacket and corduroy slacks marched into the ring. Her brown collie gazed up at her, tail wagging in anticipation. Bounding after the geese, the dog kept his head down, eyes on the birds.

Brushing back a wisp of hair from her eyes, she leaned on her walking cane. Whistling to her dog, he raced after the birds and missed out two of the cones.

His owner yelled at her dog and he dropped to the ground tongue lolling from his mouth. Ten minutes later they finished the course with ten faults, due to missing out two of the cones. The woman clipped the lead onto her dog’s collar and left the ring looking downhearted.

Sally quenched her thirst from a bottle of orange juice, as Jane took a picture of a handsome black pony as he trotted across the field, his rider smartly dressed in jacket and jodhpurs.

As the geese were let out of the pen, one of the birds made an escape from the gaggle and disappeared under the ring ropes. George chased after the bird, as the crowd laughed at their antics.

Several minutes later he returned, clutching the angry goose under his arm. He skidded on a pile of horse dung and fell flat on his face, to the amusement of the crowd. Jumping to his feet, man and goose bowed elegantly to the crowd, and the bird was returned to the gaggle.

Jane and Sally wiped the tears of laughter from their eyes. A teenage boy with a young collie won the competition, his hand rested on the dog’s head as he received a silver cup from the judge.

Midday found the two girls hot and thirsty, they retired to a quiet spot under a canopy of trees at the side of the field. Munching sandwiches, they studied the programme for the afternoon events.

There was a raffle draw at the end of the show, with first prize of a piglet. The girls giggled and decided to buy a ticket each, and both agreed they had no idea what they would do if they won a piglet.

Feeling better from the tasty snack, they made their way back to the tent to buy raffle tickets.

‘Mine is number seven, that is a lucky number’ said Sally as she tucked her ticket into the pocket of her jeans.

The two friends were as different as chalk and cheese, Sally tall with wavy brown shoulder length hair and blue eyes, and Jane small stocky build with very short blonde hair.
Jane grinned, as they both broke into a run towards the horse boxes parked in the distance.

The Open jumping class was scheduled to start in a few minutes, an elegant chestnut horse, trotted in circles around the collecting ring, rider resplendent in black jacket and cream jodhpurs. Sally and Jane were fairly competent riders, and rode at the Appletree riding school on Saturdays.

Several straw bales were scattered around the main ring, some spectators sat on their own deckchairs. Dogs had to be kept on leads, a woman with two Yorkshire terriers, kept them close to her side as she sipped a mug of tea. There was a large entry for the jumping class, Jane and Sally perched on a straw bale, sharing a bag of popcorn.

A sturdy black cob cantered into the ring. His rider a red faced girl with blonde plaits, urged her horse towards the first fence. Horse and rider took the fences with ease, the cob lifted his hind legs over the jumps with inches to spare, his heavy mane streaming over his shoulders.

They had a clear round and received applause as they left the ring.

A commotion erupted at the ring side, as a beautiful chestnut Arab horse cantered into the ring, the dark haired girl hanging grimly onto the reins.

Jane and Sally watched as he pranced sideways towards the first jump. The crowd gasped as the horse jumped the poles with inches to spare, and put his head down unseating the rider.

Jane dashed under the ropes and managed to grab the horse’s reins, avoiding his flailing hooves.

Sally stood with her mouth open as her friend waited for the rider to get up from the ground. An official ran over and helped up the rider, as she brushed grass from her jodhpurs. With a quick leg up, horse and rider retired from the event, with the chestnut horse sidling out of the ring.

Sally joined Jane on the straw bale, her face red from excitement.

‘That was dangerous, you could have been hurt’ said Sally , gazing at her friend with concern.

Jane shrugged and they watched the remainder of competitors in the jumping class. Several riders had four faults, the competition was won by the girl on the black cob, with the only clear round.

By late afternoon the girl’s rucksacks were crammed with odds and ends. Sally paid a pound for a prancing model palomino horse, wrapped in tissue paper from a charity stall. Jane spent two pounds, on a turquoise bead choker she found in a church bazaar tent.

The raffle was to be drawn shortly, and they both fished tickets from their pockets.
A breeze whipped up straw from the bales, to spiral across the field like mini tornadoes, as officials began to take down the jumps at the end of the show.

An aroma of horse dung and toffee apples wafted in the breeze, as weary stall holders packed up their wares.

The judge a tall man wearing hacking jacket and corduroy trousers, tapped the microphone in the commentator’s box. He began to read out numbers for the raffle, the crowd clutched their tickets in anticipation. An elderly couple won a crate of wine, and a young family collected a delicious hamper crammed with food.
‘Number seven is first prize winner’ announced the commentator. Sally shrieked with joy. ‘Oh that’s mine’ she yelled in Jane’s ear.

Red faced the two girls ran up to the commentator’s caravan to collect their prize. A tiny pink piglet gazed through the vents in the crate, snuffling with excitement.

‘Dad can take the piglet in his Land rover’ exclaimed Sally, as she gave her crumpled ticket to the man.

Meanwhile the rider who retired on the chestnut horse, ran up to the two girls, and pushed a twenty pound note into Jane’s hand.

‘Oh hello, what is that for? Said Jane blushing.
‘Thank you for catching Samba for me’ said the girl, and ran off back to the horse boxes.

Standing in the late afternoon sunshine, the two girls chattered about the show, Sally had won a piglet, Jane was twenty pound in pocket.

A shout made them look up, the Land rover was parked near the field gate, Len with pipe in mouth waved to them. Dashing over the field, the girls jumped up and down excitedly and Sally explained breathlessly that she had won a piglet. Her Dad raised his eyes to the heavens and the three of them walked back together to the commentator’s box.

Sally and Jane insisted on carrying the crate across the field to the Land rover, as the piglet squealed inside.

The crate was stored in the back of the truck between a large tarpaulin and a sack of potatoes. On the way home the two girls related their adventures to Len as he puffed spirals of tobacco from his pipe into the air.

Jane jumped down from the Land rover at the gate to the cottage, her Mum waved a thank you from the kitchen window, as Len and Sally drove home to the farm.

Piglet was aptly christened Perky, and lived in a small pen in the farm yard. Sally’s parents were delighted, the piglet was female, and would produce piglets in a few years.

Later that night stars twinkled in the night sky, an owl hooted in the trees. Sally gazed out of her bedroom window, as a flock of geese flew over the paddock in formation, and she smiled as she recalled the antics of ‘George’s racing geese' at the show.

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