When the rocking horses vanished from Clyde Mountain, the theories galloped faster than the facts, writes John Longhurst.
TIMELESS TOM took a measured sip and leaned in.
I reckon it’s the Council. My cousin’s neighbour overheard a conversation in the pub the other week. Mind you, it was muffled, but it was between a couple of council workers. There were whispered tones, but he swears he heard the words ‘rocking horses’, ‘Kings Highway’ and ‘Clyde Mountain’ in that order. Anyhow, my cousin’s neighbour relayed these details to my wife’s best friend at the checkout in Woolies last week, so it is as good as an admission.
Murmurs of agreement before Know-All Ron cleared his throat:
“The Council flatly denies removing the rocking horses from the Clyde Mountain, Tom. I reckon they are pretty tuned into public sentiment. The kids love them and it breaks up the boredom on the drive back over the mountain.”
Ron paused for effect:
I reckon it was a well-planned police raid. In fact, I would go even further and say it was a joint NSW Police Force's Counter Terrorism and Special Tactics Command and Australian Defence Force's Special Operations Command units based in NSW operation. I spotted two fully armed officers in regulation black uniforms having coffee in Batemans Bay, poring over a map. On this map, there was a big red kill target about 18 kilometres up the Kings Highway from Batemans Bay.
All eyes on Ron and in unison:
“But why, Ron?”
Ron straightened his shoulders and lowered his voice:
Well... I did a bit of digging around. The cleaner at Special Operations Command is an old mate. He said the term ‘Operation Rocking Horses’ has been widely used in drills over the past month. I rang the Commissioner at Special Operations Command, but he was quite circumspect in his response, and I quote: ‘Operational security is paramount to conducting effective strategic and tactical operations. I cannot confirm or deny ‘Operation Rocking Horse’ exists. I have nothing further to add.’
Shaking of heads and conversations splintered into the likelihood of the rocking horses being held in the Batemans Bay Police Station lock-up. Another theory was the mass kidnapping of the rocking horses and a ransom demand being circulated to parents and carers via the Parents and Citizens Associations of the various primary schools in the Eurobodalla Shire.
There was much nodding of heads as another patron disclosed plans to open a toy store in Batemans Bay, specialising in rocking horses.
After much tut-tutting, the chat fell silent and Mick stepped forward:
Let’s not rule out National Parks and Wildlife Service’s possible involvement. NPWS has been conducting a cull of brumbies in the Snowy Mountains with aerial shooting. Now, it is entirely possible one of the helicopters got a bit lost in recent fogs and took out the rocking horses by mistake. Of course, they would have to land and take away the evidence. It is better for the kids to see no rocking horses as opposed to upturned rocking horses, well... riddled with bullet holes.
Bazza joined the group and sighed at the flat schooner:
“Apologies for my lateness. You blokes all seem to be very serious… no doubt discussing the bloodbath in Gaza, Putin’s continued attacks on Ukraine, or is it the latest Trumponomics?”
Mick sipped his schooner:
“No Bazza, the missing rocking horses on the Clyde Mountain. Now, the kids are all upset, but without doubt, you would have a contrarian view.”
Bazza half-smiled:
“Well, Mick, let's just say if I went to a toy store to buy a rocking horse and found it stocked with native forests, I would be a bit annoyed.”
John Longhurst is a former industrial advocate and political adviser. He currently works as an English and History teacher on the South Coast of NSW.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Australia License
Support independent journalism Subscribe to IA.
