[Ag-eq] Horses

[Jody Ianuzzi]

Hello Jewel,

Oh I just love the stories that you send  you and your dad both have a gift. Now we know where you got it from.

JODY 🐺
thunderwalker321 at gmail.com

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."  DOCTOR WHO (Tom Baker)



> On Sep 10, 2015, at 11:29 PM, Jewel via Ag-eq <ag-eq at nfbnet.org> wrote:
> 
> I, recently, found a collection of the articles that my father had had published in the years
> 1969/74 in several newspapers for which he was a freelance correspondent.  I have had them recorded
> so that Jaws can read them.
> I have reproduced one here which tells of the pre-tractor ploughing match when it was still the
> patient heavy horse that provided the power, and as I don't think that the ones Dad knew in the
> first 30 years of the 20th century would differ much
> from the ones that aged American farmers would recall with nostalgia, I hope that you will derive
> some enjoyment from reading it.
> However, I have an ulterior motive, to whit,  there is, what I think must be a typo, and I wondered
> if any of you could supply a correction?
> In this article, which is coming up, Dad writes of a scottish breed of draft horse called the "Baron
> Bold"  I had never heard of it, and neither, I find,  have the know-it-all experts of Wikipedia.
> and now here is the Ploughing Match.
> 
> So farm life bustled along, grain thrashed, sheep shorn, chaff cut. Surely time to rest and
> relax-but no chance, the annual ploughing match was at hand.
> What an eagerly awaited event, compare to today's effort, when tractors and tense competitors turn
> over the fields to a silent, if appreciative audience.
> Three Classes
> The district ploughing match of half a century back was a full day event. All horse teams, generally
> divided into three classes for hopeful juniors, past and present champions, men wise and experienced
> in turning over the soil.
> To most people, a plough was merely a plough. But not to the champion competitor. Each implement was
> an individual to be nursed along with secret settings, and manipulations of nuts and bolts.
> Every aged retired former champion would be in big demand for advice and assistance from young
> fellows with eyes set upon rural glory.
> In the lower classes, competition was just as keen, younger sons or brothers were keyed up to fight
> their way up through the ranks. Results were often on par with the top grade and some first year
> competitor with a fine effort, would find himself overnight promoted to Champion class.
> A word for the magnificent four or six horse teams. Originally, the heavy draft horses held sway,
> but latterly, the showy Baron Bold breed was predominant.
> Baron Bold, an import from Scotland, almost revolutionized the working farm horse in Southland,
> producing a lighter, clean legged animal, a showy type, sporting white face and legs.
> The preparation of the team was all a matter of choice, keenness and hard work.
> Mane and tails were washed (with no detergents available) while coats were groomed, combed and
> brushed repeatedly, hooves were oiled and varnished after a visit to the blacksmith, a skilled
> tradesman who worked long weary hours at his forge, as team after team received his attention.
> All harness had a spectacular look, with special high collars decorated with gay ribbons and
> tinkling bells; certainly each team when assembled and hitched  to their plough was the centre of
> all admiring eyes.
> The ploughman knew his plough and his team and worked both skillfully; the horses in turn knew their
> role and reinsman. What a great sight when a full field of such performers were all in action.
> Apart from actual ploughing, there were always special prizes, keenly sought after.
> The competitor with the largest family, a keen contest over the years between two veterans, first
> prize appropriately being two sacks of flour.
> Other specials, the youngest ploughman, the smartest turnout and best team of mares.
> The pastoral Queen of today was missing the horses were the STARS.
> Ploughing matches had plenty of sidelines, a large tent for women to display their art, jams, 
> pickles, and butter, not forgetting, embroidery, knitting and sewing.
> Children were not excluded, but generally
> were too busy consuming fizzy drinks and romping in lolly scrambles.
> Guile, Cunning
> On a nearby field, the annual Rugby match would be under way, married men v single, a contest of
> guile and cunning against youth and vigour, with many stops to attend the wounded and winded.
> Tossing the sheaf was a matter of some skill, not necessarily strength. Each year would produce the
> same, good keen men, as they tossed. Nearby, some big ponderous men grunted; these were Cumberland
> wrestlers, who heaved and puffed with not much action but they still had their admirers amidst the
> thud of trampling horses, tinkling bells and noisy footballers.
> What a day for children, usually dressed in their best, but not for long; boys were soon bedraggled,
> covered in dust and debris. They were rounded up for a huge lunch, then bursting at the seams were
> off again.
> One thing was certain nobody ever lost a child at a ploughing match!
> 
>          Jewel
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
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