[Not a Throwback… or is it?]
Some years ago, before the COVIDiocy… there was a fellow who would bring a team of Belgian drafts and a trolley they pulled to $HOOTERVILLE for the big Christmas Parade (which kicked off the holiday decor lighting, etc,.) and he’d stay beyond the parade and give rides on the trolley, weather permitting. A few weeks later he’d show up again for another holiday bit and offer rides on the trolley. The fellow’s name was Jerry (or Gerry… I am no longer sure). He died a few years before the Great COVIDiocy. Sad, but he was spared some serious idiocy, at least.
He appreciated that I was willing to give attention to his girls (all his drafters were mares) and was NOT afraid of the big Belgians. I made it clear that people COULD, indeed, cross the street and pass in front of them… they (the horses) were perfectly happy to STAND rather than PULL. Though they had no issue with pulling. The oldest was May. She had EXPERIENCE. Once, I got to see her use ALL her weight to “educate” a new-to-pulling “kid” that NO, going into the parking lot is NOT wrong… it means we REST NOW. Another time, which I did NOT witness, the kid that was supposed to look after the team wandered off… pre-parade… with cop cars and lights going etc. BUT May KNEW… “Just stand here. Gerry didn’t SAY to go yet. STAND.”
The sharpest memory I have of May is that at the stops to drop folks off and let others on the trolley she would seemingly always be trying to reach back (on the “near” side) and never manage to deal with whatever the issue was. I noticed this. I tried to deal with things. I failed to “get it” at least twice (yes, ox slow…but ox not ignorant fool, either). Maybe more. I gave May, and her pulling partner, plenty of attention, but… that WHATEVER bugged May. And thus it bugged me.
Eventually I worked it out. It wasn’t what was exposed, but what was covered. I scratched UNDER one of the harness straps…. and earned a FRIEND FOR LIFE. So help me, I got a look that was equine for “YOU FIGURED IT OUT. I LIKE YOU!” (Or maybe it was “About damned time! But you got it right…”)
I miss Gerry, and May, and the other big Belgians.
Gerry was impressed enough that he let me “drive” (with him watching, guiding me, and ready to take back over) a few times. Eventually I’d earned enough trust that a couple times (Gerry must must have been frozen to the bones…) that I was allowed to take the team on the circuit while he warmed up with hot cider or such. One of these times I didn’t stop the team at a STOP sign (we never did)… with a cop at the opposite STOP sign. Yes, I once blew through a STOP sign in front of a cop and got away with it. I can’t make this up.
The Elegant Ungulate 