Horses: Curtis, 3/20/2001
About 10 years ago I moved out of
the city to a rural non-farm setting. My new neighbor, Dan, had been waiting
for someone like me to “go out and play”. The play was with a pair of
standardbred horses that had been retired (not due to age) from the
track. Dan wanted to train them to plow. He had them harnessed
up but he needed holders to help the process get started. So my son , David,
and I went “out to play”. We backed the pair up to the plow and
steadied them until Dan got a pin in place to connect the double tree to the plow.
The click of the pin started the process.
The horses lurched forward. The plow wedged into the
ground, and since we’d started a little too fast, Dan jammed the plow
into the ground a little deeper to decrease the speed. That strategy
seemed to work for a moment, or until the hitch pin that had only been
partially installed, popped out. Get the picture? The metal double tree
slapped the horses quarters as if shot from a slingshot. The horses
bolted and David and I yelled almost in unison “let go, don’t get hurt”.
Well, it looked like I was trying to be a hero as I clung to my horses’
halter. I imagined the worst and then the horses suddenly stopped.
Dan and David scolded me for not turning loose. As they were lecturing
me I was almost overwhelmed by my apparent blind bravery. The real
deal was that the tongue of the halter buckle had penetrated the skin web
between my thumb and first finger. So my apparent bravery was out of
A pair dosen't necessarily mean a team.
Bravery is sometimes blind!