Why ‘Horsin’ Around’?
Don Coldsmith
Monday, January 8, 2007
IN THE COURSE of being around horses for a number of years, we came in contact with a lot of horse people. This gradually changed, as I began to write, but took another turn or two along the way.
In meeting and working with writers of the historical West, we certainly learned a lot about horses and people and vice versa.
My first contact with horses was as a very small boy, on an uncle’s farm. There were very few tractors yet and I can recall a discussion at the noon break during harvest. Could it be, asked one of the neighbors, swapping harvest work — Could a noisy, smelly machine actually replace a good team of horses? The discussion ended with a punch as they returned to work: “What are they gonna do for fertilizer?”
By sheer coincidence, a few years later, I landed in the Army in an animal unit. In that case it was mules, in mountain artillery. I had had no experience with mules, but learned to love them.
Then, years later, with our girls in 4-H, we really got into the horse business. We were raising several foals each year and I was beginning to write for the horse magazines. I was asked by one of the breed organizations to act as an inspector.
What better way to spend a day off my regular job than to get away from the phone, travel at somebody else’s expense and look at good horses? I began to notice some trends. There was a tendency to praise a tall, long-legged build and they’d proudly show me their prize-winning stallion, who had probably sired the colt I was there to inspect.
About that time, somebody would say “It’s time to go get the cows in.”
He’d go down to the other end of the barn, and saddle a smaller, chunky little horse about 14 hands (56 inches) tall. Their “show” horses would be 16 or 17 hands. I’d write about it and got some good “attaboys” from horse people whose opinion I’d respect — cowboys.
When I became a real writer, I found a whole new circle of horsemen and women. It’s easy to see that the history of the American West revolves around the horse. No matter which European nation was involved, in the North and South Americas, horses made the invasion and oppression of the native civilizations possible. The Americas had known no animal that could be ridden, until the horse was introduced. In North America, about the only domestic animal was the dog. Some of the first “Indian” plains cultures described the horse as “a dog as big as an elk, which eats grass — the “elk-dog.”
In writing about the historical West, a novelist MUST understand the horse and its ability to travel. It’s easy now to jump in the car and drive a round trip of a hundred miles or more just to eat at a favorite restaurant. There’s less of that now with the price of gasoline, but maybe we owe ourselves a treat.
Step back a hundred years — That hundred miles with a farm wagon would require nearly a week. With a light buggy, it could be a little faster. Possibly as much as 30 miles a day. That was about the limit for cavalry to travel, except for emergency situations.
I’ve seen some pretty good writers bog down with this problem. In one case, using actual Kansas towns, the fictional characters stay overnight. It was a bit too far to come back that same day, after selling their produce. I looked at the map. In the real world, yes, we could now drive that distance in an hour. But, with a horse and wagon, at 20 miles a day, that would be a week’s round trip.
In another example, a character “borrows” a horse to participate in a race. I don’t think so. Any horse known for its racing ability is the pride and joy of the owner. No one else would be allowed to ride it, nor would anyone ask. Such a horse would rank right up there, its status comparable to the status of the owner’s wife. You don’t ask to borrow such a horse. Horses and mules come in a wide variety of sizes, colors, and job descriptions. We’re out of the horse business now — one old retiree, looking toward the house as I write, wondering when I’ll be out with some hay ...
See you down the road.
Author and columnist Don Coldsmith lives in Emporia.