I've had this photo on my mind for a while, and I wanted to write a story to go with it. It seems to warrant one. It's at the San Antonio Rose Palace in San Antonio, Texas. The way I see it, two things could be going on: the farrier is waiting for a customer who is late (you know the farrier isn't early), or that's not the farrier stretched out in that chair, that's the customer, and she's waiting for the farrier, who unhitched his truck from the trailer to go get some lunch and hasn't been heard from since (and that was a long time ago).
We always see photos of farriers working, bending, pounding, and clinching but rarely do we see them in one of those rare down-time moments. Even more rare is a completely still shot of a typical moment of a typical summer day at a showground that includes a farrier, since the farrier is usually in great demand and resembles a perpetual motion machine.
People don't usually take pictures of the moments when nothing's going on. But that's the essence of a summer day: things just seem to stand still, if you let them. And summer lasts longer, if you do.
This is what you might see when you come around the corner of any barn aisle across the USA today, tomorrow, this weekend and for the next month or so until the start of school and the coming cold weather chases everyone back home, so they can rest up and do it again next year.
That's my story, what's yours?
This quietest of all farrier scenes was captured by Houston-area photographer Louis Vest, who is more at home aboard a ship than on or under a horse, but anything that he points his camera at is better for it. Louis is a ship's pilot in the Houston Ship Channel and travels the world. He has an amazing array of photographs (especially if you like the sea, which I do) on display at his Flickr.com site. Thanks, Louis.
by Fran Jurga | 31 December 2009 | Fran Jurga's Hoof Blog at Hoofcare.com
This is the story that stopped me in my tracks and I wonder what it will mean to you. Please watch these videos but understand that they are only the beginning of this very special end-of-the-year story.
The television crews showed up when the deed was done, and the film footage showed only the wreckage of a burned-out horse barn. You heard only the testimony of onlookers. Yet something about this little story from a small town outside Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania piqued my curiosity. There had to be more to it.
And there is. The fireman who rushed into the burning barn at Greenmoor Commons Equestrian Center in Cecil Township, Pennsylvaniawas not just a local volunteer fireman. He was a farrier. And he was rushing in to save a horse he knew very well.
Paul Williams knew exactly where Pearl's stall was, and though he said that she didn't seem to recognize him, we can only wonder about that. Others had tried to get her out but failed. Water from the fire hoses was filling her stall. She was standing in a foot of water.
"It was her blanket that saved this mare's life," Paul told me. "She was completely soaked. The blanket was saturated." That saturated blanket and the deep pool in the stall meant that the sparks and embers falling from above were doused as they entered the stall. Pearl was safe, for the most part, though. "And the wind direction was in her favor, too, " Paul recalled. "But it was that thick blanket that saved her."
The story doesn't stop there. "I was at the station when the call came in, and I heard a horse was trapped," Paul told me. Paul has been through special large animal rescue training and he is dedicated to educating horse owners and firemen about fire safety and horse rescue, along with a fellow firefighter who is a horse owner, Ed Childers.
And Paul does it all as a volunteer fireman, in addition to his farrier work, and the training of his horses. His fire department has only expertise, not equipment; they use an old bedliner out of a pickup truck as a glide for an injured horse. They have no slings or straps or pulleys. They rely on just their common sense, and (most of all), their horse sense.
Just ten days before Pearl's heroic rescue, Paul had been personally touched by fire. He trains Standardbreds, and had been looking into buying back one of his former trainees, a mare named Dancing Cassidy. She was stabled in southern Ohio at Lebanon Raceway.
On the morning of December 5th, two men and 43 horses died in a barn fire at Lebanon Raceway. One of those who died was Paul's mare, Dancing Cassidy. "She won the night before," Paul said, still proud of her. "I wanted to get her out of there and bring her home but I never got the chance."
You may have noticed in the video that Paul has an accent. "People ask me if I'm from Boston," he laughed. He moved to the USA 15 years ago from Brecon in South Wales, but the musical Welsh accent has stuck.
Paul rode National Hunt races back home in the winter; when he came to America, he set up his farrier business and started training Standardbreds and Thoroughbreds; he lives three miles from The Meadows racetrack. He estimates there are close to 3500 active riding and race horses in his county, and that he's picked a good place to shoe and live the life that suits him.
The horse rescue work is unfunded but Paul said that the day after the fire, an anonymous check for $500 arrived at the firehouse, and he was delighted. If you'd like to help Paul help more horses, I'd recommend that you learn what you can about fire prevention and emergency care of horses. And if you have a few dollars left at the end of year (or anytime), I know a donation would be put to good use if it was sent to the North Strabane Fire Department Large Animal Rescue Unit, 2550 Washington Rd., Canonsburg, PA15317-5224 USA. I'm sure Paul would also travel to give talks on rescue and safety.
The fundraising t-shirt for the North Strabane Large Animal Rescue team.
Weathervanes, that is. They are one of the best ways to make a statement. A silhouette against the sky can be seen from afar and a good blacksmith can create a work of art to go atop a barn's cupola, a vet clinic, or a mobile home. Or a car dealership, clam shack or tipi.
It takes the observer's eye up to the sky and there's something uplifting about that, it more ways than one.
I just wish it wasn't so hard to get a good photo of a weathervane! It seems like there are always power lines or something in the way, or I can't get a good angle from the ground.
This is my new favorite weathervane, captured on film by Dave Angood, who tells me he found it atop an old barn inside some fortress-like gates near Swaffham in Norfolk, England. He allowed me to share it with Hoof Blog readers. I kept staring at it for the longest time this morning.
It reminds me of the beautiful weathervanes made by a farrier and heavy horse expert named Richard Gowing in England. If Richard didn't make it, surely his past work helped inspire it. Our friend the late Edward Martin from Scotland made beautiful weathervanes too.
Weathervanes carry some responsibility, of course. They have to be aligned with the earth. In our little seaside village, my salty old neighbor died and left a provision in his will that money from his estate be used to get steeplejacks to come and re-orient the weathervane on top of the church which, over the years, have drifted out of alignment.
It really bothered him. He saw the vane as a tool to check the wind as he drove toward the harbor each morning rather than the beautiful ornament on the church that the rest of us saw.
It's fixed now.
What--and where--is your favorite weathervane?
Thanks to Dave Angood for his hard work in getting such a good shot of this beautiful weathervane. Dave's trying to find out more about it and I'll add more details if he reports back.
