The mini-horse pull was well underway when I arrived at the Chelsea Community Fair this morning. Teams of two miniature horses took turns pulling thousands of pounds of weight piled on a stone-boat, a sort of runnerless sled. Moving the boat forward ten feet is a “full pull,” just as it is for the teams of draft horses scheduled to compete after the minis finished.
The miniature horses pull with just as much heart as the heavyweights. They are at least as pleased with themselves when they deliver a full pull. One team, in particular, positively strutted off the field of endeavor when they succeeded. To my nonexpert eye, however, there are some important ways the minis differ from the big guys.
One of the differences is temperament. Draft horses, by and large, are calm. Docile. Biddable. The little guys? Less so. Barney, the mini, was pretty clear about he felt about pulling any more in the heat and humidity. As he and his teammate were walked to the boat, he was tossing his head, trying to dislodge his bit, and lagging behind.
“Step up, Barney,” his human said. “Step up, Barney. Barney! Step up, Barney.”
In the end, Barney did step up. And he and his harness mate exploded into action, delivering a full pull of what was, at that point, thirty-one hundred pounds of weight.
Another difference with miniature horses is they slip more easily. A big mini might weigh three hundred pounds, whereas a big draft horse might weigh a ton. Given that the mini has smaller feet as well as less weight holding it to the ground, it’s probably not surprising that there were several slips during the competition. Sometimes, the minis recovered without stopping; sometimes, they didn’t. They always tried. It’s clear that the horses like pulling. Even Barney.
In fact, the minis’ eagerness to pull, along with their more excitable nature, makes it tough to hook the teams to the stone-boat. The minis aren’t the least inclined to stand quietly while they wait for this to happen. They believe it’s the humans’ job to hook them up and to make it snappy.
The miniature horses can get themselves in trouble in an instant. A head toss may lead to one horse’s getting caught up in a teammate’s harness, for example. Once, the trouble was actually scary. For whatever reason, one of the minis reared. So high that it wasn’t clear the horse wouldn’t fall onto its back. Suddenly, there were hands everywhere, helping the horse come back down on its feet. And, thank goodness, that’s what happened.
It didn’t land neatly back in its former position, though. It got itself thoroughly tangled with its harness mate, so much so that four men helped each other set things to rights. Doubletree, off. Lines, out of the hames. Right horse’s neck, off left horse’s back. All horses’ feet, back on the ground. The men worked quickly, applying their own strength and body weight as needed. And, apparently, they intervened well enough and efficiently enough that the horses escaped injury, going on to complete their pull, and showing up for succeeding turns in due course.
On an even more miniature scale, when I left the bright sun of the horse pull and ducked into the relative cool of a building, a peddle pull was underway. This particular pull involved earnest small children taking turns peddling a tricycle to which a wagon with a weight was attached. The weight was entirely appropriate to the children’s size—no child looked as if he or she were straining. And all of the children who succeeded, which is to say, all of the children, looked mighty pleased after their turn. Some of them looked surprised, too, that they’d been able to do it. How lovely.
After the peddle pull, I strolled through the horse barn and spent some time at equestrian events wherein the competitors wore fancy western shirts, and their horses wore western saddles. The point of the events seemed to be the degree to which the young riders could communicate to their mounts what they wanted them to do and get the horses to do it. It was fun to watch, but really hot and sunny.
There wasn’t much action in the other animal barns, mostly somnolent critters trying to make it through a hot August afternoon. Even newly hatched chicks were nodding off. The exhibition barn was packed with baked and canned goods and other foodstuffs for human and beast, scarecrows, handwork, and many categories of art. And, at last, my car was full of air conditioning, for which I was exceedingly grateful.
25 August 2023