1222 Spring Plowing

Sunday, April 29, 2007

I went to Spring Plowing today, for the first time in several years. I was so looking forward to it, and I was so disappointed. I had invited some people to go with me, but none could make it ("Spring Plowing? Uh, no, I gotta clean out my closets...").

The last time I went it was so much fun, and so beautiful. There were at least five ox teams, six or more mule teams, and more than ten or twelve draft horse teams. They ranged from a team of six glorious long-maned flash-tailed high-prancing Friesians in glossy brass-mounted harness, driven by a proud young man, to a plodding flop-eared mixed-breed in dull cracked and mended leather, with a sour old farmer.

The old men are the ones to watch, especially if they have a mule; in the competitions, they stomp the fancies into the ground every time. It's wonderful to watch an old animal work. They know exactly what they're doing. One year a farmer started an old mule out on a furrow, then walked away, and the mule plowed a perfect straight furrow all by himself.

Today, I knew it was going to be different. From the road I could see only five trailers.

There was one pair of oxen, just standing around to be petted. Maybe two mule pairs, and maybe four teams of draft horses. No competitions, just demonstrations, I guess. I stayed two hours, ate a hot dog, took a few photos, and then a cold wind came up and I left.

I wonder what happened? Why was it so different? I may have to wait for the county fair for my draft beasty fix.

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Lesson for the day:

"Ox" (plural "oxen") refers to any bovine that's trained for working. It has nothing to do with breed, gender, or breeding capability. Bettcha didn't know that.
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