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Chuck Hinman IJMA No. 162: A Tribute to Our Horses Chuck Hinman. It's Just Me Again No. 162. The Tragic Story for the Week: A Tribute to Our Horses The next earlier Chuck Hinman story, the Happy Story for this week: Twenty froggies went to school Is Chuck Hinman your favorite Sunday with CM columnist, as many tell us? If so, we hope you'll drop him a line by email. Reader comments to CM are appreciated, as are emails directly to Mr. Hinman at: charles.hinman@sbcglobal.net By Chuck Hinman Many of my most heart-throbbing, heart-warming, and yes - even heart rending memories of growing-up on a Nebraska farm center around and involve our work horses. We had work horses in those pre-tractor days to pull our farm machinery. Our horses were not riding horses. We never owned a saddle; the walls of the horse barn held leather collars and harness paraphernalia for Fanny (white) and Major (buff), Dick and Diamond (both black), and Dolly and Peach (both rust colored). Occasionally it was necessary for Dad to "break" a young horse to work with an older horse as a team in pulling farm machinery. As you might suspect, a young, foxy, nearly full grown horse, used to no discipline or control was a "tough cookie" to break in one momentous experience lasting less than one hour. No wonder for a Nebraska farm boy looking for a once in a lifetime experience, getting to ride in the wagon on one of those wild rides, is not soon forgotten. My eyes are still dilated nearly eighty years later! Farm horses once they are broken are so docile. They are so attuned to a farm boy's heart; they think and react so close, it's spooky. I thrill when I remember how much time I spent as a kid just "hanging out" down in the barn with the horses -- my best friends. What did we talk about? We didn't have to talk; I spent hours sitting on their broad -- warm backs, massaging their shoulders, rubbing their ears, brushing their manes, and looking deep in their eyes at close range. And can you imagine never one time being hurt by one of these behemoth creatures. I weighed a whopping one hundred pounds and they, over a ton each. Go figure! I loved it when they playfully nudged me in the back. What buddies! In those days, we had city cousins who delighted in spending time with their country cousins (us) so they could ride our bridle-less horses. Our reunion conversations never fail to include the time Peach walked in the barn door, scraping off her back three barefoot -- screaming (with joy) little boys. I would swear Peach was grinning and enjoying every minute. Or who could forget the endless rides up the outside of the barn and into the hay mow on a giant rope swing pulled tirelessly by Dick and Diamond. The heart-stopping ride culminated when we jumped out safely into a mountain of hay and got in line for the next ride. ask you, where but on a Nebraska farm could you find such wholesome, healthy fun -- horses and boys together. Truly I have been blessed and I know it! And now for an extremely sad note. Simply stated, in about 1933 there was an epidemic of encephalitis (sleeping sickness) that killed our entire stable of work horses almost overnight. A much loved way of life with our precious beloved work horses ends cruelly with a memory of our horses lying on the ground, struggling for their lives. Dr. Walsh, the veterinarian from Wymore, was unable to do anything but grieve with the Hinman family over their shocking loss. I believe it hit Dad the worst as trucks from a rendering plant slowly drove out the driveway with the remains of the lifeblood of our precious farm and way of life. Oh God, hold us all very tightly so we won't feel the hurt! The horses were never replaced and Dad converted slowly to tractor farming. This is the proud but extremely difficult tribute of a farm boy to the farm horses who brought so much joy to his life -- both then and now. I love you guys.... This story was posted on 2010-08-22 07:52:49
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Have comments or corrections for this story? Use our contact form and let us know. More articles from topic Chuck Hinman - Reminiscences:
Chuck Hinman. IJMA No. 016: Twenty froggies went to school Chuck Hinman IJMA No. 092: Borrowing Stuff Chuck Hinman IJMA 078: Fried Chicken Chuck Hinman, IJMA 109: Little Helper Boy Chuck Hinman, IJMA 115: The Time Mom Taught Me To Control My Temper Chuck Hinman, IJMA 079: Advice for Retirement: Kitchen Rules Chuck Hinman, IJMA 033: Cherry Canning Chuck Hinman, IJMA No. 139: What I Miss Most Chuck Hinman, IJMA 008: My First Dance Chuck Hinman, IJMA No. 88: The Grocery Cart Story View even more articles in topic Chuck Hinman - Reminiscences |
 
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