SHOEING
At the blacksmith’s shop the
bay mare Betty is being fitted to new shoes.
Already the fore feet are nicely shod and the blacksmith
now has the near hind foot in hand. The other
occupants of the place are a small donkey and the
bloodhound Laura.
Betty is a sensible horse and enjoys
the shoeing process. When the time comes around
for her regular visit to the forge, she walks off of
her own accord and unattended to the familiar spot.
No halter is necessary to keep her standing; in fact,
she would not tolerate such an indignity. She
takes her place by the window as if perfectly at home.
Blacksmith and horse are old friends
who understand each other well. The man has won
the animal’s confidence by the care he has taken
to fit the shoes comfortably. Though a plain,
rough fellow, he is of a kindly nature and knows his
business thoroughly.
The shop is a quaint little place
such as one finds in English villages. The thick
masonry of the walls shows how old the building is;
the floor is paved with large blocks of stone.
Between the anvil and the forge there is only space
enough for the horse to stand. Yet all the necessary
tools are at hand, and a good blacksmith may shoe a
horse as well here as in the most elaborate city establishment.
At this stage of the process the preparations
are all over. The old shoes were first removed
and the feet pared and filed. New shoes were
chosen as near the right size as possible, and one
by one shaped for each foot. Holding the shoe
in his long tongs, the blacksmith thrusts it into
the fire, while he fans the flames with the bellows.
Thence it is transferred, a glowing red crescent,
to the anvil. Now the workman swings his hammer
upon it with ringing strokes, the sparks fly out in
a shower, and the soft metal is shaped at will.
The shoe may be made a little broader or a little
longer, as the case may be; bent a trifle here or
there, to accommodate the foot to be fitted. The
steel toe calk is welded in, the ends are bent to
form the heels, the holes for nails are punctured,
the shoe taking an occasional plunge into the flames
during these processes.
Now there must be a preliminary trying-on.
The shoe still hot is held to the foot for which it
is intended, and the air is filled with the fumes
of burning hoof. Yet the horse does not flinch,
for the thick hoof is a perfect protection for the
sensitive parts of the foot. If the careful blacksmith
is not quite satisfied with the fit, there must be
more hammering on the anvil, and another trying on.
When the shoe is satisfactory, it is thrust hissing
into a barrel of cold water, and, cooled and hardened,
is ready to be nailed on.
It is at this point in the story that
we come upon Betty. The farrier, after the approved
method of his trade, holds the foot firmly between
his knees, and bends to his task. The nails, long
and flat, are in the tool-box on the floor beside
him. A few firm blows of the hammer drive each
one into place, first on one side, then on the other;
the projecting points are twisted off every time,
and finally, all the rough ends are filed smoothly
on the outside of the hoof. Betty is at last
fully shod and will step complacently home.
Our painter has arranged the four
figures of the picture in a sort of circular composition,
so that we may see each one in a characteristic pose.
The bay mare is, of course, the chief attraction, a
fine high-bred creature, with straight legs, arching
neck, and gentle face marked on the forehead with
a pure white star. Landseer exerted his utmost
skill in reproducing the texture of the glossy hide.
Its beautiful sheen is more striking by contrast with
the shaggy hair of the donkey. It was a clever
thought to place this plebeian little beast beside
the aristocratic, high-spirited horse.
The donkey bends his head in a deprecating
way below Betty’s handsome neck, and the horse
permits the companionship of an inferior with gentle
tolerance. There is something very appealing about
the donkey, a patient little beast of burden, meekly
bearing his saddle. The bloodhound shows no little
curiosity as to the shoeing process, as if it were
something new to her. She sits on her haunches,
thrusting her head forward, the long ears drooping,
the sensitive nose sniffing the strange odors.
Among these dumb companions the blacksmith
feels himself surrounded by friends. He is a
lover of pets, as we see by the birdcage hanging in
the window. His sturdy frame looks equal to the
demands of his trade, which are in fact very laborious.
It is grimy work, and only the roughest clothes can
be worn. A big leather apron with a cut down the
middle is, as it were, his badge of office. Our
farrier does his work with conscientious earnestness,
concentrating all his thought and energy upon each
blow of the hammer. The task completed, he will
take an honest pride in the good piece of work he
has done for Betty.
It is interesting to know that old
Betty’s owner was Mr. Jacob Bell, an intimate
friend and business adviser of Landseer.