Beautiful Joe [81]
"Dutchman sometimes does, and we have two cures for
him, both equally good. We take up a forefoot and strike his shoe two or three
times with a stone. The operation always interests him greatly, and he usually
starts. If he doesn't go for that, we pass a line round his forelegs, at the
knee joint, then go in front of him and draw on the line. Father won't let the
men use a whip, unless they are driven to it."
"Fleetfoot has had a happy life, hasn't he?" said Miss Laura, looking admiringly
at him "How did he get to like you so much, Harry?"
"I broke him in after a fashion of my own. Father gave him to me, and the first
time I saw him on his feet, I went up carefully and put my hand on him. His
mother was rather shy of me, for we hadn't had her long, and it made him shy
too, so I soon left him. The next time I stroked him; the next time I put my arm
around him. Soon he acted like a big dog. I could lead him about by a strap, and
I made a little halter and a bridle for him. I didn't see why I shouldn't train
him a little while he was young and manageable. I think it is cruel to let colts
run till one has to employ severity in mastering them. Of course, I did not let
him do much work. Colts are like boys a boy shouldn't do a man's work, but he
had exercise every day, and I trained him to draw a light cart behind him. I
used to do all kinds of things to accustom him to unusual sounds. Father talked
a good deal to me about Rarey, the great horse-tamer, and it put ideas into my
head. He said he once saw Rarey come on a stage in Boston with a timid horse
that he was going to accustom to a loud noise. First a bugle was blown, then
some louder instrument, and so on, till there was a whole brass band going.
Rarey reassured the animal, and it was not afraid."
"You like horses better than any other animals, don't you, Harry?" asked Miss
Laura.
"I believe I do, though I am very fond of that dog of yours. I think I know more
about horses than dogs. Have you noticed Scamp very much?"
"Oh, yes; I often watched her. She is such an amusing little creature."
"She's the most interesting one we've got, that is, after Fleetfoot. Father got
her from a man who couldn't manage her, and she came to us with a legion of bad
tricks. Father has taken solid comfort though, in breaking her of them. She is
his pet among our stock. I suppose you know that horses, more than any other
animals, are creatures of habit. If they do a thing once, they will do it again.
When she came to us, she had a trick of biting at a person who gave her oats.
She would do it without fail, so father put a little stick under his arm, and
every time she would bite he would give her a rap over the nose. She soon got
tired of biting, and gave it up. Sometimes now, you'll see her make a snap at
father as if she was going to bite, and then look under his arm to see if the
stick is there. He cured some of her tricks in one way, and some in another. One
bad one she had was to start for the stable the minute one of the traces was
unfastened when we were unharnessing. She pulled father over once, and another
time she ran the shaft of the sulky clean through the barn door. The next time
father brought her in, he got ready for her. He twisted the lines around his
hands, and the minute she began to bolt, he gave a tremendous jerk, that pulled
her back upon her haunches, and shouted, 'Whoa!' It cured her, and she never
started again, till he gave her the word. Often now, you'll see her throw her
head back when she is being unhitched. He only did it once, yet she remembers.
If we'd had the training of Scamp, she'd be a very different animal. It's nearly
all in the bringing up of a colt, whether it will turn out vicious or gentle. If
any one were to strike Fleetfoot, he would not know what it meant. He has been
brought up differently from Scamp.
"She was probably trained by some brutal man who inspired her with distrust of
the human species. She never bites an animal, and seems attached
him, both equally good. We take up a forefoot and strike his shoe two or three
times with a stone. The operation always interests him greatly, and he usually
starts. If he doesn't go for that, we pass a line round his forelegs, at the
knee joint, then go in front of him and draw on the line. Father won't let the
men use a whip, unless they are driven to it."
"Fleetfoot has had a happy life, hasn't he?" said Miss Laura, looking admiringly
at him "How did he get to like you so much, Harry?"
"I broke him in after a fashion of my own. Father gave him to me, and the first
time I saw him on his feet, I went up carefully and put my hand on him. His
mother was rather shy of me, for we hadn't had her long, and it made him shy
too, so I soon left him. The next time I stroked him; the next time I put my arm
around him. Soon he acted like a big dog. I could lead him about by a strap, and
I made a little halter and a bridle for him. I didn't see why I shouldn't train
him a little while he was young and manageable. I think it is cruel to let colts
run till one has to employ severity in mastering them. Of course, I did not let
him do much work. Colts are like boys a boy shouldn't do a man's work, but he
had exercise every day, and I trained him to draw a light cart behind him. I
used to do all kinds of things to accustom him to unusual sounds. Father talked
a good deal to me about Rarey, the great horse-tamer, and it put ideas into my
head. He said he once saw Rarey come on a stage in Boston with a timid horse
that he was going to accustom to a loud noise. First a bugle was blown, then
some louder instrument, and so on, till there was a whole brass band going.
Rarey reassured the animal, and it was not afraid."
"You like horses better than any other animals, don't you, Harry?" asked Miss
Laura.
"I believe I do, though I am very fond of that dog of yours. I think I know more
about horses than dogs. Have you noticed Scamp very much?"
"Oh, yes; I often watched her. She is such an amusing little creature."
"She's the most interesting one we've got, that is, after Fleetfoot. Father got
her from a man who couldn't manage her, and she came to us with a legion of bad
tricks. Father has taken solid comfort though, in breaking her of them. She is
his pet among our stock. I suppose you know that horses, more than any other
animals, are creatures of habit. If they do a thing once, they will do it again.
When she came to us, she had a trick of biting at a person who gave her oats.
She would do it without fail, so father put a little stick under his arm, and
every time she would bite he would give her a rap over the nose. She soon got
tired of biting, and gave it up. Sometimes now, you'll see her make a snap at
father as if she was going to bite, and then look under his arm to see if the
stick is there. He cured some of her tricks in one way, and some in another. One
bad one she had was to start for the stable the minute one of the traces was
unfastened when we were unharnessing. She pulled father over once, and another
time she ran the shaft of the sulky clean through the barn door. The next time
father brought her in, he got ready for her. He twisted the lines around his
hands, and the minute she began to bolt, he gave a tremendous jerk, that pulled
her back upon her haunches, and shouted, 'Whoa!' It cured her, and she never
started again, till he gave her the word. Often now, you'll see her throw her
head back when she is being unhitched. He only did it once, yet she remembers.
If we'd had the training of Scamp, she'd be a very different animal. It's nearly
all in the bringing up of a colt, whether it will turn out vicious or gentle. If
any one were to strike Fleetfoot, he would not know what it meant. He has been
brought up differently from Scamp.
"She was probably trained by some brutal man who inspired her with distrust of
the human species. She never bites an animal, and seems attached