Working Old Bob

Charlie’s folly proves his worth

By Charlie Calley
August 1984

I DON’T think my wife has ever been as mad at me as she was that day last July when I came home with a 25-year-old plus work horse named Bob I had just bought with several hundred dollars worth of borrowed money. Bob had a sagging back and gaping age holes over his eyes and my wife knew it would take lots of grain to keep him fit because those worn out old teeth would make it tough for him to grab much goodness out of the pasture.

Now a year has passed. Bob is still alive and the loan is paid off at the bank. The other day, even, when my wife saw the kids riding bareback on old Bob and how much fun they were having, she said she’s glad I bought him.

In this hitch, Bob is the near horse and the only one pulling the sled. Dan is hitched to Bob’s harness and walks beside him. Both are controlled with team reins. This is a training mission for Dan as he gets experience being part of a team. Howard Southworth peers over Bob’s rump and Sam Calley, 5, rides the sap tank.

He does chow down about eight pounds of 16% dairy ration every day and expensive horse vitamins are needed to keep his coat shiny, but we figure Bob has been well worth the investment. Our daughter uses him for her 4-H riding lessons, and he does look a little strange (at about 1600 lbs.) in the ring with the riding horses and little ponies, but you couldn’t ask for a gentler horse than Bob. I never thought I’d see the day when he would break into a trot (he hates to waste energy on unnecessary motion) but he’ll trot for our daughter. He loves kids, and has had as many as five little ones on his back at the same time.

Bob will do just about any job, and will work single or double. I often team him up with my frisky five-year old gelding, Dan, and he has taught Dan a lesson or two. Bob knows just how to hold back a load when going down hill. He’ll step slowly and swing his hind end out while taking the load from the tongue. But Dan didn’t know the first thing about it until Bob showed him how. For a couple months, as Bob held back as nice as could be, Dan would get scared and try to run ahead. Bob was patient, though. and Dan eventually caught on.

Now, when the pair head downhill, they both hold back together, and it’s a beautiful sight to see. And when they draw, they draw together. Calm old Bob tends to cool out the rambunctious Dan, while Dan’s superior strength challenges Bob to pull harder.

If you want to see Bob at his best, though, you’ll have to take him to the woods. Howard Southworth, a horselogger from Woodsville, N.H., who owned Bob before me, calls Bob “the professor” because of his skill at figuring out ways of twitching logs to the landing. To see Bob bring down a leaner, you’d swear he knows more about the laws of physics than most high school graduates. First he’ll try one way, then another and another, without ever getting excited. You can go off and do something else if you want and in a little while you see Bob twitch it to the landing.

You don’t need any reins on Bob in the woods, either. He responds to voice commands and can often find a better trail for skidding a log than his master can.

Bob does have one little fault, which is that he’ll pull for all he’s worth if he’s headed towards the barn. But if he’s headed away from the barn; he might need a little persuasion. Usually just swearing at him in a loud voice is enough.

If you’ve got a real delicate job–maybe pulling a plow to turn over a small space within the vegetable garden, or pulling a stoneboat amongst the flowers on the front lawn–Bob is just the horse for the job. He moves so slow and steady and is so easy to control that you can back him into the tightest spot.

You do have to watch out, though, because Bob does have a tendency to be lazy. And he has a way of looking at you and appealing to your sympathy, seeming to say “Hey, take it easy on me boss. Would you work your grandfather this hard?” But then you turn the pung sled and head toward the barn and Bob will pick his head up and start prancing like a race horse. The burden, that seemed so great just a few moments before, lifts from his shoulders and disappears as old Bob dreams of his warm stall and his feed bag. ■