My First Draft Horse Auction
I knew it. Because of the terrible drought this summer--it's only rained 3 times since June 1--hay prices are way up. Which means draft horse prices are way down. Seems not many people want to spend hundreds of dollars to feed a 2,000 lb. herbivore all winter.
Afterward, and I'll get back to it, I went grocery shopping. For the $331 I spent on groceries, I could have bought TWO Percherons--one nice colt that went for $100, and my choice of colts or fillies that went for about $200.
The auction was held at the fairgrounds. The small bleachers were arranged in a U-shape with the auctioneers stand finishing off the oval. The horses were brought in and paraded around in the area within the stands. Some were halter-led, others were ridden, some were pulling wagons of various sizes (tricky maneuvering in the small space), some were alone, others were in teams, and there was even a mommy horse with her little guy trotting to keep up.
I couldn't help but feel sad. Sure, many--hopefully most or all of them--came from decent homes and were going to decent homes. But at least 1/2 the crowd and 3/4 of the sellers were Amish, and I've heard mixed things about Amish horsemen. While they definitely know how to break (horsespeak for "train") a horse to work or ride, I've heard that they, for the most part, look upon their horses in a very non-romantic, beast-of-burden sort of way.
Of course, that makes sense. The Amish really do need their horses to provide transportation and essential farm labor. The Amish use the draft horse for what they were morphed for. (Except for one "original" breed, the English-bred Suffolk Punch, most draft horses were bred to be war horses. It takes a big horse to hold 400 lbs. of knight and armor. They became plow-pullers after all the fussing and fighting. Except for almost every war that came after, where they were used to haul artillery guns and everything else. In WWI, perhaps hundreds of thousands of draft horses--including many thousands that were shipped over to Europe from the U.S.--were killed. Now back to the Amish....) Because they are seen as assets used to get a job done, it doesn't make financial sense to keep them around once they are past their prime and--I know I'm making gross generalizations--the Amish don't make pets out of their horses and don't seem to have a lot of trouble in selling a good team to the feedlots (or "kill buyers" at auctions) when it comes time to replace them with a fresh team. Not a criticism, but definitely something I couldn't do.
And so I found myself surrounded by more Amish people than I've ever seen in one place, and a whole lot of mid-Missouri cowpeople, and a lot of old guys in overalls and ugly farmer hats, listening to the babbling of the auctioneer. The auctioneer--how do these guys learn to talk like that?--would abruptly stop the drone when the price got too low and entreat the audience to bid higher with pleas like, "Folks, this here horse is BROKE to RIDE and DRIVE and this is just the breaking fee" and "That little scar on her leg don't amount to nuthin' and this is the best little mare we've seen out here yet" and "This here is A GOOD HORSE and this gentleman says that he just had a family reunion and every little girl at the reunion was driving this horse around the field and you just can't ask for a BETTER OR GENTLER BEGINNER'S HORSE than this fella right here." And it worked! The prices almost always went up after such pleas and the horses were sold. With a few exceptions. A couple of them went so unfairly low that the sellers waved their hands and the auctioneer would call out "No deal, folks! That's a no sale."
I didn't know sellers could do that, but I'm glad they can. There weren't enough buyers to begin with, what with the lean, grassless months ahead.
Oh! If only my father-in-law hadn't mowed his pasture all summer as if it were a common LAWN.
So there I sat, riveted on the proceedings, for 2 1/2 hours. Occasionally a horse would come into the ring and I'd say "Yep. There's my horse." Usually the bidding would get away from me pretty quickly. But there was one time that my hand reached for my bidding card. That little $100 Percheron colt. To my eyes, there was nothing wrong with him. At a year old, he was almost as big as smaller full-grown quarterhorses. But the Amish have their own horses, or want a big team, and the recreationalists (like me) don't know how to break a young horse. And so there he was, trotting around gamely, not a thing wrong with him, with a future as a giant ahead of him, while his price dropped to $75. The auctioneer said "Folks, won't someone out there give A HUNERD DOLLARS for this fine little colt." "I will!" the irrational voice inside my head hollered, but before I could get to my card, some Amish guy lifted his hand and gave a little backward nod. All gone.
It was an interesting experience. I'm getting a horse next year.
Afterward, and I'll get back to it, I went grocery shopping. For the $331 I spent on groceries, I could have bought TWO Percherons--one nice colt that went for $100, and my choice of colts or fillies that went for about $200.
The auction was held at the fairgrounds. The small bleachers were arranged in a U-shape with the auctioneers stand finishing off the oval. The horses were brought in and paraded around in the area within the stands. Some were halter-led, others were ridden, some were pulling wagons of various sizes (tricky maneuvering in the small space), some were alone, others were in teams, and there was even a mommy horse with her little guy trotting to keep up.
I couldn't help but feel sad. Sure, many--hopefully most or all of them--came from decent homes and were going to decent homes. But at least 1/2 the crowd and 3/4 of the sellers were Amish, and I've heard mixed things about Amish horsemen. While they definitely know how to break (horsespeak for "train") a horse to work or ride, I've heard that they, for the most part, look upon their horses in a very non-romantic, beast-of-burden sort of way.
Of course, that makes sense. The Amish really do need their horses to provide transportation and essential farm labor. The Amish use the draft horse for what they were morphed for. (Except for one "original" breed, the English-bred Suffolk Punch, most draft horses were bred to be war horses. It takes a big horse to hold 400 lbs. of knight and armor. They became plow-pullers after all the fussing and fighting. Except for almost every war that came after, where they were used to haul artillery guns and everything else. In WWI, perhaps hundreds of thousands of draft horses--including many thousands that were shipped over to Europe from the U.S.--were killed. Now back to the Amish....) Because they are seen as assets used to get a job done, it doesn't make financial sense to keep them around once they are past their prime and--I know I'm making gross generalizations--the Amish don't make pets out of their horses and don't seem to have a lot of trouble in selling a good team to the feedlots (or "kill buyers" at auctions) when it comes time to replace them with a fresh team. Not a criticism, but definitely something I couldn't do.
And so I found myself surrounded by more Amish people than I've ever seen in one place, and a whole lot of mid-Missouri cowpeople, and a lot of old guys in overalls and ugly farmer hats, listening to the babbling of the auctioneer. The auctioneer--how do these guys learn to talk like that?--would abruptly stop the drone when the price got too low and entreat the audience to bid higher with pleas like, "Folks, this here horse is BROKE to RIDE and DRIVE and this is just the breaking fee" and "That little scar on her leg don't amount to nuthin' and this is the best little mare we've seen out here yet" and "This here is A GOOD HORSE and this gentleman says that he just had a family reunion and every little girl at the reunion was driving this horse around the field and you just can't ask for a BETTER OR GENTLER BEGINNER'S HORSE than this fella right here." And it worked! The prices almost always went up after such pleas and the horses were sold. With a few exceptions. A couple of them went so unfairly low that the sellers waved their hands and the auctioneer would call out "No deal, folks! That's a no sale."
I didn't know sellers could do that, but I'm glad they can. There weren't enough buyers to begin with, what with the lean, grassless months ahead.
Oh! If only my father-in-law hadn't mowed his pasture all summer as if it were a common LAWN.
So there I sat, riveted on the proceedings, for 2 1/2 hours. Occasionally a horse would come into the ring and I'd say "Yep. There's my horse." Usually the bidding would get away from me pretty quickly. But there was one time that my hand reached for my bidding card. That little $100 Percheron colt. To my eyes, there was nothing wrong with him. At a year old, he was almost as big as smaller full-grown quarterhorses. But the Amish have their own horses, or want a big team, and the recreationalists (like me) don't know how to break a young horse. And so there he was, trotting around gamely, not a thing wrong with him, with a future as a giant ahead of him, while his price dropped to $75. The auctioneer said "Folks, won't someone out there give A HUNERD DOLLARS for this fine little colt." "I will!" the irrational voice inside my head hollered, but before I could get to my card, some Amish guy lifted his hand and gave a little backward nod. All gone.
It was an interesting experience. I'm getting a horse next year.
posted by lulu | 12:07 PM
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