WHEN I came into farming, tractors were rapidly taking over from horses, but there were still some heavy horses left and I am so pleased that I had the opportunity of working with them, if only for a few years.

Although I had learned quite a bit about these fine animals - my favourite was a big chestnut mare called Bonnie - I have just come across a new line of thought about work horses.

Over in the arable counties when the work had to be done using horsepower, it was usual for a great bond to be formed between horses and horsemen. As they spent so much time together there was nothing strange about that. For instance, when plough lads were going out at nights on their bikes, if their horses were in the pasture fields adjoining the lanes, the lads would call to them and the horses on recognising their voices would canter across and trot along inside the hedge with the lads. They would then whinny until the lads disappeared in the distance. There was a real bonding there that also testified to the intelligence of these faithful beasts.

A friend has now pointed me to a further example I had certainly never heard of. If you said that “horses knew”, of course they did, they knew all sorts of things, but I had never thought of them as knowing when the Sabbath was. It was explained like this: when horses were stabled, they would be fed and watered and groomed before breakfast and then when the horsemen returned to the stable their charges would generally stand quietly, waiting to be geared (harnessed) up for the day’s work. However, it was said that if the horsemen went to the stables after breakfast on the Sabbath, their horses would all be laid down resting. So there you have it, make of it what you will, but I reckon intelligence comes into it somewhere.

I remember telling you the best horsemen I ever knew was called Jack Jenkinson. He travelled stallions and it was immediately obvious that he had a way with horses. They would do his bidding because they wanted to and only a few people had that kind of rapport with their charges. I remember one of his favourite expressions was “owd un”, it was a term of affection made in just the right tone of voice.

Perhaps I will have jogged a few memories about happenings in the day when heavy horses were supreme. If they are told to me I will be pleased to share them with you all.

Dialect word: Splether, meaning a real mess.

Thought for the day: Would I prefer to be ruled directly or indirectly from Brussels? That’s like asking if I’d rather be run over by a bus or a train.