A WORD FOR THE HORSES.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume I, Issue 10, 17 November 1883, Page 3

A WORD FOR THE HORSES.

(COMMVSICATRU.) Every real lover of horses must be sincerely grieved at the results of the last few weeks. Three fine horses have come to an untimely end. First we had the accident to Priokwillow at the Agricultural Society’s Show, which was, in reality, the result of carelessness ; then we witnessed the tragic death of poor Forest King, who “ hung upon the stake until he was lifted off, when he lay down quietly, bleeding profusely,” and subsequently bled to death, not expiring until 8 o’clock in evening, The next day we read that Eriothoneous had died suddenly from the effects of over-riding. One might almost apologise for venturing to repeat these harrowing details, which must make every tender hearted individual shudder. The suffering of poor Priokwillow must have been fearful, protracted as they were during several days. One can hardly bear to dwell upon the fate of Forest King. No doubt their owners are exceedingly grieved at the losses they have sustained, and they have received much sympathy from the public. The horses, too, have received much sympathy, but too late. Many onlookers at the Agricultural Society's Show experienced disgust during the jumping contest. It reminded one of a Spanish bull baiting. The horses, one after another, beaten, tugged, and spurred, were Iqd up to jumps they were quite incapable of taking. It was not their faults, poor animals. Most of them had never been trained to the work. Many of them had been hacked about all day, and came weary to the contest, They could not take the jump. At the water jump a stake was ready for them, which many grazed in their efforts to obedience. One shuddered at the risk they ran, Many of them, even the beautiful winner of the ladies hacks, had their sides scored with blood, by the pitiless spur. At one of the jumps a rail merely was placed, which was mercilessly raised to a height quite beyond the power of most of the animals to attempt. The empty space beneath was a temptation to them to dip under, which they did several times, sometimes carrying away the rail, and receiving severe punishment. Unwarned by the risk run by the horses at the water jump at the Show, a stake was again placed in close proximity, at the Sports, occasioning the cruel death of Forest King. Why was not the animal shot immediately. Surely these repeated occurrences are a disgrace to our humanity 1 Who that owned a well beloved horse, would bear to see him hacked about, as most of the animals were on either occasion.

Surely, to jump, to enter Upon these jumping contests, requires a peculiar and careful training, and it cannot be expected of an ordinary hack, used as a roadster, to accomplish these feats. Why put the poor animals to work of which they are not capable, and for which they have received no training ’ Major Whyte Melville was admitted, a few years ago, to be one of the best riders and truest lovers of horse flesh in the United Kingdom. In his book, 11 Riding Recollections," he makes many useful remarks on the training and handling of horses, which, it would be well for some of our local riders to study. How often do we hear the question "How did you get your fall?" In honesty the man might reply, "Through bad riding." But no, he says, "The brute did not jump high enough, or far enough ; that was all." It is well for the most brilliant reputations, that the noble animal is as generous as he is brave, as silent as he is wise.

Major Melville was of opinion that the perfect sympathy Which ought to exist between a horse and his master, is best attained by personal attendance and companionship from ths first day that a halter is slipped over hie ears. He should look to his master for all his little wants and simple pleasures. His intellect should be cultivated before his physical powers are developed. He should come cantering up at the sound of your voice to have hie nose rubbed, his bead stroked, hie neck patted, He should be convinced that everything yflu do for him is right, and that it is impossible for you, his best friend, to do him harm. After a month or six weeks of petting and kindness, he will come to your call and follow you about like a dog. When thoroughly familiar with your face, your voice, the motions of your limbs, you mav back him with perfeot safety. He gives an instance of the training of hunters practised by an old Dorestshire farmer, whose horses were famous throughout England, for their proficiency as timber jumpers. A colt, under training, was fed In a lofty outhouse, but allowed to run loose In the owner's straw yard. Across the door of the outhouse was placed a stout ashen bar. This was, at first, laid on the ground, then very gradually raised to such a height that it was more easy to jump than to clamber over. At three feet the two-year-old thought no more of the obstacle than a girl of her skipping rope. It was heightened an inch every week, and at the end of six months was a formidable jump, which the animal voluntarily took three times a day. " It’s never put no higher," the old farmer would say: “ I’m an old man now and that’s good enough for me." Mark the last sentence. This famous trainer of horses would never have dreamed of straining and forcing a poor animal at a leap, beyond its powers. Many good trainers and lovers of horse flesh strongly deprecate the use of the spur. It has been said by one of these that “ no man should arm his. heels with spurs unless he is so good a rider as to be sure that they shall never touch his horse." Nine out of ten men who ride would be better and more safely carried if they left their spurs at home. Common sense will do much, kindness more, coercion and force very little. A celebrated Yorkshire sportsman says—- “ Every horse is a hunter if you don’t throw him down with the bridle.” Change your bridle over and over again until you find one that exactly suits your horses mouth, Before you put your foot in the stirrup be sure to examine his bit—not one groom In a hundred knows how to bridle a horse properly. See that your headstall is long enough, so that the pressure may lie on the bars of the horse’s mouth, not crumple up the corners like a gag. Horses, like servants, will never let their master be happy if they are uncomfortable themselves. It would be well for us and for our repu - tation for humanity, if cruelty to animals was only witnessed at our public snorts and exhibitions. But alas I How often do we see a team of unfortunate bullocks driven along our roads, goaded unmercifully, almost dropping beneath a too heavy load, ill-fitting yokes scarring their necks. How often do we see horses overdriven, overworked, forced to carry burden beyond their strength ’ Worse than all, how has it become possible among us to leave a poor beast to linger on in agony after receiving incurable wounds ? Where were the police that they did not see the animals put out of their pain immediately ’ Where is our humanity ’ Where is our chivalry ? Where are all those finer feelings that once created a true affection, a sincere understanding, between a man and his beast ? Is a horse a mere machine to win money for his owner or gratify his foolish ambition. There was once a time when the horse was the pet and i treasure of the family, the honoured and

sympathetic companion of his master, the intelligent friend of the household, the playmate of his master’s children, when an injury to a man's beast made his blood boil with noble rage, when all the chivalry of of his nature leapt forth in defence of hit noble, harmless, and high-spirited steed, and he would rather bear pain himself than see it inflicted on his dumb, but most useful and generous servant and companion. But such feelings, we fear, cannot be even Understood..aipong us. With us, ahorse is a brute, an animal to be hacked, spurred, .everridden, overworked, forced to leaps of which he is incapable and in attempting which, a cruel deaths awaits him. He is to be worked to the last iu his master’s service, and when he has at last received incurable injuries, he is thrown aside to endure a long lingering death of agony, still turning his dying eyes in mute and gentle entreaty upon the merciless lords of creation passing by,