The Organic Experimental Engine (oxen)
(Page 2 of 9)
May/June 1973
By John R. Scarlett
Although we gained little further information at the library, we didn't lose interest in our project . . . and by midsummer, we'd discovered that oxen are by no means entirely a thing of the past.
RELATED CONTENT
TWELVE DAYS IN VERMONT
Our curiosity about the draft animals went with us on several summer trips to Vermont and New Hampshire, and wherever we traveled we asked whether some old man or woman in the neighborhood could tell us how to train and drive a team. Our search was finally rewarded at a farm in Tunbridge, Vermont, where we first saw (and heard) draft cattle in action.
The animals' owners told us that—though a few oxen are still being used for farming and logging—their most common employment is for sport, in the stoneboat pulling contests at county fairs. By good fortune, such an event was scheduled the very next day at Norwich, Vermont and our new friends were among the competitors.
At the Norwich Fair—where we saw ox-pulling and had a chance to talk with drivers, see a variety of breeds and driving styles and generally soak up the whole new experience—we became convinced that we wanted a team of our own. Since we needed the animals by that fall to haul our firewood, we knew we'd have to buy a "handy" span, one not just trained to pull a stoneboat but accustomed to the more complex demands of farm work.
We quickly discovered that such an educated team was not common and would cost us $800 to $1,200 (depending to some degree on the current price of beef), plus $50.00 to $100 for a yoke and more for transportation. If we'd known how and had two years to spare, we could have raised and broken a pair of calves ourselves. But we had neither the time nor the know-how, and we did have the money . . . just enough, we reckoned.
As novices, of course, we were in a perfect position to be ripped off in a big way, and could have lost most of our savings in a bad deal. What saved us was the enthusiasm, kindness and down-home honesty of the ox drivers we met. Though they'd gathered to compete in ox-pulling and showing, they looked at the fair even more as an occasion to share their love of the animals they drove . . . with one another, and even with a couple of greenhorns like us.
The family we'd met the day before—who had three teams entered in the Norwich events—were especially helpful. They agreed to try to find a good span for us, and we arranged to return to their farm in September at the time of the four-day Tunbridge World's Fair . . . at which time, they told us, we could tent on their place and work with their teams if we'd help them cut and haul firewood. We gladly agreed, and that nine-day stay with our Vermont friends was all the practical training we had before we set out on our own.
And set out we did, because—as a consequence of this second Vermont visit—we were able to buy a team and some vital equipment at the Tunbridge Fair. So it happens that today Liz, two-year-old Rob and I, hunkered down on our homestead in upstate New Yorkmany miles from any other working ox team that we know of-are successfully and easily (though awkwardly and a little nervously at times) driving and caring for two beautiful red oxen named John and Paul.
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