Since this first column in June 2022, we have called it All About Tractors. Ths time, for No. 100, it will be All About Horses. The memories of my first years on our dairy farm included no tractors, just horses.

These memories were at about age 5. This would have been 1939, and I remember our horses in the barn. They were called King and Queen, and were both white, completely gentle.

Most of the year the barn door going outside to the fenced yard was open. They could come in and out anytime. In the winter, the door was open only to let them in and out.

They knew when I had food in my hand, either apples or carrots. They would take them from my hand whenever I offered them.

My older brother would boost me onto Queen’s back. All I remember in later years was that I always wanted to get back up there.

When I got older, about 7, I climbed up on the straw stack with carrots. Queen would come over to get them, and I could jump on her back. She would slowly amble around the yard, knowing I was on her back. By that age, I could slide off anytime. No bridle or halter needed.

My next memory was riding on dad’s lap behind the horse-drawn corn planter. It was quiet, and I could hear the check wire tripping the planter every 30 inches.

A very clear memory is still with me, about driving my neighbor’s black team. They were feisty, and I drove them on the hay rack probably when I was 10. They were always ready to run. I still remember trotting them toward a turn in the lane going to the barn. The hay rack only had half a load, the last from that field. I let them trot faster, and as we turned onto the lane, the hay rack went over on its side. I flew off, the harness got tangled and stopped the team. Hay everywhere.

My dad was a peaceful man. He untangled the mess, told me to walk to the house, and blamed the horses, not me! I got off easy, even though it was my fault.

Back to Queen. She was much more subdued, slow to carry me around the yard. My city cousins would come to visit and always wanted a ride. They would give Queen carrots and get on her back with me from the straw stack. We never used bridles. Harnesses were too big a job to put on, and I never did that. Before hitching them to an implement – either planter, disc or hay rack – dad would put on the harness, then march them to the implement, back them up, and attach them to the doubletree and tongue.

To this day, I can remember how quiet it was when I was riding with dad on the horse-drawn implements. The only sound was their hooves touching the ground and the creaking harness leather.

Farmers were equally attached to their draft horses. It was 1953 before tractors outnumbered draft horses on U.S. farms.

The rest of this story

Thirsty years later, I was the IH dealer in Belvidere, Ill. I learned how to fly and met a Vietnam veteran who ranched in Wyoming. For 17 years, I flew to his ranch one weekend every June and helped move his herd to summer pasture……. on horseback!

Ronald Reagan once said, “There is nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of a horse.”

Paul Wallem was raised on an Illinois dairy farm. He spent 13 years with corporate IH in domestic and foreign assignments. He resigned to own and operate two IH dealerships. He is the author of the BREAKUP of IH and SUCCESSES and INDUSTRY FIRSTS of IH. Email your comments to pwallem9@gmail.com.