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The Sandy Post
SECTION TWO
Aug. 10, 1978
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FEATURES
HOME AND GARDEN
Horseshoeing :
alive and well
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AREA NEWS
When you hear that horseshoeing is a
dying art, you probably think of the
village blacksmith at his anvil and
forge; of the advent of the horseless
carriage; of today’s auto factories in
Detroit. You probably assume that
horseshoeing is another skill made
obsolete by technology.
But two farriers (which they say is "a
fancy word for ‘horseshoer’ ” ) who
practice the art in the Sandy area have
different ideas.
They are Steve and John Summer,
brothers who grew up around horses in
Oregon and who traveled to Oklahoma
to learn their trade at a fa rrie r’s
college. They say that the demand for
their skill is still high-----and if the art
is dying, it ’s simply because there
aren’t enough practitioners of it.
" I got interested in shoeing horses
when I was a little kid, watching them
shoe my horse,” Steve says. ‘‘I looked
at what was going on and I told myself,
‘Why, shucks, there’s nothing to that. I
could do th at!' ”
His brother interrupts him with a
chuckle. “ Little did he know then,’’
John says. “ But he since found out just
how wrong he was.”
The men each attended Oklahoma
F a rrie r’s College in Sperry, Okla.,
Steve in 1975 and John the following
year. They soon learned what is in
volved in shoeing horses and they
discuss it now with humor.
“ The main things are to know what
you’re doing and to have the physical
conditioning to take it,” John explains.
When asked why conditioning is so
important, he retorts indignantly,
“ How would you like to have 1200
pounds leaning on your back for an
hour?”
FARRIERS ARE TRAINED
Even though he jokingly said that a
fa rrier is simply “ a fancy word for
horseshoer,” John is emphatic in ex
plaining the deferences between the
two. A horseshoer can be anyone who
has watched the process and figured
out how to duplicate it. Such a person
“ may or may not know what he’s
doing,” the brothers explain.
The term fa rrie r signifies a person
who has taken training in correcting
irregularities and who has studied
anatomy so that the attention he gives
the anim al’s foot is suited to each case
The men chose the school in Oklahoma
over a sim ilar course that is offered at
Oregon State University because they
wanted the opportunity to work ex
clusively with live animals.
“ At OSU they don’t have enough live
horses to meet their needs so they often
tra in
th e ir
students
using
slaughterhouse feet,” John explains.
And he drawls, “ That makes a whole lot
of difference.”
At the Oklahoma school, ranchers
from the surrounding area brought
their horses into the school three days a
week. As many as 140 horses a day were
shod. The other two days the students
were taken to outlying ranches where
they shod the horses on-site The course
involved two months of daylight-to-
dark work for the students.
“ Basically, being a farrier involves
shoeing horses and having corrective
skills and the ability to use the gorge to
make shoes,” Steve explains But those
corrective skills are important,” Often
a fa rrie r spends a lot of time correcting
what a horseshoer has done.”
His brother agrees. “ To do it right is
a science. You can screw up a horse in a
m atter of minutes, and it can take
months to correct it. I t ’s a really an art,
between the trim m ing and putting the
shoe on.”
The brothers say that many of their
first tim e customers call because they
want to learn the skill. They hope to
watch the farriers and then save money
in the future by doing the work them
selves.
But John says, “ They usually end up
being our best customers. What takes
us 15 or 20 minutes to do, takes them
two or three hours ” And Steve recalls
his first shoeing job in Oklahoma,
which took him four hours to complete.
“ Now I can shoe a horse in 45 minutes,
or an hour at most.”
HORSES NO PROBLEM
As Steve lifts a horse’s foreleg and
rests the hoof on iron stand, he talks
about the frustrations of his trade. “ I t ’s
like any other job,” he comments. “ The
hardest part, the most irritations, can
come from the public contact. The
horses don’t give us any problem. ”
“ Our horses don’t move a muscle
when we’re shoeing them,” his brother
explains. “ If they do, they get an in
stant thump that quiets them. I t ’d be
nice if everybody had horses trained
that way, but some people expect us to
train ’em as well as shoe ’em.”
In spite of the headaches, the men
plan to stay with their trade. Both
recently started selling real estate “ as
a sideline’ ’ to enable them to purchase
property on which to keep their horses
They say there is plenty of work for
them here — “ Clackamas County has
more horses per capita than any other
county in the state.”
Both men are fathers, and they talk
about their children in terms of their
love for horses. “ I ’m raising a pair of
team ropers and a barrel racer,” John
says, referring to his son and two
daughters.
“ And I ’ve got tw o ----- both future
barrel racers and rodeo queens,” Steve
counters. His daughters, ages three and
six, are “ doing real well on horseback,”
he says. “ And that’s full-sized horses
----- none of that Shetland pony gar
bage.”
But even skilled horse handlers can
have their problems. As the men led
their animals away from the barn to
turn them out to pasture, John yelped
and began to limp. “ Blasted horse,” he
muttered. “ Stepped on my foot Like to
broke my toe.”
A horseshoer’s mouth is a perfect nail holder, as Steve Summer demonstrates.
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Story and photos
by Kaye Barton
Steve Summer leads his horse Leo out of the barm to be shod.
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Farrier John Summer at his anvil