Rural Heritage June/July 2025

The Mares — Part One TALES FROM CARTER COUNTY

listing a good pair of work stock. I had been watching Craigslist faithfully for some time when I came across an ad for a pair of Belgian mares, full sisters, having a little age but many good years left, broke the best. They sure looked good in the picture, and I liked the description, and he was asking on $1,200. That was a great price for a broke team, and, from other remarks in the listing, I figured he might could do better if I could get down there to take a look at these horses. Now this is where the trouble sets in. Not having a trailer to haul these horses, I mentioned to a “friend” that I might have found a good team and wondered could he drive down with me to haul them home if I happened to buy them. Of course, he was willing but being busy just then might have to wait a few days before he could make the trip. I agreed that he should just let me know and I'd be ready. Well, after waiting longer than I liked, and just knowing – if those horses were as good as claimed – they'd be gone, I made several trips and more than a few calls to “Ol' friend” to find out when we could go. Then I get a call from this friend asking if I'd come look at his horse, as she had done something unusual. I should mention here that, at the time, he owned an old Belgian mare he had offered me at a low price, but she was old as the hills and likely would not last long in the harness. I had politely declined and told him I appreciated the offer. When I get to “friend’s” house he tells me how he thinks his mare must have foaled and it looks like she had twins and asked if I thought this was possible. You, the reader, may see where this is going, but I was a bit slow on the uptake and pondered this, as this old mare had had a gut on her when I saw her earlier, which I assumed was just from worms and too much poor hay, but I didn't say anything as we headed on to the pasture.

As the thriftless gold of the babul, so is the gold that we spend On a derby Sweep, or our neighbour’s wife, or the horse that we buy from a friend. Excerpt from “Certain Maxims Of Hafiz” by Rudyard Kipling Note: A babul is a type of acacia tree whose leaves turn a brilliant gold color. by Jerry Hicks I have never bet the derby or wasted money on a neighbor’s wife, but I have made the mistake a time or two of buying horses from those I thought a friend. I have made some good trades in my time, and, in certain circles, I have developed a reputation as a man hard to get the upper hand on when it comes to trading. I love to trade. When I was boy, I traded on anything and everything. It didn't matter if it was a worn-out pocketknife, a redbone hound or a one eyed mule; it always had value to someone. The trick was finding that someone and convincing them that it was worth the asking price. I've done pretty well at this, except when the trade involved a friend or a family member. For some reason I let my guard down in these instances, and it's never pretty. The trade I'm about to tell about involves a person with whom I let my guard down in just such an instance. We were in bad need of a team. By team I mean a pair of equine animals, horses or mules, that would work together with the least amount of injury to themselves and the man holding the lines. Our best mare had died suddenly, and we had been struggling along with every sort of cast-off plug that anyone wanted to get rid of at a low price. I finally decided something had to be done and took it upon myself to check out Craigslist to see if someone might be

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