From: jespah@carson.u.washington.edu (Kathleen Hunt)
Subject: Pulling contests
Organization: University of Washington, Seattle
Date: Mon, 5 Oct 1992 21:13:49 GMT

woit@qucis.queensu.ca (Denise Woit) writes:
>They are percheron horses. They were used, as apparently most percherons are
>in Newfoundland, to compete in pulling contests. Some believe these contests
>are cruel, because the horse is hitched to heavier and heavier weights, and
>whipped until they're so exhausted that they can't pull anymore. They win 
>based on weight pulled per pound of horse; thus, it is supposed to be a 
>common practice for people to try to starve weight off a horse before a 
>competition (I know this sounds stupid, but that's what they said.) 
>
>This man thought the contests cruel, so he bought three of the top prize 
>winners himself, so that they would never have to endure these contests again. 
>They became pets. He knew that when he died, the horses would probably 
>eventually end up in these contests again (they are young.) So he wanted them 
>put down when he died. 

I was very interested to see this description of pulling as a cruel sporti,
as literally a fate worse than death.  I've seen a lot of pulling contests
in small county fairs in Maine, and for the most part the horses seemed
to be treated well -- though they did work hard (but I don't think hard
work per se is cruel).  Have any of you seen cruelty at pulling contests,
and is it maybe more common in some areas or at some levels of the sport
than in others?  I'll describe what I saw in Maine:


There were two types of contests.  One was a short drag, where a team
would pull a sled loaded with weights for a short distance, maybe 30 feet.
All the teams would go in succession, and then more weight would be added
and the teams would start another round of pulling.  More and more teams
would be eliminated (unable to pull the weight the distance) until just
one team was left, and that was the winner.  So what a single team would
experience was a short pull, and then they'd stand around or walk around
for 15 minutes while the other teams pulled and more weight was added.
Then they'd have another short pull.  And so on.  Because of the long 
"rest time" in between pulls, the horses never looked exhausted.  When
they were unable to pull the weight, I didn't have the impression it
was because they were exhausted; instead it seemed like they were still
fresh and strong, but the weight was just too much.  Like if I were to
try to push a boulder: no matter how fresh I feel, the boulder just isn't
going to move.  

The other type of contest was a distance pull.  Here the weight stays the
same, and isn't increased.  Each team has a certain amount of time (say
3 minutes) to pull the sled as *far* as they can, back and forth in the
ring.  There was clearly a great amount of strategy involved on the part
of the driver as to how much rest time he gave the horses.  Typically a
driver might have the horses pull for half an arena length, and then
stop and rest for maybe 10 seconds, and then start pulling again.  The
turns at the end of the arena were another area were good drivers showed
their skill, pivoting the whole sled around on a dime, while poorer drivers
swung in wide, wasteful arcs.  This competition obviously involves more
stamina than the short pull, and the horses were definitely working hard,
sweating and breathing hard.  Often the competition shook out with, say,
of 10 teams, maybe 5 would only pull the sled 1 1/2 arena lengths, maybe
3 would pull it 2-3 arena lengths, and then the top couple of teams would
be clearly superior and would practically stroll around the arena for
5-6 lengths, only starting to breathe heavily near the end.

Drivers varied in how they treated their teams.  Most of them used
the whip sparingly, maybe a couple times on a horse that wasn't pulling
with its team-mate.  One driver who used to win a lot never whipped his
horses at all.  A couple drivers did whip their horses too much, to my eye --
but those drivers never won.  It seemed like they were idiots who were
taking out their frustration at not winning on their horses.  Mostly what
the drivers would do was yell a lot, and sometimes they'd add their efforts 
too -- they'd jump forward and push one of the horse's hindquarters with
all their might, trying to help the horse along.  It's pretty funny to
see one of these enormous draft horses surging along with a little wiry
guy pushing him along by the butt.  

Many of the drivers seemed fond of their horses, and several would pat
or stroke the horses during the rest stops in the distance pull.

The horses all seemed very excited about pulling.  They would all trot
into the arena with this big high-stepping trot, with the driver and
his flank men racing along behind holding up the harness.  As the horses
were backed up to attach the, whatcha call it, the big metal piece that
the traces were attached to (sorry, I don't know anything about harnesses)
to the sled, they would just be dancing in place, those huge hooves going
up and down like they were walking on hot coals, all their muscles bunched
up.  The *instant* the horses heard the "clang!" of the metal thing 
dropping onto the cart pin, they would *LUNGE* forward to start pulling.
Sometimes the pin didn't connect, and the horses would launch themselves
practically out of the arena in one jump, dragging all their men 
behind them.  Some horses seemed to be too hyper to be able to coordinate
their efforts, while other teams were very smooth and efficient.  The
teams I saw all looked in good flesh, with massive muscles.  I didn't see
any starved horses.  Maybe that happens only with horses just on the edge
of a weight class.  

A lot of the horses were used for farmwork or logging, outside of the fairs.
Maybe at a more competitive level, higher than these little county
fairs, you would see more abuse.  I suppose it's like any equine sport --
there are some good people in it who are not abusive, and there are
some assholes who are abusive, with the temptation for abuse being
greater the more money is at stake.  I think that killing a horse rather
than let it be a pulling horse is a bit extreme, though.  I visited one
farm that kept champion pulling Belgians, and they were well treated and
seemed calm and happy and fit -- so life as a pulling horse is *not*
necessarily a fate worse than death!

Comments?

Kathleen
jespah@u.washington.edu


-- 
Halfway round the course, up spoke the noble rider:  
 "I fear we must fall back, for she's going like a tiger."
Up spoke the noble horse:  "Ride on, my noble master,
  For we're halfway round the course, and now we'll see who's faster."
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