# Horses and roads/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX.
When speaking of the importance of leaving the sole free to receive pressure, we by no means mean to imply that it must be under continual pressure. Its arched form indicates that on hard level ground it was not intended to come down. Such ground is often slippery, as in the case of smooth rocks, and the contact of only the frog, heels, and crust is more fitted to prevent slipping than if the hoof were flat. Hence in case of a slip under peculiar circumstances—such as very steep or wet ground, for instance—the concave shape of the bottom of the unshod foot would serve to allow the periphery to catch hold of irregularities which would arrest the slipping. On either softer or more irregular ground the sole is quite capable of taking its proper share of weight, as those who have seen ​unshod horses galloping over the softest or roughest kind of ground in turn (say Dartmoor, for instance) may bear witness to. Such horses only roughly pick their way when at full gallop: they lift their feet high, and let them come down where chance may, in detail, direct them. The weight of the horse is only partially transmitted to the arched sole by the elasticity of other parts of the foot.
The hoof may be described as somewhat resembling a double slanting truncated conic section, with the biggest end on the ground, and semi-cloven behind. To superficial observers this may not be suggestive of great resisting powers to the superimposed weight of the horse; but, if we look inside the hoof, we find that things are all right—how could Nature possibly go wrong? The inside of the crust, instead of being smooth like the outside, is furnished with several hundreds of thin, flexible, horny plates, called laminae, set edgewise, very like the gills of a mushroom; whilst the coffin bone is covered with an exactly corresponding number of softer plates, which fit with the utmost nicety between, and adhere most closely to, the first-mentioned plates. This beautiful arrangement gives an adhesive surface on both the crust and the coffin bone, many thousands of times greater than the hoof measures in girth; and thus the weight of the horse is attached to, and suspended by, the crust, and only partially coming down on the frog and sole at times, and in irregular amount and force, and always finding delicate compound arrangements ​of elasticity, expansion, and contraction to obviate all danger from concussion.
As regards wear and tear there is nothing to fear; for, as ‘Kangaroo’ wrote in the ‘Field,’ ‘it is impossible for a horse to become footsore in the frog, sole, or heel of his foot, as a result of travelling barefoot.’ The horn of which the frog is formed differs from the horn of the sole in nature; and both of them are unlike the horn of the wall, of which latter the description by Mr. Douglas has already been given. The same authority says of the frog: ‘In structure the horn of the frog may be compared to horsehair in the compressed state as used for stuffing sofas; and, if we can imagine this hair to be mixed with a fatty adhesive substance, we shall form a fair idea what the tough elastic frog resembles when under microscopic inspection.’ ‘The frog is only a continuation of the coronet; and, from its wedge-like form, and nearly total insensibility to feeling, proves that it is meant to take a bearing upon the ground, where it is useful to the animal either in action or repose; in the former it acts as a buffer, preventing concussion, whilst its hold upon the smoothest surfaces prevents slipping.’ Of the sole he says: ‘Over its surface there is no glazy-gluey layer to preserve its moisture, as in the crust; while its fibres, stretched like strings, layer over layer, are as unlike the woolly, oily, substance of the frog as the horn of the crust differs from the bones which it covers. In one respect the sole resembles the frog; which is, that the outer layer of fibres in ​each becomes dead and falls off in flakes, the growth downwards of the new horn pushing off the old in turn.’ This being so, all paring of either sole or frog is not only uncalled for but highly detrimental. To such of us as have been in the habit of thinking of the horse’s hoof as merely a homogeneous block of horn, without any particular architectural design, the lucid descriptions given by Mr. Douglas must impart a new light. Some amongst us cannot fail to ask themselves whether all these perfectly designed and delicate, although strong, arrangements were so ordered merely to have them thrown out of use by scorching, stiffening, and covering them with rigid iron, and lacerating and compressing with nails the delicate tubes through which flows the fluid on which the crust depends for its health and vitality?
Literary shoeing smiths do not frequently appear amongst us; but America, as usual, has been able to ‘supply this long-felt want’ in the person of Mr. Russell. He writes, in 1879, a book of 140 pages, containing fifty illustrations, twenty-seven of which are of shoes of different pattern and form. Mr. Gr. W. Bowler, V.S., writes the introduction, and has ‘carefully corrected the anatomical parts of the work.’ A man that has invented more than a score of shoes of different principles and shape must have been of an inquiring turn of mind; but the fact that so many different kinds were thought to be necessary seems to argue against the necessity of any of them. A great deal ought to be expected ​from a ‘scoop-toed rolling-motion shoe,’ if there be anything in a name—which is to be doubted in this case at least. Another, the ‘centennial’ shoe, is described as follows: ‘This shoe is made of steel, and is well concaved on the ground surface. The bars are made so as to fit upon the bars of the foot, and bear weight as the unshod hoof does in a state of nature, preventing bruises in the heels and quarter cracks. I have tested this shoe on horses that were quite sore and lame, the shoe being made of cast steel, the bars being sprung down from the heel to their points on the ground surface about one half-inch; this will soften and mellow the jar. The shoe, being well tempered, will allow the bars to spring with the horse’s weight, and will be found one of the best devices possible to soften and relieve the effects of concussion when the horse is tender of foot, as well as to quicken the action in trotting, leaving the frog free and unimpeded to perform its important functions of cushioning the foot and shielding the sensitive parts from injury.’
It is, perhaps, scarcely fair to condemn by theory a shoe which one has not experimented upon; but if a small stone were to get jammed between the spring and the horse’s heel, would not the horse be as effectually ‘beaned’ as if an English coper had done it for him? What a contrast we find between the result of forty years’ research (as stated in the preface) of a farrier, and that arrived at by another American, Mr. Bowditch, a practical farmer, who found ‘four inches of iron curled round the toe’ to ​be better than anything else, ‘even in the case of horses that had had their feet abused for a series of years.’ This book, however, coming, as it does, from a farrier of forty years’ experience, contains noteworthy remarks. Great stress is laid on the importance of paring the crust only, leaving the frog and sole to exfoliate of their own accord, and also taking the greatest care to pare down the crust perfectly level on all sides, so that the foot may stand quite upright. ‘If we wish to examine a perfect foot, such as Nature made it, it is generally necessary to find one that has never been shod; for the common mode of shoeing is so frequently destructive, that we seldom meet with a horse whose feet have not lost, in some degree, their original form, and this deviation from their natural shape is generally proportioned to the length of time they have worn shoes. From this circumstance, writers on farriery have been led to form various opinions respecting the most desirable form for a horse’s foot; but had an ever provident Nature been consulted, this variety of opinion, it seems to me, would never have existed.’
It is strange that Mr. Russell, after expressing himself thus, should have come to the conclusion that more than a score of different patterns and principles were necessary to help Nature. The fact is that these various kinds of shoes are only so many orthopedic instruments which he considers useful for ‘cripples.’ So all his inventive powers have been thrown away when ‘four inches of iron curled round the toe’ are found to answer better ​than all his far-fetched inventions. On the other hand, it is refreshing to find him speak thus: ‘The practice of hot fitting and clipping’—that is, raising a clip on the toe, and sometimes also on both quarters—‘is very destructive. Burning the sole will, in time, partially destroy the sensitive laminae, and impair the membranous lining underneath the coffin bone, as well as close the pores of the horn, causing the roof to become hard, dry and brittle. It also impedes, as a necessary consequence, the healthy growth of the hoof.’
‘The advocates of hot fitting present many specious reasons for the furtherance of this practice. It is alleged that shoes cannot be fitted so rapidly nor as closely by any means other than that of hot fitting; and this is generally true, for, by this means, the hoof is burned to correspond with the inequalities which occur on the surface of the shoe, until the latter is thoroughly imbedded in the horn. On the other hand, however, this fusing of the horn is in opposition to its right growth and operation, and is the prolific source of many evils and abuses.’
Although a veterinary surgeon certifies to the correctness of the anatomical descriptions contained in the book, we may premise that he does not guarantee everything else; or we should scarcely meet with such a passage as this: ‘The shoe should ordinarily be perfectly flat on the ground-wearing part, but is to be worn concave on the surface next the foot, else it will be apt to produce lameness by pressing on the sole. I have shown that, in a sound foot, the ​sole is always concave; and it might be supposed that it cannot possibly receive any pressure from a flat shoe. But when a horse is exerting himself, either in galloping or drawing burdens, the sudden action of the animal’s weight causes the laminae to gradually lengthen, and suffer the coffin bone to press on the sole; its concavity and elasticity allow it to descend and expand, and that gradual yielding must materially endanger the sole by a violent contact with the shoe, were it made otherwise than hollow.’
This theory is untenable. The sole cannot in a sound foot descend round the edge. As to the shoe which he recommends for ordinary use, it was certainly recommended a century ago by Osmer; but Professor Coleman was the first to turn the shoe over, and leave the flat surface against the hoof, and the bevelled, or seated, surface on the ground. And this is the prevailing pattern since then advocated. It is, perhaps, the best of the two; but neither of them has the claims of the Charlier tip to simplicity, and a near approach to a natural foot. The Charlier shoe, the same as the tip, is only a quarter of an inch in thickness and half an inch in width for a horse of average size, and the full-sized shoe weighs only a third of what an ordinary plain shoe, without calks, will weigh; and this makes eleven or twelve ounces difference on each foot, if the whole shoe be worn, and more in the case of tips. Youatt tells us that ‘an ounce or two in the weight of the shoe will sadly tell before the end of a hard day’s ​work.’ One precaution to be taken when applying the shoe is to pare lightly the bottom of the crust first of all. A whitish line, which marks the inside of the crust, will then be found; and this white line must be preserved intact, with just a little bit to spare, when cutting the groove. Mr. Stevens, M.K.C.V.S., Park Lane, London, sends, for sixpence, a pamphlet, giving instructions; he also keeps ready-made shoes, &c., concerning all which the pamphlet furnishes information. A correspondent who shoes all his horses à la Charlier, a stranger to myself, writes: ‘I live in the country. I have an ardent disciple in the farrier, who shoes beautifully. I really don’t think the shoes he puts on my horses weigh more than one quarter those made by his neighbours do. I am glad to say, too, that it has been a fine thing for him in business; many of the neighbouring gentry employ him to shoe on this method. A horse can back a load on any ordinary road without calking, if you let him stand on his feet.’
Owners, be they farmers or otherwise, who may have read these chapters, and may be induced to give the Charlier shoe a trial—beginning, as is best, with a shoe which, called three-quartered, is short at the heels, not reaching or touching the bars, and, at the next shoeing, having only a half shoe, or rather tip, say six inches round—would be likely to venture on the four inches, which length has been found already to ‘fill the bill.’ Having arrived successfully at this point ​(which all would reach, if they tried), they might be led to reflect, and ask themselves whether this was the full extent of improvement they could arrive at. ‘Impecuniosus’ stopped short here; but the American farmers pushed the thing still further by doing away with even this small protection on the hind feet. At this point they also made a stand, apparently overawed by their presumption or stupefied by their success. They were unaware, or unable fully to appreciate the fact that Nature was smiling benignly upon their efforts in the right direction, even when they were brought face to face with the rewards she was so plainly giving them at each advancing step towards perfection.
It is astounding that the last scales should not have dropped from the eyes of such investigating and liberally-disposed men, and have thus left disclosed to their perfect vision the fact that Nature had not left the toe out of account when she designed the wonderfully perfect and beautiful foot of the horse, defective as it is popularly, but erringly, supposed to be. The toe is even provided in an extra manner with the means of standing all wear and tear; for, if the tips be removed and the horse worked barefoot over the roughest kind of roads, as he is in many countries, the toe will outgrow all calls upon it, which is what no other part of the hoof will ever do, although they all resist wear. The toe alone will require to be restricted in its growth; for it will grow too long, even under hard work on hard roads, and must be kept rasped back ​occasionally to a suitable length and shape. In Ireland donkeys are worked unshod in draught and over macadamised roads, even over loose broken stone; and Mayhew gives an illustration showing a donkey’s overgrown toe turned upward like a half moon from the want of care in keeping it rasped back.
Only last December a correspondent in a contemporary referred to this same illustration and to these donkeys. He says that lately, when he was in Ireland, he saw the donkeys being worked unshod; and not only had the hoof not been worn away, but, on the contrary, it had outgrown the wear and tear of work, the toe having become turned up, and requiring shortening exactly (as he says) as shown in Mayhew’s ilustration. He says: ‘Certainly the roads in that part of Ireland are calculated to cause the greatest amount of wear and tear.’ In other countries the toe is kept trimmed, and this is necessary for the comfort of the animals. Yet the laziness of the Irish owners in leaving the superfluous horn affords a convincing proof that the toe will outgrow all demands upon it, even on roads that ‘are certainly calculated to cause the greatest amount of wear and tear.’
What further proof can be needed that Nature has fully provided for every part of the hoof? A protection of iron, even in its most mitigated form, is only a mistake. Some may say that this is all very well for the donkey, but that it is quite another affair with the horse; and this remark was ​actually made to the writer by an Irish clergyman. Such an argument can only be fished up from the depths of bigotry. Those who urge it would also deny that donkeys could go unshod, but for the fact that they see them doing so, and successfully. Now, in England, donkeys are shod; and why? Only as an affair of routine. One of the chief arguments—in fact, the sheet-anchor—of those who will not allow the equine species to go barefooted is ‘our moist climate and hard roads.’ Ireland is rather ahead of us in having a moister climate, and the roads, as described, are in no way better than ours; so the point of departure of nearly all sticklers for the necessity of shoes will bear no more investigation than the puerile and futile chain of reasoning with which they follow it up.
To such as are open to conviction, it will be evident, therefore, that our donkeys in England would gain by leaving off shoes, and that their owners would at the same time be richer. Why should this not hold good also in regard to the horse? The statement that he is less fitted for it by nature will stand neither argument nor practical experiment, should the latter be made with intelligence and a desire to succeed.
Can any one really believe that the animal which is endowed with the greater speed and power should have worse feet than his inferior in both respects? Nonsense is no name for such a creed; it is something far worse. Mayhew says: ‘Nature has in vain laboured to instruct the waywardness of conceit; ​mankind could afford to endure all evils before it could afford to question the perfectibility of mortal invention. There is no accounting for incongruities when men, deserting reason, consent to adopt routine as a guide. Veterinary surgeons attribute to shoeing all the evils with which the hoof is affected. Veterinary surgeons are somewhat slow in adopting new ideas; but seem, with the firmness and tenacity ignorance displays towards a favourite superstition, to love and cling to the practices in which they have been educated.’ Some people cling to the superstition that nailing a horseshoe on the door keeps out the witches. The shoe does, certainly, less harm on the door than on the horse’s foot; but to nail it on the latter is a superstition utterly unworthy of the civilisation and intelligence of the English nation in the nineteenth century. Future historians will place upon record that an appeal had to be made to us, in the year of grace 1880, to abandon the use of artificial foundations tacked on to a living creation of God; and these historians will not fail to throw further shame on us by pointing out the fact that semi-civilised nations, with whose customs we were conversant, were able to work the horse harder than we did without any protection to his feet.
In the retreat of the French army from Moscow, the horses lost all their shoes before they reached the Vistula. Yet they found their way to France over rough, hard, frozen ground.