The Favour
"A righteous man regardeth the life of his beasts, but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel"
-- Proverbs 12:40
My Dad was born in the year of our Lord 1919. By the time he was 20 he had spent many long days following teams of work horses around the farm. My Grandfather raised and bred exceptional championship work horses of three different breeds -- Belgian, Clydesdale and Percheron. If it's true that every story requires a bad guy then for the purposes of this story my Grandfather would be that guy. He liked good horses but to him they were nothing more than way to get farm work done and a way to make money. My Granddad's tender mercies were few and far between.
In 1939 most of Europe was in flames; unbelievable cruelties were commonplace as the Nazis swept across Europe. Back in Canada the DeSmet family farm was getting ready for winter. The crops were in the bin and the field work was done. On November 10th the first winter blizzard blasted across central Alberta bringing with it heavy snow and high winds. Granddad decided it would be best to head into town (Gallahad) to pick up supplies before things got worse. Dad went to the barn and harnessed up a light driving team to the sleigh for the trip to town. On the way back the storm had gotten worse and the drifts were deeper. About a hundred metres from home and the barn the sleigh now loaded heavily with supplies got stuck in a deep snow drift. Granddad started to whip the team in order to make them pull harder.
I don't remember my Dad ever expressing a fondness for working with horses or any farm animal. Perhaps he had spent too many hours of hard work in the field walking behind a team of horses. What I do know is that in his life he would be witness to many kinds of cruelty being inflicted on man and the horse. I also know that he did have regard for both the well-being of man and beast.
He once told me that the greatest favour that man ever showed the horse was when Henry Ford invented the internal combustion engine.
Back then, in November of 1939, Dad wished to do a favour for Granddad's light driving team. He asked Granddad to sit tight while he ran home and got a big team to pull the sleigh out of the drift and the rest of the way home. By the time he got back somehow Granddad had whipped the team into pulling the sleigh free. They stood there shivering and shaking, lathered with sweat and unable to go any further.
The next morning Dad expressed his distain for this type of cruelty. He packed his bag, said his goodbyes and walked and hitch-hiked to Edmonton. Once there he joined the Army's 8th Field Regiment. A few weeks later he was on board the Empress of Bermuda on his way to the cruelties of World War II. It would be seven years before he would return to Alberta.
If my records are correct I have worked with as many as 9000 different horses. I have never known one that didn't require a favour from time to time. The favours that horses ask for aren't all that different from those that are sought by man. A favour to the miserable is called mercy; a favour to the poor is called pity. That was the type of favour that Dad was hoping to offer Granddad's light team. A favour to the suffering is called compassion and the favour required by the obstinate is called patience.
A good argument can be made that horses along with all other beasts of the earth deserve these types of favours. Most would find it hard to make the same argument for mankind. Since 1905 over 90 million human beings have been sacrificed without any regard to favour on the altars of war and genocide--all because of the human sicknesses of power and greed. How can a favour be offered to such a creature as man? Yet one is offered. It is offered to the totally undeserving and it's offered by the Creator of the universe, God Almighty. This favour is called Grace.
Many years ago I came across a poem. I think Dad would have agreed with its message.
'Look back at our struggle for freedom,
Trace our present-day strengths to their source
and you'll find man's pathway to glory
is strewn with the bones of the horse.'
-- author unknown
Richard
