There's a horse, cried William, my four year old son pointing to the first he had seen. There's a horse, he shouted, Look, there's a horse! I'd never seen him so keen. So we stopped, we looked and learned some new words, like harness and hoof and mane. We examined the horse from front to back and even gave it a name. Hi, Horsy, (his choice), Can you talk? Can you run? Can you pull that cart all about? Can I touch? Will you bite? My son asked the horse. It whinnied and shook its white snout. I remembered the time I saw my first horse, it was just after our family moved here. That's some time ago, but I'll freely admit, that horse gave me something to fear. I was little and didn't quite understand about milkmen and bakers and others So when I stepped back from the rear of the horse, I was teased by two of my brothers. It amazed me as I watched the wise horse pull the milk wagon on down the lane It stopped at each house without a word or a gentle tug on the rein. What made this horse who never looked right or left but just straight before Know when to move on or stop at the edge while the milkman went door to door? This remains a mystery to me to this day and I think I'll tell my son Will That horses are smart, they learn just like you and I guess they always will. But that was not the only horse I recalled. There were others I do truly declare. The baker used one to pull him around while he peddled his freshly baked wares And his creature was no less than the milkman's beast, he knew where to stop and go Another deep puzzle that will go unsolved. I guess I never will know. For unlike the milkman, who stopped at each house 'cause everybody needed fresh cow, The baker just stopped where he was signaled to stop. He knew, but the horse - how? The horse couldn't read any signs at the doors, she never looked sideways at all. She would not stop for any old voice. the baker had his own special call. I'll have to tell William this story some day and amaze him with tales of the past. I'll have to tell him all about these two men and how their horses never went fast. Another old horse I remember from then was nearly as vital as these. The iceman, my favorite, I followed each day to get a treat that would freeze The top of my mouth and my lips and my tongue, but wipe off the sawdust first. It may have been dirty but on a hot day, "Oh, my did it quench my thirst." The very best thing about the ice wagon was if you missed it, it was easy to find, For all you did was check on the road and see the wet trail left behind. The snow-plows in winter were powered by horse and the worker walked beside Giving us room to hop on the wood blade and treat ourselves to a ride. This horse was dumb and not at all smart like the others who knew where to go. This horse just worked straining his back while it cleared a path in the snow. There are other horses I'll describe to my son, especially those in the woods. They pulled great loads in zero degrees, helped the loggers deliver their goods. A good team of Clydesdales could work dawn to dusk and never once stop for a rest These hard-working beasts worked hours on end, rewarded with only the best. Their value to Spruce was measured in cords, in tons, in dollars, I'm sure But with the advance of motorized things, the horse would not endure. So out of the bush they came to rest and probably be given new chores Like pulling a wagon delivering goods for the local grocery stores. Even this day as I talk to my son and explain the wonders of yore I know he'll not really grasp the way that the horse knew to stop at our door. He'll not comprehend the work of the horse, its training and habits so true, But he will get to know that horses exist and will see what modern horses do. I can't leave this tale with nary a word about by-products that were created I had to be sharp to watch on the road or my mother would not be elated. On warm summer days you had to avoid the neat piles of digested hay. But in the cold winter, a find of a pile meant there would be hockey that day. They didn't last long as pucks in the game for they broke up and flew all around. But of the horse and its work in the past, piles of memories will surely abound.