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Prime Times Weekly publication of the Mail Tribune , Medford, Oregon If The Shoe Fits Bend farrier brings half a century of experience to the job By ANDY WHIPPLE for The Associated Press BEND -- After more than a half century, Larry Davis is still shoeing horses. Photo from AP Horseshoer Larry Davis, 70, works on a client's horse at Rock Springs Guest Ranch in Bend. After more than half a century of shoeing horses, Davis has decided to accept no new clients. "Shoeing has worked out good for me," Davis said, looking up for a moment from his work. His lean frame remains in classic farrier position: legs and back bent, the horses upturned hoof pinched gently between his knees. Davis wears chaps and a baseball hat. Wide-brimmed cowboy models, he notes, are easily bumped off. Davis, 70, was lucky enough to learn horseshoeing from his grandfather in the early 1940s. "I went to school to be a teacher," he said, "so I could have lots of time off. I worked as a shoer while I was going to college and while I was teaching, too." "In 1920, there were 20 million horses in the United States," said Davis, who taught history for 25 years. "In 1960, fewer than three million, and those were work horses. The business today is pleasure animals." The 40-year period Davis cites was, not coincidentally, an era of profound change in American agriculture: Mechanization not only ended the horse-and-plow era, but it also favored larger and larger operations. "They used to breed horses for strength," Davis said. "In the old days, you were working with big, stout animals that weren't even halter-broke. Now, they're bred for looks. They're pets, most of them. And most of my customers 95 percent of them are women." Horses' shoes have changed as well. Traditionally, the blacksmith started with raw iron, heated it over a wood or coal fire and hand-shaped each and every shoe over an anvil. Davis' grandfather probably used steel bar stock and, later in his career, enjoyed the convenience of factory-stamped shoes that could be customized. On millennium eve, farriers like Davis travel to the horse (instead of vice versa) in a pickup with a tank of propane in the back. And the hammering of red-hot metal is headed for the barn of history. "We got so many factory shoes to pick from today ... the only time you need to use a forge is for show biz," Davis said. "Maybe to save your arm. Least likely would be actually modifying a shoe." Because factory shoes are such close fits, Davis and his peers can do whatever minor bending is needed without heating the metal. Thus the cold-shoeing technique replaces hot-shoeing. Davis uses a four-pound hammer, which is considered heavy. But he's figured out a way to save his arm and his propane at the same time: He chokes up on the handle, close to the head and lets the sledge fall instead of swinging it. The weight does the pounding, the height determines the impact. Not rocket science, but beautiful. For most outdoor horses, shoeing is a yearly expense. It'll cost you $50 to $70 per animal. The farriers tool kit has hardly changed at all: hammer, clippers, clincher, rasp and farrier's knife. Davis made his own shoer's box, which lets him reach his tools without stooping, leaning or straightening up. Back problems, he said, discourage many beginning farriers. His working posture takes getting used to, but he said there's very little pain. Horseshoe nails have a left and right side, so they'll curl away from the hoof. You won't see farriers acting like carpenters, with a mouthful of nails. Davis carries his on a circular magnet with an alligator clip on the back, so it can be pinned to his shirt. After he's clipped off the nail tips and dressed the seam where the shoe meets the hoof, Davis takes another magnet -- this one with a string attached, and drags it through the work area. Not rocket science, just good workmanship. "Horseshoeing's the same," Davis said. "It's the horse that's changed. Wish I had the carrot concession for Central Oregon." Asked to explain, Davis sketches a scene that includes a pampered horse, a horse-pamperer armed with a bag of carrots and a frustrated farrier. The animal refuses to hold still, making the shoer's job difficult or even dangerous. The owner attempts to calm the horse by stuffing it with carrots, but the animal doesn't get it. The carrots reinforce the bad behavior instead of inspiring good behavior. In order to work without injury, the farrier must show the horse who's boss. In most cases the farrier must first explain to the owner why he has to get rough with her horse. Carolyn Horton, who's had her horses shoed by Davis for 18 years, tells the story of a two-year-old stallion and a befuddled owner. "She couldn't get a halter on him. She was even afraid to go into the paddock with him. Larry got him into a stall and the horse was just charging into the gate, over and over again," Horton said. "Larry let him do that for a while, then went right into the stall and kicked him twice, in the belly, hard. The horse stood there, with this expression on his face, like, `Oh ... I see.' And that was the end of the trouble." What's ahead for Davis? One thing he's happy about: His 19-year-old grandson will be working alongside him this summer, just as Davis did with his grandfather 57 years ago. He's also going to retire from shoeing -- sort of: He's not taking any more new clients, but has booked enough work for at least a year. "I like being my own boss, I like horses, I like people and I like being able to work outdoors," he said. "So I'll keep shoeing as long as I can." Prime Times front page Mail Tribune front page Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA