CHAPTER 7
The bearing-rein
Ginger and I were sold to Lord W who lived at Earlshall Park. Our new home was much bigger than Birtwick Park but it was nowhere near as nice. One of our first jobs was to take Lady W out in the carriage. Lady W was very smart and she was horrified when she first saw Ginger and me.
‘Why aren’t those horses wearing bearing-reins?’ she shouted. ‘Get their heads higher, right now. They’re not fit to be seen.’
At that time it was the fashion to drive a horse in a horrible thing called a bearing-rein. The rein pulled a horse’s head right up and held it there. It might have looked good but it was extremely uncomfortable for the horse and made his job much harder. How could you pull a carriage properly with your head stuck up in the air? It put strain on a horse’s windpipe and ruined many a good horse.
Politely, Mr York the coachman explained to Lady W that Ginger and I were not used to wearing a bearing-rein. ‘They need time to get used to it before their heads are pulled up.’
‘Rubbish!’ said Lady W, and she made Mr York pull our heads higher.
Those first trips out were very uncomfortable. My neck, back and legs ached badly after each outing. But worse was to come. A few days later Lady W was going to visit the duchess. She was late and in a bad mood when the carriage was taken to her.
‘I’m fed up with this,’ she said. ‘Get those horses heads up, right now!’
Mr York shortened my bearing-rein, and although it was horribly uncomfortable I stood quietly.
Not Ginger! She remembered how badly she’d suffered in her old life before Birtwick Park, and she panicked. The terrified Ginger reared up, hitting Mr York on the nose and almost knocking over the groom. Mr York tried to calm her but Ginger was too upset to calm down. She kicked and reared until finally she kicked her leg over the carriage pole and fell over. She caught me on my hindquarters as she went down, and I snorted with pain.
Then Mr York threw himself on Ginger’s head, pinning her to the ground before she hurt anyone else. ‘Untie the black horse,’ he ordered. ‘Quick!’
I was very angry and felt like kicking and rearing, but I remembered my training and stood still. Ginger was led away by two grooms, then Mr York came to look at me. ‘Blast those stupid bearing-reins,’ he muttered crossly.
My leg was swollen and painful, and Mr York ordered a groom to bathe it in hot water and treat it with ointment.
Ginger was never put in the carriage again. One of Lord W’s sons took her as a riding horse. I wasn’t so lucky. I still had to pull the carriage with my head tightly reined up. How I hated it! So did my new driving partner, a horse called Max.
‘It will shorten our lives,’ he warned me.
Four long months I suffered that bearing- rein. My mouth was always sore, my windpipe painful and it hurt to breathe. How I missed John and the squire! They had cared for me so kindly and they had also been my friends. Here I had no human friend at all. Each night, after work, I returned to my stable feeling sore, worn out and very depressed.
[释义]气管
[备注]
美 [ˈwɪndpaɪp]
英 [ˈwɪndpaɪp]
n. 气管；嗓门
windpipe
气管
气嗓
嗓门
windpipe e
气管
windpipe intubatton
气管插管
