THIRD ANNUAL YEAR BOOK — PART V. 201 



THURSDAY FORENOON. 



BLACK THINGS ON THE FARM. 



J. 8. Trigg, Rockford, Iowa. 



The question of color in our domestic animals cuts no small figure 

 with many men in the selection of varieties to keep. There is probably 

 more than one breeder of Short-horn cattle present who is wedded tio 

 red as a standard color for his stock, when the facts are that a large 

 proportion of the prize winners at our stock shows, of this breed, are any 

 other color than red, some of the top-nothers being roan, while pure 

 white is associated with some of the best Short-horn pedigrees in the 

 country. The color fad may easily be carried to extremes, and in many 

 cases is. Uniformity of color in a herd is desirable, in that such a herd 

 is thus more attractive in appearance, and the way to easily obtain it is 

 partly the object of this paper. 



Speaking of the colors of domestic animals we note that among the 

 most valuable are the black ones. This color not only harmonizes with 

 the green of the fields, but in this northern latitude bespeaks a degree 

 of hardiness suited to our variable climatic conditions. There is the 

 black Percheron horse — he of the shiny, silky coat, powerful as a locomo- 

 tive, gentle as a kitten, true as steel, sound as a dollar; no curby, splint- 

 legged, balky brute, without pedigree, a product of chance, where man's 

 intervention thwarted nature in her effort to secure the survival of the 

 best. Hitch three of these horses to a sixteen-inch sulky plow, and, as 

 we saw last fall, put a pretty girl in a sunbonnet up on the seat to drive 

 them, and just see her turn over four or five acres in a day, while her 

 town sister was fretting over the cut of her new sacque or discussing 

 some ethical problem at some woman's club. There is a girl worth hav- 

 ing, as well as a team — a black-eyed, black-haired beauty — gritty, inde- 

 pendent, resourceful, helpful and rich in good health, good looks and 

 executive ability. Hitch two of these horses up and the residents of the 

 town will all say: "There goes Jones and is $500 team." 



Then there are the "Doddies," the Ethiopian kings of the beef tribe, 

 broad-backed, smooth lords of the blue grass, royal bullocks, whose juicy, 

 marbled flesh will glut the carnivorous appetite of some old wide- 

 paunched gourmand in English ducal halls, who with their near relatives, 

 the Galloways, represent the best and most modern machines for con- 

 verting blue grass, clover and corn into money, and besides have a way 

 of taking all the prizes at the state fairs. 



Then there is his excellency, the Poland-China hog — the western 

 farmer's mortgage lifter and barn builder, and the begetter of more 

 healthy bank accounts than any other animal. Black as Erebus, he roots 

 out and sleeps away his brief existence, revelling in unlimited clover, 

 milk and corn, until the very luxurious riot of living, as the man, sim- 

 ply hastens his end. He not only pays the mortgage and builds big red 

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