Living up here in New England teams like this don't just plow but also skid wood.
There was a old guy ( about 85) up the street from us growing up who would skid wood with his team.
They were massive and a beautiful thing to see coming through the snow on a cold morning, steam blasting
from their nostrils... Like the Budweiser clydesdales running in the snow.
A disappearing sight in America... Somehow that seems wrong. Those horses loved to pull and the old guy
standing on the logs would sweet talk those horses all the way home.
He loved them, and they loved him, pretty simple I guess. Somehow I think not all change is for the better..
Regards,
Chris