The next morning my father and I drove down the road near Intercourse, looking for a white sign showing a black anvil and the words "Horse Shoeing --- Closed Wednesdays." Elam had arrived before us, and was rolling his carriage out of the way as our car turned into the driveway. Buster was already tied up at the rail. A sign inside noted "All shoeing by appointment only." The row of horses reminded me of people awaiting their turn in a doctor's office. Buster was next, right on schedule at 10:00.

I observed the shop. Brooms and other tools were hanging from (what else?)... horseshoes attached to the walls and ceiling beams. Two metal frames were connected to the ceiling, and these could obviously be released to swing down on either side of a rambunctious horse during a shoeing. Of course, there was an anvil, various tools, rows of horseshoes of different sizes hanging above, and a specially designed rolling cart which contained all the tools needed in their proper places.

Johnny, the blacksmith, was a young man, dressed in the traditional Amish black pants and plain shirt. He had a heavy apron, perhaps leather, over top for the work he was doing. Johnny started with the front hooves and then moved to the back. The first step involved removing the nails and horseshoes themselves, cleaning out the dirt accumulated in each hoof. Then a special tool was used to cut off about a half inch of the actual hoof, all the way around. After further scraping and filing, each hoof was pretty much down to the bone base of the horse's leg.

The hoof material is basically like our fingernails, only very thick and hard, of course. The shoes keep the hooves from wearing down too fast on the roads, but the hooves need to be shortened since they continue to grow with the horseshoes attached. Elam told us new shoes were needed about four to five times a year, or every two to three months.

Elam walked over to get the broom and sweep away the dirt removed. I asked him if he thought the bill was going to be less because he was helping to clean. He laughed and said, "No, Johnny knows I'm doing it out of friendship."

Now Johnny took the horseshoes he had removed to hammer them on an anvil a bit so as to straighten them out, seeing if they could be used yet another time. Then he used a small blowtorch to raise the surface on parts of the shoe to help give the horse more traction on the roads.

While Johnny worked, he whistled and sang, barely audible over the noise from the torch. Elam whispered to me that "they are a singing family." When he was finished, he dipped the now red metal into water, and clouds of steam rose around him as we heard that familiar hissing sound.

Now Johnny was ready to put the shoes back on again. Eight nails were driven through the holes in the shoes until the point came out at an angle through the side of the hoof. The point was then hammered back into the hoof to anchor it. The excess was cut off, and then another tool was used to further secure the nail. What little was left was filed away, and then the hoof was shaved down even with the shoe. Buster seemed to take it all in stride, not unlike a lady getting a manicure.

As the job neared completion, Elam asked the price, which was $27.56 (in 1996), and he wrote out a check. In less than 45 minutes from the time he arrived, Buster was again hitched up to the carriage and heading home with a new pair of shoes.

As my father and I passed Elam in our car, we waved. I watched as Buster and the buggy disappeared from sight in my rearview mirror. My father commented, "You know, Elam was about right when he compared Buster's getting new shoes to our getting new tires on the car."

Luckily, however, we don't need to get new tires or re-treads every three months! But then, how many of us have a personal relationship with the man who changes the tires, enjoy friendly conversation while the job is being done, and pay only twenty-seven dollars for the work?

Amish Country News Article by Brad Igou, (1999)