"Breaking colts" is a phrase handed down to us, I think, from the days way back when our pioneer ancestors used to go out and catch a wild horse and break it to saddle and harness. On ranches where colts range over vast areas and never get acquainted with human beings except at branding time, it is little wonder that they must be broken. They do a little breaking on their own account, too. But on the small farm where three or four colts a year or fewer are raised, no colt should need to be "broken." All should be trained, which is one way of saying taught or educated.
Everything depends upon the colt's learning each thing right first. If you put an old, worn strap on him, or a fraying rope which he can break, he will just as likely as not become a halter and bridle breaker.
A little colt starts out without any habits. All the bad ones as well as all the good ones are learned. Every bad habit harks right back to some mistake. You can manufacture balky horses by overloading a wagon for your team of colts. I have seen boys tease a colt "just to see him kick." That strikes me as lacking in "horse sense."
Every time you go out with your father to visit the two-year-olds and the yearlings, be sure that you pet and caress them. Don't attempt to mount one till you have accustomed him to the feel of a burden on his back, a very small weight first, then the saddle of an old harness, then a very light saddle. Don't act as if you were in desperate need of a saddle horse. His training cannot all be done in one visit. A yearling must be taught to lead, then to be driven.
After a two-year old has been accustomed to the feel of a harness, one part at a time, he can safely be hitched with some old stager to a light wagon, and taught what pulling means. He should already know that a pull on the right rein means "gee" and on the left means "haw"; never give the command "whoa" to a colt, unless you have the muscle to make your command good. A runaway may not break any harness, nor any vehicle, nor any bones, this time, but a runaway horse is an ill-trained horse.
It is almost an impossible thing to train an old, high-spirited horse to regard an automobile or a trolley car with anything but disfavour. A young horse can learn easily. Soon after a colt is well "halter-broke" he should be led around where the farm machinery is at work. He must be held with a strong hand and not be allowed to bolt when the mowing machine starts. Break the automobile to him gently. Lead him up to a quiet one. Have a bit of his favourite dainty to offer him from the seat and see to it that he is convinced that the automobile is harmless. (Would that it were true!) Speak reassuringly to him. If he jerks back, don't get mad and whack him, just to vent your impatience. He will associate your whack with the automobile, and you will have your work to do over again. I have known of a colt being made "trolley-wise" in an hour and he never has forgotten; he would no more shy when one whirls by than he would at his own mother hitched to a load of hay.
TREADMILLS AND CRANKS
How a boy does hate the sight of a crank. Turning the grindstone, running the washing machine and churning are part of a country boy's daily life. He may do these things cheerfully, because he knows they are boys' jobs or because he hates to see his mother doing them even worse than he hates doing them himself. But that doesn't prove that the boy's tastes run to crank turning.
Why not train a dog or a sheep to turn the crank? That's a scheme. It's fun to train an animal and then it will be more fun to see him do the work while you read a book and watch him.
Here is a picture of a big wheel from which a belt runs to a grindstone out under a tree. In the wheel stands a good dog; by his bright eyes, his erect carriage, and the "near-smile" on his face, you can see that he is no brow-beaten labourer. A man at the grindstone holds the axe and the wheel is ready to turn. This fine dog knows that a certain signal means work. He does not skulk off and hide, nor yawn and look limp. He steps up into the wheel, waits for the signal, then begins a steady tread. On Mondays he does the washing, on Tuesdays and Fridays he churns, on other days he helps grind the axe, the sickle, the scythe, or the butcher knife. When the job is done, at a well-known signal, the dog stops, steps off the wheel, and waits for the kindly pat of his mistress or the "Good old fellow" of his master.