When Blacksmiths & Farriers Were One & the Same
By Nancy Lee Badger for History
Undressed Aug. 1, 2013
The moment I decided that the hero in my third book in my Highland Games Through Time series was a blacksmith/farrier, I was in trouble. Research would only get me so far, so I found some help (thanks Brooke McIntosh!) Why the two terms today? A blacksmith is a metalsmith. He/she uses heat to make objects out of steel or wrought iron that is hammered, bent, or cut, to create railings, light fixtures, furniture, sculpture, tools, or weapons. A farrier specializes in hoof care; trimming and balancing a horse’s hooves, and fitting them with metal shoes. A farrier combines blacksmith skills and veterinarian’s skills, since they know the anatomy and physiology of a horse’s lower limbs.
Historically,
the jobs of farrier and blacksmith were practically synonymous. I decided not
to use the term farrier in my books as many people have never heard the term.
My hero, Jake Jamison, is a modern day farrier who also works with wrought iron
to make decorative household items. When he volunteers at Scottish Highland
games and festivals, he plays the part of a 16th century blacksmith.
Jake makes horseshoes and nails with a coal-fired furnace, or forge. Forging is
actually the process in which metal is shaped by hammering, and the techniques
employed are called drawing down, bending, shrinking, upsetting, punching, swageing,
and forge welding. These operations generally employ hammer and anvil.
Tools used in caring for a
horse’s limbs that are in use today, and mainly machine-made, are the punch,
clinch cutter, shoeing knife, nipper, nailing hammer, rasp, clincher, and the
shoeing apron. Items used today that are still very similar to those used
historically are the hammer, hoof knife, fire tongs, and hand-cranked forges.
 |
| Anvil |
 |
| Blacksmith at work |
.JPG) |
| Swords |
Here is an excerpt from MY RELUCTANT HIGHLANDER where Jake is shoeing his
horse in his barn in present-day New England:
The barn door creaked open.
He glanced up. Dust motes floated in the
slight breeze created by the open door. A shadow walked toward him with slow,
careful steps.
“Jake? May I enter?”
“Sure, but why are you out of bed?”
Reluctantly, he shook away the image of her wet, naked body and straightened.
Balfour’s partially nailed hoof hit the barn floor with a thud.
“Ye see before ye, an early morning
riser. As such, I wanted to meet yer beasts.”
Feigning checking on his horse, he
followed Skye’s slow progress from the corner of his eye. She walked closer,
and he stifled an urge to tell her she ought to rest. She would refuse to
listen to his opinion about anything, so he bit his tongue.
The early morning sunlight illuminated
her like a halo. The bright light painted the outline of her black hair with
silver tips. With her face in shadow, he was unable to read the weariness or
pain she might still suffer.
Instead, he turned his attention back to
Balfour. He shoved the animal’s hip, cradled his hoof between his thighs, and
listened.
Her steps crunched across the
hay-littered wood floor. He knew the moment she stopped at Dara’s stall.
“A magnificent garron. What be his
name?”
“Her name is Dara. Careful. She
bites.” As if to emphasize Jake’s warning, the animal’s dark brown mane shook
as Dara threw her buff-colored chest against the stall gate.
Jake peeked under Balfour’s chest.
Amazingly, Skye laughed and patted Dara’s nose. Relief washed over him, when
she backed away and continued toward him.
Silence filled the sturdy barn, except
for the snips of the grooming scissors, as he trimmed Balfour’s fetlock. The
elderly gelding snickered as he begged his owner for attention from someone
other than its owner.
“You are a spoiled brat, Balfour,” he
whispered, leaning against the horse for balance.
Skye walked closer, and the aroma of
wildflowers and fresh grass replaced the familiar smell of horse, hay, and
brisk morning air. His body tightened, and his thighs tensed. The horse
whinnied.
“Easy, Balfour. Almost done, big boy.”
Her laugh reached his ears like a low,
sweet sigh of pleasure.
Jake’s body hardened to stone so fast,
he dropped the horse’s hoof on his boot.
In contrast, here he is when Jake finds himself in a 16th
century Scottish castle:
Smoke
rose from a center hole, filling Jake with the familiar scent of a blacksmith’s
coal-fired furnace. When he glanced at the stone building’s thatched roof, he
shuddered. Memories of the castle’s huge barn, going up in smoke in record
time, stole his breath.
I almost
lost Bull.
The
young lad started to introduce him to the smithy’s assistant, a boy no more
than thirteen, then glanced up at Jake. “I doona’ know yer name, my lord.”
“I’m
Jake Jamison,” He told both youngsters.
“Are ye
not a lord? Ye live at the castle.”
He
chuckled, then grabbed a pair of thick gloves and a crude apron he spied on a
workbench.
“I’m a
blacksmith. I feel right at home,” Jake said. Slamming a hammer against red-hot
iron would go a long way, to help him forget.
The boys
stood, open-mouthed, as the iron morphed into the semblance of a rustic sword.
When sweat poured down his face, he threw off his shirt, adjusted the apron,
and continued. After he thrust the hot iron into the water barrel, memories of
his work at the Highland games made him hesitate.
The first excerpt shows his farrier talents, and the second is more
representative of a blacksmith. Hope this helps.
Skye
Gunn has spent the last five years trying to forget the blacksmith who followed
her back to 16th century Scotland, to help fight evil. Sending Jake
Jamison home against his will was a disastrous mistake. Stealing his heart was
not part of the plan. Jake must share his secret, Skye must give her heart
fully, and both must dare to love in the time they have.
For more
information:
More About Nancy
Lee Badger
She loves
chocolate-chip shortbread, wool plaids wrapped around the trim waist of a
Scottish Highlander, the clang of broadswords, and the sound of bagpipes in the
air. After growing up in Huntington, New York, and raising two handsome sons in
New Hampshire, she moved to North Carolina where she writes full-time. Nancy is
a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Carolina Romance Writers,
Fantasy-Futuristic & Paranormal Romance Writers, Triangle Area Freelancers,
and the Celtic Heart Romance Writers. Nancy and her family volunteer each fall
at the New Hampshire Highland Games, surrounded by…kilts!
Connect with
Nancy:
Website http://www.nancyleebadger.com
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5 comments:
Thank you, Eliza, for having me back and I hope your readers gain some insight into the world of farriers and blacksmiths. I will be back again soon with some more info concerning DRAGONS!
So much fun, and I love hearing about the "Smithy's" tools!
Interesting article. My uncle was a farrier. He raised race horses and did his own smithing and shoeing as well as vet work.(he had secret recipes aka his own herbal concoctions for ailing horses. He wanted me to be a vet and promised me all his tools, secrets and training if I'd apply but I just couldn't see myself operation on an animal.His children had no interest in carrying on his work so sometimes wish I had.
You just gave me some of those "warm fuzzy' memories. Thank-you.
Dory
I enjoyed the post, Nancy, and those are some great photos. I'd really like to see a real blacksmith making swords the old fashioned way.
I have used both 'blacksmith' and 'farrier' in my books.
I LOVE the smell of the smoldering coals whenever I watch a blacksmith at work at the Highland games. I keep threatening to bring marshmallows on a stick!
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