Last spring my fellow farmer finally got to attend the draft horse equipment auction that happens every year at the same time as our farmers’ market. I reluctantly agreed to go to the market, and was relieved when our dear daughter came with me, and did most of the work.
I got a little nervous this year as the auction approached, since our daughter wasn’t going to be around to do most of the work at the market. Luckily, I was saved by the fact that we didn’t have any produce ready yet, which is not the most profitable way to run a vegetable farm, but it made for a nice farmer date, because my fellow and I went to the auction together.
First we walked around looking at all the piles of horse-related stuff, and I made a list of potential purchases. Looking and list-making were good jobs for me, since I wouldn’t even pretend to hold the bidding number card. Once the bidding starts, auctions are even more overstimulating than farmers’ markets, in my opinion.
The first round of selling was indoors: two wagon-loads of miscellaneous stuff. We bought a horse brush, which came along with a pink plastic grain scoop, which we didn’t necessarily want, but which has already come in handy to scoop soil mix out of bags. We bought four chain connectors, all linked together, that my fellow plans to use on the stone-boat.
We also got a good start on identifying the various parties at the auction. Most of the indoor bidding was by people who must have riding stables, and want millions of halters, lead ropes, grooming kits, and muck boots. Every single item was brought up by a kid, a 4-her, we surmised, to show the crowd. Then the auctioneer would do his fast talking. It was slow going, item by item by item, through those big wagon-loads.
We had a nice break when it was time to move outside into the sunshine and breeze for the implements and parts sales. Here we bought a metal seat, a pole, several eveners and neck yokes, all for our draft horse equipment. We bought a fine pair of wheelbarrow handles.
This is also where we identified some other groups: the eight or so young Amish men, joking and jostling quietly and goofily among themselves, accompanied by two older, presumably auction-wiser Amish men.
Then there were the grubby bearded hippie farmers, such as my very own farmer fellow, buying the kind of tired stuff dragged out of a hopeful seller’s hedgerow and sent to the auction. Prices were dismally low, disheartening even if you were buying instead of selling. How come no hopeful farmer wanted all this tired but still useful horse-drawn equipment? Even the auctioneer seemed discouraged.
Occasionally and unexpectedly there would be a little run of bidding: some old ice tongs, perhaps, or a barrel. These went to the mostly-retired antiquers, looking for interesting things to put on their lawns, or to sell in their shops, or more likely to sell on Ebay.
One of the nicest moments was watching a woman bidding against another person on some antique thingy, going up little by little until she shook her head, no more. The auctioneer called out, “New bidder,” pointing to a man standing ten feet behind the woman. The price kept going up. When the woman turned around to see who finally had the high bid, she started laughing. Turns out they were a couple, and he was laughing, too, because he had bought it for her, knowing she wouldn’t go up that high. They were well-pleased with one another.
My fellow and I were well pleased with one another, too, and our date. “You want me to buy you a nice antique thingy?” my fellow offered.
“Naw,” I answered, “You’re my nice antique thingy,” and we held hands right there at the auction.
Originally published in the Monadnock Shopper News, May 31-June 6, 2023