PONY TALES

[dazb]

THE SACKED HORSE
This story was told to me by my grandfather, who swore it to be true so I have little reason to believe that it would be anything other than the truth, well, apart from the fact that he presented me with a wooden sword when I was six years old and told me that it was one that he had used in the Boer War when he had fought with it against the Hot n Tots. It all backfired a little on him when I smuggled it into school and was proudly demonstrating how he had used it in the war, a teacher caught me confiscated this treasured weapon. He was invited to collect it and then explain why a six year old in his charge was allowed to take relics of war into school, it was the nearest I ever got to a good hiding from him.
In the early years of nationalisation of the pits he was a trade union committee member at Wath Main Colliery, and as such was elected to the joint management, union and workers safety inspection committee. On the very first underground inspection one particular face was designated as a target, on the group’s entry into the maingate they found a horse tethered to the belt range structure and blocking their way. In an adjacent manhole they could see its young driver sleeping soundly, no one could really contradict the manager, who was leading this inspection when he went forward and prodded the youth with his stick in order to rouse him, “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” The startled youth leapt up saw who it was and nearly died, “Sorry gaffer, I was just waiting for some empties, I couldn’t help it” “Well yer had better help it lad, being asleep is not only illegal it is not what I pay you for, get yourself better organised lad” My grandfather at this point said that he felt proud of the way that the manager had handled the situation, giving the lad a deserved rousting but not going over the top, they continued up the main gate.
On reaching the face it was related to them that there had been a fall mid face but that everything was in hand, work was in progress to get timber up and it was now secured. The inspection team went up and looked at the repair work but not wanting to hinder the ongoing clean up it was suggested that they back track and walk round to the tailgate The manager accepted this and about turned the committee, back down the maingate; lo and behold the horse was still attached to the belt structure and its driver back asleep in a manhole as before. But this time the lad has moved the horse a short way up the gate in the certain knowledge that the manager would go through the face and travel out of the pit on the return roads. My grandfather said that he was probably as disappointed as the manager at this point, and stood back a little whilst the youth got his comeuppance, but this time the manager lost it, he took it as a personal insult and attacked the lad with his stick, screaming rather than the controlled shouting as before, “You bloody thing I pay you fifteen bob a day to lay asleep and the bloody horse costs me one and six a day to do nowt but stand there, I tried to be nice, you took no notice then but take your notice now, yer sacked and take the bloody horse with you” The youth stood up and said; “Gaffer I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t right to be asleep, but don’t sack the hoss” “What yer on about sack the horse?” “You said he was sacked, but that in’t fair cos he was working” “Working, working how the bloody hell was it working, it was tied to the bloody belt range?” “Yer but he was still working” “How could it be working it was stood staring at the bloody belt?” “Well that’s it gaffer, I had him looking out for bad joints”

[John]

Biggest "hoss" I ever saw underground, was when I did my underground training at Hucknall No1 pit. This pit was the main training centre for the Notts No6 area and was just a ventilation shaft emergency egress for several pits, Hucknall No2, Linby and Bestwood Collieries.
The training centre had an U/G classroom, stables with just the one "pony", more like a bloody draughthorse than a pit pony, and also a hand hewed face.
We were doing pony haulage this particular day, and the instructor was going through all the names of the gear we were to put on this huge monster he called a pit pony!
These are limmers he would say, can't remember all the other bits he told us about, way too long ago for this old electrician!
Anyway, he put all the gear on this day and we went off to "play at being supply lads" . The "hoss" had a bad habit of trying to torment us young lads by turning around when one of us was too close to him, and had a bite at us!
Day two of pony haulage was our turn to kit the "hoss" out. "Go on then, fasten his belly straps like I showed you" the instructor said. As soon as one of us got close the "hoss" would turn around and try and bite the one trying to fasten the strap.
"Come of, we haven't all day, gerrout the way" he said as he took over, "bloody "hoss" won't hurt you, he's just playful" said the instructor!
He was in the right spot buckling the belly straps up when the "hoss" turned his head and "playfully" grabbed the blokes elbow in his front teeth......I can't say what words came out his mouth, the instructors, that is, but the air was kind of blue!
His elbow swelled up to the size of a good sized orange in the shortest time I have ever seen.
Needless to say there were a few smirks, we daren't laugh out loud, he was bigger than us trainees.... ;D

[dazb]

AN HOSS STOPPED ME BOLTIN!


At the time of my starting in the pit horses were supposed to be a thing of the past, I never expected seeing one let alone working with one, but I did both. In 1966 I can say that to the best of my knowledge horses were working at the following collieries,
Crigglestone; Prince of Wales; North Gawber and South Kirkby Collieries. I believe that many other NCB collieries continued to be worked for many years with horses and ponies, the probability is that some smaller private mines are still using them to this day.
I always felt sorry for the animals working in the pits (and the horses as well, sorry colleagues could resist that), not that the horses were badly treated at all whilst they were working, but just the obvious fact that they stayed underground for most of their working life. One incident at Crigglestone Colliery resulted in my converting a small part of this sympathetic concern to an equal amount of distrust and at least a splash of fear.
I was only an apprentice at the time and working with a fitter from the NCB Area Workshops, we had to replace all the shearer guard plates (The protective covers around hoses and top covers that prevented wear against the roof support canopies). The guards had already been transported to the face site, but “some” bolt fasteners were still in the stores, I was allocated the task of collecting these few bolts whilst the rest of the team would go into the pit and start removing the old covers. I very nearly died when the storekeeper showed me the two sackfulls of nuts and bolts, together there was probably more than one hundredweight of steel to carry about a mile and a half to the face, ah well not to worry this sort of job is what they paid me the £7.50 a week for. I tied the two bags together with a four foot length of rope, the store keeper helped me get the rope over my shoulders and aimed me in the general direction of the man-riding shaft, the two sacks in the front of me at waist height assisting in my forward propulsion. By the time I had got into the pit bottom it felt like the rope was going to break my neck, only a mile and a half still to walk. I travelled as fast as I could, bearing in mind that if I stumbled, fell and managed to avoid a broken neck, the chances were that I would be pinned to the floor anyway.
When I eventually arrived at the maingate end, neck intactus, I just had to stop and rest, I was soaked with sweat my neck was chaffed raw by the rope and even my hips hurt where the bolts had banged against me. I noticed the horse “Parked” just inside the gate a little way beyond the belt drive, so I stopped just at the junction, shouldered the bags off me and just sunk down onto my knees. Ten or fifteen minutes later I found sufficient courage to reload and tackle the remaining six hundred yards or so, the belt was full of coal so even if there had been someone to operate the gate belt and run the bolts in on the bottom belt, it would have meant all the belts into the pit bottom bunker being run as well, I even considered hijacking the horse, but I had no idea how to "switch one on". Before I set off on the last dash, I put a chew of tobacco in, a couple of chews to get the juices going, under the rope, stand up and off I went. As I approached the horse from behind he started to shuffle his feet, I was always aware of the possibility of a horse kicking out backwards so keeping as far away from him as the roadway side would allow, I came up to him talking to him in a similar manner as I would when approaching a strange guard dog, “Here lad, steady now, good lad, good boy, narr then, good lad”.
He actually appeared to respond and he moved slightly to the side as if to give me a clearer passage, I was just about to praise him again when he slid his hind up to me and pushed me into the ring side, gently and smoothly as if to get the feel of me being there, I put my flat hand on his flank and pushed him off me “Gerr over yer daft bugger” the horse understood and eased off me, I took one more step forward and he took one step sideways and this time pinned me to the side.
Close to panic I shouted at him and tried to push him off me, not even an inch movement from him, he just literally laid on me. It is worth mentioning at this point that on the second squeeze I had swallowed the tobacco. Each time I tried to move he just added a little pressure, but then released it a little when he had shown me who the boss was. I could hardly believe that this bloody great horse had taken me prisoner; I tried shouting at him, sweet talking him, all to no avail, until suddenly the burning lump at the back of my throat where the tobacco had forced its way down, caused me to wretch and vomit. As soon as he heard this, the horse stepped away from me and allowed me to escape. I only managed a few steps of clearance, shrugged of the sacks and hanging onto the belt structure was as sick as the proverbial dog.
I felt terrible, the tobacco “poisoning” was making my head spin, my throat was burning my stomach was churning, I hated that horse, Trigger seemed appropriate, not as a personal name for it but as an instrument to be used on it. I unfastened one bag and left it in the side, the other I struggled forward with and eventually arrived at the face to be greeting with; “Where the bloody hell has tharr been, did tha go back home for thi tea or what?”
It was some weeks before the subject was dropped, I wished that I had just said that I wasn’t well that day and certainly wished that I had never mentioned the horse having captured me, every where I went, even in the local pub I got “whinnied” at from afar.
Strangely enough I have a Staffordshire bull terrier dog, who does exactly the same to me and only me, no one else in the family and always on the stairs. Luckily he is a ton or so lighter than the horse and I no longer chew tobacco in the house.

[Ragger]

Happy days working with the pit ponies. ;D

Collecting the pony from the stables and putting it's gear on; I usually folded the body harness from the rear of the pony, to above the girth strap, where all the loose straps and chains could be tied up to the back pad. This was to ensure a little more comfort for the pony when travelling inbye to the work area, the chains were thus prevented from swinging and hitting the pony on the legs.

It was also more comfortable for me if I decided I was going to jump on the pony's back for a ride inbye. It was illegal to ride the ponies but most "putters" ( men who moved tubs, usually with a pony ) did it, if they were caught they could be reported to the Manager of the colliery and fined a sum of money which was donated to a local charity.



I recall one occasion when the Safety Officer hid in a small recess just below the stables with his light out. As each pony was returned to the stables at the end of the shift ( most of the putters were riding the ponies), the safety officer switched on his cap-lamp, jumped out and shouted "I've got you", "I've caught you","I've caught you".
He caught me alright ,he was very fortunate that he was not trampled underfoot that day. That particular stretch of roadway was fairly high and the ponies galloped along at a fair pace, jumping out like that was not the wisest thing to do, the pony would have received a fright,(as well as me), and it could have veered, and collided with the safety officer.
The final outcome of this little episode was a dressing down by the Manager of the mine and a fine of £2. In those days, the early 1960's, £2 was a big chunk out of my pay. I had 5 shillings a week stopped from my pay until the fine was paid. Needless to say, I never rode a pony underground again. (lol),Well,......that is, I was never caught again.

[John]

Reminds me of 41's face, it was a couple of miles walk uphill to get to the main manrider, so we always rode the belts outbye, all legal by the way!
Coming off nights, we had to be careful, full Ascot race along 1's mainroad!!! Supply lads racing each other along the main trunk conveyor road, if the outbye Deputy's caught them they were in trouble!

Around the time I was about 19 or 20 year old apprentice, I worked mainly on 51's face which needed a complete pan change, so many holes in the pans it was "dangerous to ride it anymore" Not that I ever rode an AFC.....errrmm
Anyway, we had all sorts of problems with gummings blocking the bottom race I was sent with a pocket full of fusable plugs to the tailgate end whilst the electrician I was working under did the same at the maingate.
51's was about a mile inbye from the truck conveyor and the tailgate had quite a few low spots.
One shift I was having my snap in front of the GEB's when the supply lads arrived with face supplies in tubs, flats and jotties behind their pony. Usual practice was to unhitch the pony and put his feed bag on while they unloaded the supplies, but someone forgot the feed bag and the pony was sniffing around the jackets hanging from wires on the rings.
I finished me snap to go and change a fusible plug, then returned to my little spot. Not long after a young supply lad came up to me and asked me if I'd seen his "hoss", no mate not for a while I replied to him, he may have strayed a bit down the gate. The lads took off outbye looking for the pony.
About half an hour or so they returned and said they couldn't find him! How far could a pit pony go in total darkness? I'd have thought not very far, especially as there was a few real low spots in the roadway!
An hour or so passed and the Deputy walked up to me, he'd nearly been bowled over when he came through the air doors at the bottom of the tail gate! Bloody "hoss" he said... ;D
There were three doors at the bottom of the T/G so the pony had to wait until someone else ventured through the doors , each time he bowled that person over getting passed them until he was loose on 2's trunk belt road and off he took outbye.
The supply lads called the inbye bunker site, "yeh an 'oss ran passed here about an hour ago" was the reply, he was now on 1's main road heading "home".
Story was the same when they phoned 1's No4, 1's No3, 2, the pony had been spotted working his way outbye.
The supply lads were getting worried now, "Bloody Hostler will kill us" they said!

Luck was on their side, the pony was waiting at the top of Stone Head Drift outside the airdoors when they got to pit bottom early, so saved themselves from a right good B@#$@#!*&% from the Hostler.

What amazed me was how on earth could the animal make it safely, it had travelled some six plus miles, 90% in total darkness!!
I've had the main bulb on my caplamp burn out and found it hard to get around on the pilot bulb. I knew of an electrician I worked with who told me his lamp failed one shift while he was on his own, he went on all fours along the rails!!

[Ragger]

Air-doors.

Wonder how many can remember pit ponies that could open the air-doors for you. There were quite a few I know of.

They always seemed to know when they were on the right side of the doors to be able to open them.

[John]

Never saw a pony open air doors bill, but often saw a "team of horses" generally a couple of hundred in the form of a cat diesal engine with four wheels and a bucket open air doors by themselves ;D

[ken]

I am telling this story here because it is about pit animals. It is not funny but strange. I think it happened when I was an apprentice electrician. One of the jobs we had was maintaining the open wire signals on the main haulages. This happened on a long main and tail haulage which was used for men and materials.
I was in the middle of nowhere and miles from any lighting when I saw a light heading towards me. it wasn't a cap lamp - a different colour. Eventually it became two lights and the I saw it was cat walking along the tub rail. It paid little attention to me and continued on its way. I knew there were cats in the pit in the stables where they helped to keep the mice down. Eventually I reached the stables and mentioned this to the horse-keeper. Thats the tomcat from the Hutton Seam he told me. He comes up here from the Hutton Seam, hangs around for a few days, and gets this cat pregnant, then goes back home. When this cat has had its kittens and is in season again he appears back on the scene. No one knows how he found this cat was here as the ventilation was separate and he could not have smelled her. There was a drift between the two seams about halfway out-bye which he must have traveled, but how he found it was one of life's little mysteries.
Ken

[John]

Mar 14, 2010 3:53:31 GMT -5 ken said:

I am telling this story here because it is about pit animals. It is not funny but strange. I think it happened when I was an apprentice electrician. One of the jobs we had was maintaining the open wire signals on the main haulages. This happened on a long main and tail haulage which was used for men and materials.
I was in the middle of nowhere and miles from any lighting when I saw a light heading towards me. it wasn't a cap lamp - a different colour. Eventually it became two lights and the I saw it was cat walking along the tub rail. It paid little attention to me and continued on its way. I knew there were cats in the pit in the stables where they helped to keep the mice down. Eventually I reached the stables and mentioned this to the horse-keeper. Thats the tomcat from the Hutton Seam he told me. He comes up here from the Hutton Seam, hangs around for a few days, and gets this cat pregnant, then goes back home. When this cat has had its kittens and is in season again he appears back on the scene. No one knows how he found this cat was here as the ventilation was separate and he could not have smelled her. There was a drift between the two seams about halfway out-bye which he must have traveled, but how he found it was one of life's little mysteries.
Ken

That's amazing, one would think the total absence of light away from the stables area would deter the little feller Ken!
I have known of one instance of a pony deciding he'd had enough and made his way back to pit bottom by himself. Travelled around six miles along the belt roads and was found waiting by the supply lad who was in charge of him, at the air doors near pit bottom. Lucky that's as far as he'd got, or the Hostler would have had the supply lad hanging on a nail in the stables for the rest of his life!!

[erichall]

How on earth did the poies know where 'home' was? Shortly after I started working at Barrow colliery in the then S.Barnsley area, the stables were in the Fenton seam. Each shift they were brought to the shaft side, taken on the chair up the shaft to the Lidgett Seam where they came off via a folding flap. They were used solely in this seam.
Meanwhile , in the lower seam we were setting out a 'New Scheme' involving a run for minecars using gravity and crawler chains. This was eventually coupled through to the Lidgett seam via a new cable-belt drift. This met the Ldgett seam far away from the area used by the ponies, and no ponies had ever been in the 'New Scheme'
One day a pony went awol from its handler in the lidgett seam. It eventually made its way unseen and unaided back to the stables in the lower seam. In order to achieve this it had progressed down a new drift, crossed at least2 converyors, and made its way through NS workings into the older part of the Fenton seam where the stables were situated. And in darkness too. Horse sense?

[John]

No idea how they did it Eric, but sure made a bloke think!!
How did the rats and mice navigate in total darkness?
I've seen rats run the rails in Australia, blinded by the lights of the diesel personnel cars then flattened as we ran over them. They used to climb up onto cables to cross water filled swilley's. How did they find cables fastened from the roof??

During my underground training in 1964, the Instructor told us to turn off our caplamps so he could demonstrate how much light a flame safety lamp put out, me marveled at the old miners who had to rely on that small amount of light. But total darkness??? Makes one think.

[erichall]

John, Happy New Year to you and all who visit the site.
Regarding 'Total Darkness' its a very peculiar sensation.
As Safety Engineer, it was often my 'pleasure' to accompany visitors of all descriptions into the mine. One thing I always did was to reach a spot somewhere in the Tail Gate, stop, and ensuring my oil lamp was lit, put out my Electric Cap Lamp and ask all the visitors to do the same. This gave them some idea of the type of lighting the old miners worked under. Then, after a warning, I would put out the oil lamp and stand a short whlie. A good ploy was to ask visitors to hold their hands before their eyes, then ask them if they could see their hand in total darkness.
I always found it a remarkable experience. If done while you are on your own, it becomes even more of an experience since, despite the lack of sound from belts, haulages, men etc. you can hear the groans etc of the strata, the timber under stress and other things. One would think that to accompany total darkness would come total silence, but this was something I never experienced.

[John]

When I was doing my U/G training, which was done at the old Hucknall No1 colliery, we were taken to a training face hewed out by mining trainees and installed with timber and a conveyor belt. We'd been talking about the amount of light pre electric lamp days. The Instructor hung his oil lamp from a nail in one of the props and told us to turn our caplamps off.
Quite an experience once the eyes adjusted to the light from the oil lamp.
How the old colliers managed certainly makes me wonder.

One of the electricians I worked under as an apprentice once told me his lamp failed when he was working. He told me the only thing was either sit it out until someone came looking for him or blindly try and make his way outbye.
He chose the latter, he got down on his knees and crawled out using the rails as his guide.
Not really a lot one can do!

But being in total darkness does make ones other senses more acute as you mentioned Eric.

[Sam from Kent]

One night shift the pumps in the gate had failed and we had got them going, but I stopped on on my own to make sure they kept going until the day shift arrived. So I settled down with a book - The Pan Book of Horror Stories and my lamp went out - it was a long wait for the day shift!!!!!!!!!

[shropshirebloke]

A book?!?! We were told we weren't allowed to take any paper underground because of the fire risk. I spent quite a while on a face panel (the famous Davis' SIVAD) and the lad on the previous shift left me his copy of Robert Tressell's "The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists".

I've still got that battered old paperback - its pages full of probably the only authentic coal from the Granville pit. I've bought a new copy to read but that old book still has a place on my bookshelves 30-odd years later.

I thought I hated the Tories and the establishment before I read it - that book taught me just how much....

[John]

I got caught reading a magazine by the Under Manager in Charge, when I was a young apprentice. Wasn't even my magazine!!! Was a copy of Playboy I'd found stashed near the M/G "switch".

He gave me a right earful, rolled it up and wrapped around a lump of coal, then on the belt.

He then told me to report to him after I'd got out the pit and showered. Which I did, but the mongrel was at a staff meeting.

He left me a note to report to my Elec Engineer for the next day when I came to bank.
I marched into the Engineer's office, "what do you want John"? "Dennis Ward left me a note to report to you Mr Adcock, he caught me reading on 51's the other day".

Lol burst out laughing, "Oh it was you was it"?
"Don't let him catch you reading again, you know what he's like, now gerrout of 'ere" ;D ;D