My grandfather, Ed Feick, great Uncle Clayton Shantz, Uncle Earl Feick and my Dad, Don Feick were all champion plowmen, both at the local township & county levels as well as the International Plowing Match. From the time I was old enough to walk I attended the matches too. Farmers left bushel baskets of apples and pears on hay wagons parked on the head lands for all to enjoy. Many older men had bags of Scotch mints, black balls and linseed lozenges in their suit jacket pockets or their overalls to dole out to well behaved kids. I loved the sounds of the match too . . the squeak of the leather; the gees and the haws cried out by the horsemen;  . . .the smell of the horses mixed with the diesel fumes and exhaust from the tractors  . . .and the scent of the hay or straw on the wagons. It was a great time and especially for someone like me with a passion for horses. Ploughing matches were my highlight of the year. I still go whenever I can. I did this drawing from a photo in a very old nation Geographic (perhaps circa late 1940’s or early 1950’s), early in my art career because I had never seen chain harness like this before nor had I seen a single horse hitch unless a plowman was finishing off. I don’t know who the photographer was. Today I only work from my own material – Jenny