David Hazlett CJF

David Hazlett CJF

David Hazlett is a certified journeyman farrier based in Ellensburg, Wash. He has been shoeing for nearly 50 years.

ARTICLES

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The Way it Was

Bill Miller’s Mustache

The fund-raising auction at the American Farrier’s Association Convention is a highly anticipated event. It always has been a source of what is necessary to fund the many activities and functions of the AFA. I’m always amazed at the varied offerings of donated items, including some of the finest examples of forge work I have seen.
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A Farrier’s Legacy

Passing on your hoof-care knowledge leaves an indelible mark on the industry

It occurred to me a long time ago that no matter how diligent you are in your work, no matter how much energy you put into improving your skills and enlarging your knowledge of the trade, 6 weeks after you put down the last foot with one of your shoes on it, there will no longer be any physical sign of what you did for a career. 


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The Way It Was

Education and Entertainment When Lighting a Forge

The never-ending push for farriers to improve efficiency in their practice
Sometime in the early ’80s, Scott Simpson was running the farrier education program at Walla Walla Community College. I knew him well from taking an individual studies class during the previous winter. I wanted to improve my forging skills and Scott let me sign up for the class, but, having had 8 years in the field at that time, I worked apart from the regular class at the anvil rather than under horses.
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The Way It Was

The Carrot Trick

A horse learns about its farrier's tricks
There are stories that stick with us from our time working. We don’t even have to experience the tales ourselves, as simply hearing them returns us to the setting of the story.
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The Way It Was

First Day of Class

Learning Curve in a Southern Oregon Shoeing School
As I reached out to open the door of the nondescript building, it opened in my face. A man, the spitting image of Hoss Cartwright (think of the TV show Bonanza, for those under 50), down to the 10-gallon hat, fished about a half ounce of chaw from his lower lip, deposited it neatly on the winter-bare ground and said, “Come on in!”
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