The Clydesdale is a breed of draft horse (or draught horse in the UK and Commonwealth) named for and derived from the farm horses of Scotland’s County of Clydesdale.

Originally the Clydesdale was a compact draft horse smaller than the Shire, Percheron, and Belgian. In the 1940s, they were selectively bred to produce taller, more impressive parade and show horses.

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Characteristics

• Today, the Clydesdale stands 16 to 18 hands (64 to 72 inches, 163 to 183 cm) high and weighs 1,800 to 2,000 pounds (820 to 910 kg).
• Usually, bay in color with white on face and legs. Black, gray, chestnut or a roaning pattern may also occur. Occasional body spotting on the lower belly.
• Extensive feathering (long hair) on lower legs.
• Straight or slightly convex facial profile.
• Strong with an energetic personality.

Rise and Fall in Popularity 

• The breed was developed from Flemish stallions imported to Scotland and crossed with local mares. The first recorded use of the name Clydesdale was in 1826 at a Glasgow exhibition.
• Between 1884 and 1945, export certificates were issued for over 20,000 horses heading to other parts of the British Empire, North and South America, continental Europe, and Russia. Clydesdales became known as “the breed that built Australia.”
• During World War I, their numbers declined due to the conscription of thousands of horses for the war effort. Their decline continued with farm mechanization.
• In 2005, the Rare Breeds Survival Trust moved the Clydesdale to “at risk” status. In 2010, the estimate was 5,000 Clydesdales worldwide (4,000 in the US and Canada, 800 in the UK).

How Beer helped (and continues to help) save the Clydesdale

On April 7, 1933, the Budweiser Clydesdales were first introduced to the public during a repeal of Prohibition celebration.

August Busch, Jr. presented the horses as a gift to his father who was lured outside their St. Louis brewery when told his son had purchased him a new car. Instead, he found a team of Clydesdales hitched to a red, white and gold beer wagon. Carrying the first case of post-Prohibition beer, they made a special journey down Pestalozzi Street.

Recognizing the advertising and promotional potential of a horse-drawn beer wagon, Busch, Sr. sent the team by rail to New York City, where it picked up two cases of Budweiser beer (at New Jersey’s Newark Airport) and presented it to Al Smith (former governor of New York and an instrumental force in the repeal of Prohibition).

From there, the Clydesdales toured New England and the Mid-Atlantic States. They even delivered a case of beer to President Roosevelt at the White House.

From 1954 to 2011, Budweiser Clydesdales pulled the City of St. Louis’ float in the Tournament of Roses Parade. In 2014, they returned to the parade pulling the beer wagon. Beginning in 1986, their inclusion in television advertising became a longstanding Super Bowl tradition.

Eight horses are driven in a hitch, but ten are on each team to provide alternates when needed.

Today, the Anheuser-Busch Brewing Company owns around 250 Clydesdales in the US, one of the largest herds of Clydesdales in the world.

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The Clydesdale in My Story

More often than not my stories include a horse and not just any horse. Their breed, color, disposition, and names are shaped by the people in the story and the setting. No two horses are the same. Or maybe they are if you’ve read Rescuing Raven.

In my Christmas story, Robyn: a Christmas Bride, my hero (Max Peregrine), and his family (brother Jack and grandpa Gus) run a freight hauling business in Colorado in the 1870s. I figured they’d use mules or draft horses. The mules appeared in Jack’s story, The Calling Birds. So for Robyn: a Christmas Bride I was keen to include a special draft horse—and Caradoc (aka the Clyde) suddenly appeared.

Robyn: a Christmas Bride – Excerpt

Setup: Trouser-wearing tomboy Robyn Llewellyn has donned new apparel and ridden from Denver (where she and her 3 brothers work as wagon drivers for Max Peregrine) to the mountain high mining town of Noelle. She’s made the journey on Max’s Clydesdale—a horse she’s named Caradoc, a Welsh name with a special meaning…but I’ll save that for another blog 🙂 

Dresses were menaces. The dratted skirt caught on the saddle and nearly upended Robyn as she dismounted from Caradoc. She landed with a curse and a flurry of fabric. The usually unrufflable Clydesdale snorted, sharing her surprise. Her Noelle endeavor suddenly loomed a thousand times larger than her usual jaunts in Denver hauling Peregrine freight. 


She’d never regret taking the old road to Noelle rather than the train. She’d always wanted to experience the iconic trail that Max had hauled freight up and down so many times in the past.


But perhaps she should’ve waited to don her new attire until after arriving in Noelle. Her eagerness to begin her transformation as soon as possible might not have been wise. 


She’d misjudged a dress’ unique challenges. Wearing a skirt was hard work. Why did women consent to do it? 


In trousers, she could’ve sprung from Caradoc’s back in one smooth leap. No frustration. No fuss. No flash of petticoats, like a flag announcing her arrival. Her unladylike dismount brought stares, whistles, and even catcalls from the men on the street between the train depot and Noelle’s Peregrines’ Post and Freight office. 


Her expletive about foul-smelling goats shocked them into silence. Not very ladylike either but effective. Would apologizing for her lack of grace been the correct response? 


She’d have to ask Noelle’s married ladies. 


Giving the men a final glare, she spun on her heel to tie Caradoc’s reins to Peregrines’ hitching rail. 


Before she could, the office door opened and Birdie stepped out and enveloped her in a hug. “Voilà, you’re here! And how delighted we are to finally see you in Noelle.”


Trying not to squirm like a gangly gosling under a mother’s wing, Robyn patted Birdie’s shoulder. Coming from a family of brothers who seldom hugged, she often wondered how Birdie—who’d grown up with brothers whose dishonorable deeds had forced her to assume a false name and live a life of hiding until she came to Noelle—had become so open with her emotions. 


When a man who resembled Max—except with wilder hair, a blonder beard, and lighter eyes—appeared, she understood. Birdie released Robyn and stepped into the circle of her husband’s arm. She flew to him like a bird to a nest. 


Love had changed her.


It had changed Robyn as well, but only her heart. Noelle and its women were her best hope for changing all of her. Then she might win her own love.


Have you ridden in a horse-drawn wagon?

Was it pulled by a single horse or a team of 2 or even 8? Would you take the reins if they were offered to you? My family had horses on the farm where I grew up, but they were always riding horses.

So when I was twenty-something, I signed up for an afternoon class to learn to drive a draft horse wagon. I love it, but all I remember is that saying Gee told the horses to go right while Haw told them to go left. I definitely need a refresher course 🙂

I’d love to hear your stories or thoughts about draft horses. Hope you’ll leave a comment below.