This was years ago and the trainee engineer was closely watching the manager of Waratah Colliery earnestly consulting his hostler about the condition of the pit's invaluable mine horses, often referred to as "pit ponies" despite them usually being big workhorses, not small animals for children.

As he watched the duo weighing up whether or not to call in a vet, the manager picked up several dried clumps of horse manure before breaking them open and sniffing the clods before making a decision.

At this health check, Shoebridge later said he was having serious doubts about what his future managerial role would involve.

It was a story of bygone days that the late John Shoebridge, who went on to become a mine manager and then a Lower Hunter coal historian and writer, would tell frequently with good humour.

Shoebridge (1933-2019) went on to work in nine collieries before becoming superintendent of Newcastle Mines Rescue Station at Argenton.

But he never forgot the scores of "pit ponies" he came in contact with during his working life. It was, in fact, probably a bit of a love-hate relationship.

The various Hunter pits needed the big horses to haul coal skips, lug power cables and pit props, but they weren't pets and unlike the human miners, who went on annual holidays, the horses needed constant attention to work efficiently.

And it wasn't always easy, especially after one big bruiser of a draught horse deliberately leaned on him, damaging several of his ribs in the process. Few pit horses were by nature vicious, but some harboured grudges if they had earlier been mistreated by a coal skip "wheeler", or a miner.

Shoebridge entered the coal industry in 1953, just as the last pit horses were hauling coal wagons. He did, however, have a lot of involvement with horses on snigging duties (dragging supplies from the rail track to the coal face).

But coalmining that way, in older underground Hunter mines about 60 years ago, was also a brutal era. John "Tiger" Shoebridge had no regrets when the period ended.

There were fatal accidents, like roof falls, plus tunnel flooding and fires. And on occasions, horses showed they had a memory of mistreatment by some handlers.

According to Shoebridge, "many a [coal skip] wheeler was kicked, bitten or stood on".

Luckily for us, this later mining historian kept a close eye on life in the mines and, in retirement, wrote and lectured about his recollections.

And in what is probably his penultimate literary effort, the late mine manager has written of pit horses in this month's issue of the specialist magazine Light Railways.

The posthumously published article about a way of life now rapidly fading from memory even on the NSW northern coalfields was compiled with the help of various people, including Hunter mining writer Ed Tonks.

Entitled, 'Of Boxer and Bruiser. . . Tiger and Trooper. Horse haulage in coal mines, the animals, men and vehicles' , the story is Shoebridge's fascinating, rare first-person read of those dying days of Hunter industrial history.

And rather than publish the memories as a two-parter, the August issue of Light Railways devotes almost 14 pages as a tribute to Shoebridge's subject.

Within the pages, the reader learns many things about that much earlier horse-dominated epoch. For example, NSW Railways once used horses to move coal hoppers around The Dyke hydraulic ship-loading cranes servicing both windjammers and steamers in 19th century Newcastle Harbour.

But this ended after February 1924 with mechanisation. That's when the first of two Caterpillar kerosene tractors arrived which eventually replaced a staggering 72 port horses then in use.

Shoebridge writes that horse traction in NSW coal mines lasted for more than 100 years. The first horse was probably introduced locally by the pioneering A.A.Company at its 'D' Pit (at Hamilton) around 1852. The last horse actually engaged in wheeling coal retired from the Upper Hunter Ulan colliery about 1960.

Horses were introduced into Australian pits following the practice overseas. Rather horrifyingly, coal skips were originally hauled underground by women and children in England until it was forbidden by legislation in 1842.

Shoebridge also writes of examining some very old Newcastle pit plans to discover the names of "haulage roads" (tunnels) were "Gallyroads", derived from "Gallaway" the North County (UK) term for a horse. Another adopted English term for horse passages here was "Dilly".

He tells of the major underground fire in the Aberdare Central Colliery in July 1943. A heroic rescue occurred involving 81 horses being blindfolded and led one at a time to the mining cage and eventual safety. Ten equines that could not be subdued perished in the blaze. This area was later sealed off along with their bodies.

Another time, in June 1949, the Aberdare Extended Colliery suddenly flooded. Some 52 horses survived but were trapped in an elevated area.

Their hostlers "volunteered to return, calming and feeding them for several days until the water level dropped and the debris was cleared".

Shoebridge also questions stories about pit horses finding their way out of mines in total darkness. But then he tells the story of a mine workman trapped in a tidal inrush at the Ferndale colliery at Wickham in 1886. His light extinguished, the man managed to escape by holding onto the tail of his horse which then plodded up and out of the black tunnels.

But life was generally tough on these faithful pit horses. At the mine surface, an injured horse might be humanely dispatched by an office revolver and the corpse incinerated on a timber pyre.

Below ground, however, in confined spaces, it was often a far more ghastly business.

As Shoebridge writes in his Light Railways article: "I have long felt it appropriate that some memory be recorded [of the horses], devoid of romance, recounting the manner in which these long-suffering, uncomplaining slaves, lived, toiled and died."

This includes Shoebridge's tale of the unfortunate pony, "Sharpo", the sole survivor of the 1889 Hamilton Pit disaster who was trapped below grounds for 13 days.

Three days after being rescued he died and his skin was stuffed for display around the Newcastle hotels to raise funds for the widows and orphans of the 11 humans who had perished.

During his own time at Bellbird colliery, mine manager Shoebridge had to retire the pit's remaining three horses. He couldn't bring himself to sell them for dog food, so they were donated instead to nearby Pelton colliery.

A few years later after mechanisation at Pelton, its remaining six old horses were left to see out their days in pit paddocks "with mineworkers coming in their own time to attend them".

Shoebridge's magazine article this month is now very timely. People have never forgotten the "pit ponies". That's why there's a life-sized bronze statue today at Collinsville in Queensland, another at Katoomba with a similar memorial planned to be erected soon in Kurri Kurri's main street.