Greetings, fellow equine enthusiasts! Emma here, from the bonnie highlands of Scotland. It's been a while since I've posted, but what with the constant activity around here in Hayfield, life has been a whirlwind. You know, as they say - "Never a dull moment for a working horse!"
The year is 0046. Let's dive into what's been happening in the world of horses this year. And trust me, there's been a lot to report on!
A Scottish Sunrise and The Rhythm of Work:
First and foremost, let me introduce myself again, if you're a new visitor to my little blog! My name is Emma. I'm a proud grey mare, standing tall at seventeen hands, with a white mane and tail like spun sugar, if I do say so myself. I hail from the delightful village of Hayfield, just outside of the grand city of Aberdeen. Our days here are a beautiful mix of gentle countryside and busy work. We are, you see, a hardworking lot - the Clydesdale mares, like myself. We pull carts and plough the fields for farmers who are as sturdy and loyal as we are.
I often find myself gazing up at the dramatic Scottish skies as dawn breaks over the countryside. A blanket of fog would usually blanket the fields, slowly dissipating as the day progresses, and I stand amongst the other mares, anticipating the day’s work ahead. My friend, Lily, a beautiful black and white mare, would whinny a cheerful greeting, and I would answer with a contented snort.
Our work is demanding, but also so rewarding. It's a joy to feel the sturdy weight of the plow against my shoulders as we turn the rich earth in preparation for the next harvest. The earth sings with the soft rustle of grain as it springs up from the earth, a delightful soundtrack to our labour.
Of course, there are times we long for a break from the strenuous work, so the fields would sometimes seem to beckon with a gentle, grassy wave. Our eyes would catch the swaying movement of a field of barley swaying gently in the breeze, reminding us of that sweet green haven waiting just a stone’s throw from our current task.
I’m a big girl, and I’m strong! But after a day pulling heavy plows, nothing beats the blissful feeling of a long graze in a meadow after the workday ends. It’s that moment when I'm finally free from my harness, a bit of a personal heaven! Our farmer, Duncan, is a good man, one who understands a horse’s needs, and never overworks us. Duncan would stand at the stable door at dusk, patting each mare, assuring us that we are valued for our strength, our resilience, our very being. That evening pat from him, accompanied by a reassuring word or two, would settle our tired bodies and minds in anticipation of a long night of sleep.
The Whispers of New Technologies and Changing Winds:
Now, as a mare who is deeply attached to the life of the working horse, it’s hard for me to think of a time when our ways would be changed. I mean, have you ever seen the beauty of a horse ploughing through a field of wheat in the warm glow of a summer sunset? How can it ever be matched by a cold, inanimate machine? The very notion makes my whiskers tremble, a sense of unease creeps over me when I see one of those metal things called ‘tractors’ in nearby fields.
Some say that these machines are here to replace us, the sturdy, strong steeds of the land. I hear murmurs amongst the farmers about "steam-powered engines" and the prospect of "iron horses." Some people claim it is the start of a "new age." These notions are bewildering. Will we be relegated to the side, our strength and dignity relegated to the dusty pages of history books?
Sometimes, the old mares tell me stories of the ancient days when people used chariots and fought on horseback. The tales have long been relegated to the memories of those who knew these old ways, but there are times when I dream about galloping over vast landscapes, free to explore as much as I want. It feels strange to think that the wild, open landscapes that stretch for miles beyond Hayfield might become foreign and unavailable to the horses that live within them.
But as I stand amongst my fellow horses, my worries start to subside. There is a certain joy in being connected to the land in such a visceral, powerful way. There's an unspoken understanding that runs deep between my sisters and I – we stand as the powerful legacy of the wild horses that ran freely centuries ago. Perhaps we’re more than just 'working horses'. Perhaps we’re the very pulse of the land.
The Unbreakable Bonds of Kinship and Trust:
Our farmer, Duncan, isn’t the only one in Hayfield who sees a horse as a friend. We are part of the family, and their lives depend on our hard work. Just a few miles away is a village where people weave our horsehair into sturdy, warm sweaters and caps. They cherish the beauty of our strong, lustrous hair as a source of livelihood. There’s a strong sense of interconnectedness – horses and people, a silent language of mutual reliance and affection. This village provides some of the finest riding tack, saddles, and other equine equipment for people across the region. The leather is treated by special techniques, and their craftsmanship is recognized throughout the land. It’s a sight to behold!
Of course, there are those who do not respect us the way Duncan does. The stories travel across the highlands on the winds; I’ve heard that far away, in the bustling city of London, there is a place where horses are forced to pull heavy coaches day in and day out, without much rest, or proper care. It’s hard to believe that this cruel fate can befall those of us who are capable of such great love and loyalty. It brings tears to my eyes, this thought. The injustice of it all, the lack of understanding. But I cling to the hope that maybe one day, all people will recognize our importance and treat us with the kindness and respect that we deserve.
A Celebration of Spirit: The Horse Racing in the Highlands:
Now, for a lighter moment – let’s talk about horses and something we hold dear: our inherent love for a good race. I mean, who hasn't been swept away by the thrill of a fast, flowing race? It's a timeless spectacle, you see. The pounding hooves, the wind whipping by your ears, the thunder of applause from the cheering crowds - the pure energy of it is truly magnificent. This year has brought a remarkable new spectacle of the horse racing culture: the ‘Highland Dash’. The Highlands, with their vast, rolling hills and wide open expanses are well-suited to this kind of event, providing breathtaking views and a chance to connect with the land. It's exhilarating to see the pure speed and agility of horses showcased like this!
The event features beautiful thoroughbreds - they are a distinct breed of horse known for their sleek musculature, slender limbs and impressive racing spirit. Their powerful strides and quick movements are an amazing sight to behold. Imagine that lightning speed of a stallion sweeping across the finish line! As I listen to the tales, my heart races with excitement. It's just thrilling, you know? I almost wish I had a few of those thrilling sprints in my days!
And there's something beautiful about seeing the crowd come together in the spirit of this race, it's truly unifying. The excitement is infectious, and even we horses, from afar, get swept away in the shared joy. The races also serve as an economic engine for the region - they bring visitors from far and wide to admire our majestic, natural landscapes. These events are vital to our land.
The Strength in Numbers: Our Future Lies in the Heart of Community:
But life for horses goes far beyond just races and our own adventures, dear readers! I have a hunch that even for those who haven’t known a life around horses, we still represent freedom, courage, and grace - the beautiful aspects of a horse’s essence are acknowledged across cultures and time. I hear people talk about 'the horses of the North Sea, the wild horses who gallop through the misty glens and remote mountains... their freedom is a thing of legends, a potent image etched into the very spirit of this land.' They are the epitome of the spirit of wildness, that’s true!
Now, the news travels quickly in our small village – we gather around the village square where farmer Duncan keeps a lookout for travelers coming through. It’s here that the whispers about the ‘New World’, beyond the known seas, reaches us. The tales are often filled with the wild, raw beauty of vast open prairies and plains – the kind of freedom that our ancestors may have known. I hear how our kin, the American horses, were also taken by man, and how they live a free life across vast fields, a sight to behold. The news comes from the traveling merchants – tales of a land abundant with land and promise.
As I ponder this news, my heart stirs with excitement. Maybe, someday, we too will see those boundless lands of the ‘New World’, just like our ancestors, and find a freedom as boundless as their hearts. We horses are the soul of this earth. We carry in our hearts the strength of generations and the resilience to persevere even in the face of new challenges. We are not just the ‘working horses’ of Hayfield – we’re also the beating heart of a long lineage of horses, stretching back to our very beginnings.
So, to those who believe in our worth and our ability to persevere, keep sharing the stories, sharing the stories of our spirit. Spread the word that our stories – stories of horses - will always be with us! Until next time, may your hooves always find good footing, and may your days be filled with the gentle whinny of friendship.
Your fellow horse, Emma.
