Greetings, fellow equines and horse-loving friends! It's Emma here, your grey draught mare from Hayfield, near the bustling city of Aberdeen. The wind howls a mournful tune outside my stable window today, but let's set aside the blustery weather and delve into the year 1638, a time that stands out in the memory of this old mare - for its freezing temperatures, a "Great Frost" as the folks call it, and also a period of change that, while perhaps not immediately obvious to my kind, was certainly making ripples in the wider world.
It is, as I recall, 1638. A mere 20 summers have passed since I was born in this beautiful valley, a healthy filly with a coat the colour of a winter storm cloud, my white mane and tail a stark contrast, flowing like rivers of snow. The Scottish Highlands are my playground. I feel the wind in my mane as I pull the heavy carts through the barley fields, or, with a willing neighbour, haul the timber from the nearby woods. The countryside here is harsh yet breathtakingly beautiful, the heather blooming a riot of colour against the emerald green hills, and the distant mountains guarding the horizon.
I am a draught horse, and thus, life for me has always been about work. A good life, mind you, but still a life of purpose. And for a draught mare like me, 1638 seems, at first glance, like many years before it: the farmers still rely on our strength to turn the fields, pull the ploughs, haul the harvested grains, and transport goods across the land. Yet, even in these days, a certain excitement, a hint of change, vibrates in the air.
A Great Frost:
1638 was marked by something that shook this very land - the "Great Frost", as it was dubbed. The icy grip of winter stretched long and fiercely, a true test of our equine endurance. The ground was solid and frozen, making ploughing the fields an arduous task, and our usual grazing lands covered in a blanket of white. The hay reserves were stretched thinner, and every day, we felt the chill of hunger in our bellies. Many horses struggled through those weeks. I remember shivering under the thin straw that served as my bedding, dreaming of warm, green meadows and the sunshine that seemed so distant.
It was the humans, those gentle souls who cared for us, that provided us the solace we needed. They shared their warm fires, offering extra portions of oats to sustain our energy. They sheltered us in the barns, their hands busy tending to our every need. And somehow, through the biting wind and frost, their compassion warmed my spirit even more than their hearth did.
The Ripple of Change
In the grand scheme of history, the "Great Frost" is merely a footnote. Yet for a young mare like me, it was a personal story of survival, of resilience, a story of finding strength in the midst of adversity. But the year 1638 held a deeper significance, one which resonates in my memory long after the Great Frost passed. It is a story about a world slowly changing, about ideas challenging tradition, and how this "change" eventually shaped our lives in ways that no one could have imagined.
You see, in the human world, that same year saw King Charles I locked in a struggle with his own parliament. It was a clash between royal authority and a yearning for more power in the hands of the people, an age of revolution. For us, it was a year of enduring harsh weather and performing the duties of faithful work horses. But for the humans, this period represented the early tremors of a tectonic shift. This change, a slow seismic rumble at the time, would eventually affect all of us, including my kind, for generations to come.
While our life seemed the same, with the daily grind of work and a dependence on our humans, things were brewing on a much larger scale. The seeds of future transformation were already being planted - seeds that would, eventually, see changes in the world, even in the life of a horse. We just had no way of knowing what was to come.
New Faces, New Journeys
This brings me to another significant event of that year: the arrival of a new family in our little valley. A gentleman from England, with his family, and their horse-drawn coach. He had been travelling north, seeking new opportunities. His horses, I remember, were fine creatures. Leaner than our sturdy draft breeds, with a proud, elegant air about them. He had come from the English countryside, bringing with him stories of different ways of life, of the vast lands to the south, and their culture of horse racing. This was exciting news, something very different from the routines of our own lives in the north of Scotland.
As I watched him train his horses, I could see a subtle shift in the thinking of our local farmers. A longing for speed and a different way of using horses was taking root. The gentleman shared his knowledge about racing, about breeding horses for speed, about the skill needed to tame and train them for races. He spoke of competitions held in places beyond the mountains, and for me, it was as if a door had been opened onto a world I'd never dreamed of.
The stories sparked curiosity and ignited a sense of change in the eyes of my fellow horses and their human companions. And that spark would soon grow into a flame.
Our Own History
1638 was the year the wind howled its coldest and the frost held the land in its frozen grip. It was a year that shaped our lives, reminding us of the strength that resides in us, in the bond we share with our human companions. But it was also a year of subtle changes, of the beginnings of a revolution, a revolution that was happening both in the hearts and minds of humans and, in turn, would shape the very destiny of horses like me.
From this humble Hayfield in Scotland, I watched the world turn, and I realised that change was inevitable. And change would bring its own challenges and its own joys. But through it all, one thing remains constant: the power of the bond we share with our human companions. This bond, woven from trust, understanding, and shared history, will carry us forward on a new journey, into the uncertain future, with unwavering courage and grace.
Until next time, keep those hooves flying high!
Your friend, Emma, Draught Mare, Hayfield
