From the stable at Hayfield, near Aberdeen, Scotland
Greetings, fellow equines! My name is Emma, and I'm a 20-year-old grey draught mare with a snow-white mane and tail. Some might call me 'old,' but I like to think of myself as 'experienced!' I've lived through my share of changes in the world and, being a draught horse, my work is always demanding but immensely rewarding.
Today, I want to take you back to 1646. It's a year I'll never forget, one filled with excitement, toil, and unexpected changes. The world of horses back then was vastly different from what it is today, and I'd love to share my observations, my hopes, and my fears from that time.
A Day in the Life: Labour, Leisure, and The Art of Survival
My days in 1646 began at sunrise. I awoke in the communal stable at Hayfield, my breath mingling with the scent of straw and hay, along with the snorts and whinnies of my fellow horses. As the sun painted the sky in hues of orange and gold, we were unharnessed and given a quick rub down before heading out for our work.
Most days, I was yoked to a sturdy cart, hauling goods across the rough terrain to the bustling town of Aberdeen. It wasn't an easy life, pulling heavy loads on cobbled streets and sometimes through muddy fields. My powerful legs and wide shoulders were essential, and I never shirked my duty, my strength and determination my only weapon against fatigue.
We weren't mere machines, however. After work, we had time to graze in the green meadows, the cool breeze brushing through my mane as I nibbled on sweet grasses. The other horses would gather in small groups, sharing stories of their day, their adventures, their fears. Sometimes, our masters would join us, their gentle hands combing out our coats and their soft voices soothing our weary souls.
There was a bond, a quiet understanding between horses and their human companions. We learned their gestures, the tilt of their heads, the curve of their lips. And they, in turn, recognised our anxieties, our need for rest, our quiet joys. It was a delicate dance, this co-existence between the world of humans and horses, and I was deeply grateful for it.
The Shifting Sands: Politics, Wars, and Uncertainties
The year 1646 saw England embroiled in the midst of a bloody civil war, a conflict that echoed throughout Scotland. We felt its effects every day. Travel was more perilous, the roads filled with uncertainty and the smell of smoke hanging heavy in the air.
My master, a stout farmer with eyes that mirrored the changing colours of the sky, kept abreast of the news, often sitting by the fire in the evening, recounting tales of battles and triumphs. His brows would furrow, his voice dropping to a worried murmur as he spoke of the unknown future.
I knew little of these human dramas, save for the apprehension etched on my master's face, the hushed whispers that filtered through the stables. We horses, however, were expected to work even harder. The war had disrupted the flow of goods, increasing demand and raising the stakes for every journey we undertook.
The Hopeful Spark: The New King
The news arrived one afternoon, borne on the wind. The English king, Charles I, had been captured, and a new order, a new King, was proclaimed in his stead. The air crackled with a nervous excitement, a strange hope mingling with the unease.
My master, normally a man of stoicism, showed a hint of optimism, his weary eyes regaining a glimmer of light. We were all relieved by this news. We, the horses, who had endured the hardship, the uncertainty, looked forward to the promise of a new era, a more peaceful time.
A Year of Resilience: The Power of the Herd
That, dear friends, was 1646, a year of relentless labour, of societal turmoil, and, in its final moments, a hint of optimism. But through it all, we horses stood steadfast, a symbol of strength and resilience.
Our story isn't one of conquest, of personal triumphs, but of quiet fortitude, of doing our part in the grand tapestry of human life. We are the silent witnesses, the stoic companions, the working muscle that powers a nation. And through the hardship, we found unity, our bond strengthening in the face of adversity, each horse supporting the other, the whole herd pulsating with an indomitable spirit.
It's an honour to share this journey with you, to shed light on a year in history that may have gone unnoticed by the world but lived deeply in the hearts and minds of horses like me.
So, as I settle down in my stall tonight, my body weary but spirit hopeful, I am reminded of the words of an old proverb: "A horse may be strong, but the herd is invincible." It is through unity, strength, and unyielding resolve that we forge our path in this ever-changing world.
Until next time, friends!
Yours,
Emma, the Grey Draught Mare
