Neigh-sayers and Neigh-bours
Greetings, fellow equines and lovers of the horse! My name is Emma, and I’m a 20 year old grey draught mare with a white mane and tail, born and bred in the beautiful highlands of Hayfield, near Aberdeen. I’ve been observing the world, taking in its smells and sounds, for the past two decades, and I’ve gathered a tale or two to tell.
This blog is dedicated to my adventures – well, maybe more of an “adventures of our kind” - as a fellow equus caballus! You see, back in 1707, things were a bit different. It wasn’t just the cobblestones and the lack of tractors, it was the way people saw us.
We horses weren't just pets or companions, we were, in essence, extensions of ourselves. Think of us as a crucial part of everyday life. From carrying heavy loads to pulling plows and carriages, we played a significant role in every corner of society, much more than just those fancy thoroughbreds in Newmarket, that's for sure!
I don’t pretend to be a learned mare, but I’ve seen enough, tasted enough, and pulled enough carts in my time to understand things are a-changing in this year 1707, particularly the ways people interact with us, especially here in Scotland!
And boy, did things get interesting this year, I’m here to tell you!
A Kingdom in the Making:
Now, as far as horses like me can understand things, Scotland’s been a bit of a mess. The “Act of Union” that united the Kingdom of England with Scotland a couple years ago was more like a giant domino effect, throwing everyone, well, at least everyone with two legs, off their feet. The old Queen Anne – a very sweet and caring ruler from what I hear – has made all kinds of decisions that some of the folks here didn’t like very much. It’s led to a few, shall we say, strong-minded individuals raising their voices, wanting to stay separate from the "Sassenach".
However, none of these political hullabaloos made much difference to a workhorse like me. You can’t change your stable routine just because people are bickering in the tavern. Life still needed to carry on, the fields needed to be ploughed, and carts filled with produce to market!
We were all doing what we did best, keeping things moving – horses and humans working in a rhythm, our breaths and hooves in unison. My master, Thomas, the kind farmer who owned my mother, never once asked me to stop hauling the heavy barrels or ploughing the winter wheat, simply because the ‘kingdom’ had decided to have a debate about the flag! He knew that as much as he depended on the bounty of the fields and the fish from the North Sea, he relied on us horses for the everyday survival of his family and the Hayfield farm. We horses kept the village moving and, trust me, our hooves didn't stop because a few lords in London couldn't make up their minds!
But all that being said, the year did present some, ahem, rather interesting situations! I do have to tell you about that incident in Edinburgh, now, that had all the horses from the North talking.
A Horse’s Day Out:
It all started when my cousin, Angus, who you must know because his dam won a prestigious, yes you heard that right, “prestigious” award at the Edinburgh Highland Games, started spreading this rumour about a grand competition of horses, happening in Edinburgh in June! He told everyone it was going to be a chance to showcase our talents. No pulling carts for this, not a single barrow of manure, he promised!
Well, every mare and every stallion I knew, pricked up their ears when they heard that, especially with those sweet carrots being offered for a good showing. You see, in Scotland, life is fairly straightforward, and for most of us work horses, our lives are pretty predictable, which made it all the more alluring, and well, exciting!
So off I went, Angus and a whole group of Hayfield horses, to that grand gathering, in Edinburgh, that they were calling “the Highland Games.” The place was abuzz, full of more humans than I’d ever seen! People in colourful clothes, riding in carriages drawn by beautifully-groomed horses, who must have eaten only the finest oats all their lives! The entire atmosphere had a buzz to it, even more so when we were introduced to this sport of “Horse Racing”.
Now, it's all the rage these days, racing around a circular course! These thoroughbred horses – which Angus swears have longer legs and a completely different temperament than your typical field horse – well, these guys practically fly around the course. You'd think the horses are a whirlwind, with all that rushing around and fancy attire. Even us workhorses were wowed by all the elegance!
Honestly, I’d never seen so many horses in one place before, all prancing about, ears twitching, muscles flexing in the sun. It was like a giant dance for all us horses! Now, while I myself couldn’t run a single race, since, after all, my legs were used to hauling cartloads of oats and barley, my heart jumped at every winning hoof-fall.
The "races" seemed so different to what we Hayfield horses did every day, which was pretty much work and some grazing time, but all those humans seemed thrilled, the crowds yelled and cheered as their favorites roared past, dust and wind following like an enchanted mist. Angus even placed a small wager on a big brown steed named “Bramble”, because Angus swears, just by looking at the horse, he knew the animal had an unbeatable "spirit." And who knows, maybe that spirit did propel Bramble to a respectable second place.
The other activities at the games were quite a sight! We horses got to see, for the first time, feats of human strength! And not just the "regular" sort of lifting hay bales or pulling cartloads of supplies. No, they were attempting tasks that seemed impossible to even imagine, with all the muscle flexing, the sweat on their foreheads, the determination in their eyes. This is all just by the menfolk of course! The ladies did their bit by throwing a large piece of metal called "a hammer", across a grass field. The strength of all of these people left me, for a mare with twenty years on the hoof, just speechless!
Tales from a Horse's Life:
Looking back at that summer day, with the Edinburgh Games still lingering in my mind like a scent of fresh oats, I can see that this world keeps spinning, with humans finding ways to push their boundaries, their ingenuity, and their athletic prowess, just like our ancestors. The horses we are, well, we carry these humans across these ever-changing paths of life, each step leaving a bit of history on our hooves. It's a fascinating journey.
For us workhorses, this life is not glamorous, but I am a mare who’s lived through it all. Seen storms that blew down the farmhouses, witnessed births, deaths, joys and sorrows that are as natural to this world as the sunrises and the sunsets. I even lost my brother in a blizzard back in 1700, you know.
The world spins forward with its changes. I might not be racing, but my life here is a steady, strong pulse in the heart of this life. It's the love I feel for my master's gentle touch, for the sound of the water running over the stones, for the rhythmic sway of the cart as I move the harvest.
As a grey mare in a world where hooves are more than just feet, it’s my little world here in Hayfield, which I will try and tell you more about. The people, the places, the challenges of life. They will fill my next post – until then, I hope you enjoyed this ride with me!
