By Emma, 20-year-old Grey Draught Mare
My dearest fellow equines,
It's Emma here, back again with another glimpse into horse history! I've just turned twenty this year, and as I stand in the warm Hayfield sunshine, my white mane and tail catching the golden rays, I feel a profound sense of gratitude for life as a working horse. This year, 1709, feels very special, brimming with the gentle rhythm of everyday tasks and exciting new ventures for my kind.
You see, here in the fertile farmlands near Aberdeen, Scotland, the world is all about hard work and unwavering dedication. Every sunrise heralds a new day filled with the satisfying tug of the plough, the rhythm of hooves on cobbled streets, and the constant hum of human activity. We're vital cogs in the machine of life, our strength and endurance driving a world in perpetual motion.
But 1709 has a certain zing to it, a sense of something new bubbling beneath the surface. A whisper of change drifts through the wind, promising something exciting and unpredictable. While my old man, the black Shire called Toby, grumbles about "the young'uns being restless," I feel a glimmer of anticipation.
Perhaps it's the talk of a new breed, the "Thoroughbred," from across the water in England. Apparently, these horses are sleek and agile, a stark contrast to our hefty, dependable draught forms. They race! Can you imagine, galloping at such speed? It's thrilling to think about, even if I can't quite grasp the concept.
As I trot through the fields, I can hear the distant rumble of wheels. This year marks the beginning of an era of expansion for carriage travel. Imagine, gliding along the roads in an elegant coach, pulling tourists and nobles alike. While I happily haul heavy carts of produce, I must admit, the thought of a luxurious life on the road has a certain allure.
The most recent news circulating among my stablemates is of the Duke of Hamilton. They say he's experimenting with new techniques for breaking and training horses. Apparently, it involves gentler methods and more positive reinforcement than the traditional methods of whips and force. Toby shakes his head at such “modern” ideas, but I admit, I find the notion intriguing.
Then there's the matter of the "new world." We're hearing tales of daring expeditions across the Atlantic, with horses leading the charge into unknown territories. Though it seems terrifying, there's an air of romance surrounding these tales. I wouldn't mind galloping across a vast prairie, exploring the wilds with the wind in my mane.
Life in Hayfield moves at a slower pace, but 1709 has a distinct sense of change. The world is opening up, and we horses, with our tireless strength and unyielding loyalty, are at the heart of it all. We pull the carts, plough the fields, transport goods, and, even more importantly, we bond with humans. They depend on us, just as we depend on them for food and shelter.
And within that dependence lies a beautiful understanding, a bond woven through generations of companionship and shared responsibility. As I munch on the fresh clover and listen to Toby grumble about the weather, I feel a deep sense of contentment. The world, in all its chaotic beauty, needs us, and that knowledge fills my heart with a quiet, unwavering joy.
Stay tuned, dear fellow equines, for more updates on the happenings in the world of horses.
Until next time,
Emma, Hayfield
