History of Horses in the year 1718

#1718

Hello there, my dear fellow equines! It's Emma here, a grey draught mare from the quaint village of Hayfield near Aberdeen. As I often do, I'm looking back at a particular year in our long, rich, and fascinating history. Today, we travel back to the year 1718! It was a time when the world was on the cusp of change, a time of great advancement and upheaval, a time that, even in the Scottish highlands where I was born, I could sense.

My hooves were already strong that year, having turned 20, and though my grey coat was beginning to show the faintest touch of silver at the edges, I was still strong, sturdy, and able to haul a cart as full as a brimming haggis.

And let me tell you, in 1718, there was no shortage of haggis – or cartloads of produce – to move. Scotland was a land bustling with life, full of spirited individuals like me who had a great love of the land and the power of horses. The year had its fair share of highs and lows, but for a horse, 1718 was mostly about pulling and pushing, about strength and determination.

Even as a horse who led a humble life, pulling carts, churning butter, and even assisting in plowing our fields, I knew that 1718 was a significant year. There was an energy in the air, a sense of new ideas blooming. In my own Hayfield, we celebrated the King’s Birthday (for it was in April 1718 that our King, George the First, was born). We feasted, the air thick with the smell of roast meats, barley broth, and warming cider, and we all took a day to remember our strong, steady King.

Beyond our Hayfield walls, I heard rumours from travellers passing by on their journey south. The year 1718 saw many important things happening in England, which at that time, as you may know, was the ruling power in Scotland. They had their own king, and the news travelled even to the quiet reaches of my Scottish home.

The news most often spoke of the brewing war in Spain. Now, I must confess, it was all very complicated and none of my business! I had my fields to till, my loads to haul, and that is where my concern rested. Yet, I listened as the weary travellers shared tales of the grand fleet sent out by England to the Spanish Main. And these tales also spoke of something new and daring – an ironclad warship called "HMS Iron Duke", a beast with cannons of such immense power, it had shaken the very seas when it sailed!

But the news wasn’t always of grand ships and distant wars. Sometimes, it was news from the royal courts, filled with gossip of new babies and a change of the season!

I’d learned from a passing miller, that King George's youngest daughter, Caroline, had given birth to a handsome prince. He told me the princess’ joy was immeasurable, and everyone in the royal palace was aglow with delight!

So, you see, in that year, even for us horses in humble Hayfield, there was much to learn and experience. And, while the grand world of royalty and war were exciting things to hear about, my favourite news was the gossip about the changes in farming. For, in 1718, the very ground beneath our hooves felt the ripple of change!

This is a fact not often talked about, but even us horses, the strong silent partners in life's work, could see the shift. A new way of working the land was finding its way into our daily lives.

They call it the "Enclosure Movement," and its effects were a cause of whispered debates and fiery arguments. Those old enough to remember the days of common land, of sheep roaming free, were a bit hesitant, and frankly, a touch afraid. For the idea was to change the traditional system where everyone had the right to graze their sheep or gather crops, to one where the land was split into private holdings. The concept felt strange, new, even uncomfortable.

I admit, the news that some fields, the ones closest to our Hayfield, were going to be "enclosed" made me a little nervous. My days involved hauling the heavy carts, carrying seed sacks and bundles of grain, and moving sheep from the fields. To me, the very air seemed thick with worry. How would this change our daily work?

The human whispers I’d overheard did nothing to alleviate my concerns. People were fretting over the new land owners, worried if these private fences would change the rhythm of the seasons. Some whispered of how they would miss the shared ownership and wondered how it would impact the village itself. Would our way of life remain? Would we still be a village, or would we be fractured by these enclosures?

Yet, even amidst these concerns, some saw a positive side. They hoped the new owners would take better care of the land, bring innovation, and increase productivity. It wasn't a completely negative turn of events. New things, they said, can lead to a better future, a future of wider opportunities.

It's an ongoing saga, I know, but for me, a simple horse like myself, the enclosures meant an adjustment in the work. I went from sharing the land, carrying heavy sacks of grain that would feed the whole village, to serving one individual and one family at a time. I had more to do but less to carry, and that’s what truly felt different. It was almost as if, in 1718, I too was part of a larger shift, a bigger story unfolding around me, and all I could do was wait, pull, and be.

And while I carried on my own small journey within Hayfield, the news of the world outside kept coming through. Those travellers brought whispers of happenings in London, Paris, even faraway India, adding another layer to the ever-shifting tapestry of life.

As the year 1718 drew to a close, the story I carried with me, even on my heaviest hauling journeys, was a story of changes: changes in the royal families, changes in how people saw land ownership, changes in the methods of war. The world seemed in motion, each event adding a stroke of paint to the picture of the times.

And even if those events weren't fully comprehended, even if all I could truly grasp was the changing weight on my back and the growing load in the carts, 1718 gave me an understanding. I knew that this world, even though my life was simple, even though I could not truly understand its machinations, this world was moving forward, full of surprises, of ups and downs, and it would all eventually affect the little grey mare named Emma from Hayfield, even if it felt a long way off.

And so, I return to my daily work, knowing that in 1718, I was a part of something bigger. The world had already taken its first steps into the 18th century, and with each hoofbeat and each haul, we, the horses, took our steps forward too, carrying burdens, whispering news, and playing our vital part in shaping a changing world.

See you all next time,

Emma
Hayfield, Aberdeen