Hello dear readers,
I'm Emma, a grey draught horse with a white mane and tail, born in Hayfield, a quaint village just outside Aberdeen, Scotland. The year is 1726, and the crisp air carries the scent of heather and sea salt, a familiar mix that always brings a feeling of home. As a young mare, I find myself increasingly fascinated by the world outside our little village.
I suppose it's natural for a horse to be curious, especially when the world is still a place of such adventure. Even though my days are largely defined by the rhythmic thud of hooves against the cobblestone streets, pulling carts laden with supplies for the local merchants, or tending to the land alongside my fellow draught horses, there’s always something new to discover.
A World of Draught Horses
1726 seems to be a year for draught horses, particularly in my part of the world. Our kind are vital for so much: transportation, farming, even powering the new machines being built by our human companions. The lumbering gait, the powerful build - we are a symbol of strength and work ethic, of the sturdy foundations that support life in this age.
In fact, just this morning, a travelling gentleman visited Hayfield, marveling at our collective strength as we pulled a massive timber load to the port for construction. I even caught his eye for a moment, my mane flowing with each step. The praise of humans is a wonderful thing, even if I am but a mere beast in their eyes.
New Beginnings at the Farm
It hasn't always been easy for my fellow draught horses. A new plague, a particularly nasty strain of sickness that spreads quickly and leaves even the strongest horse gasping for breath, has recently been running through our stables. Several of the older horses, weary from years of hard labour, have succumbed to the illness.
It makes me feel a deep sorrow for the fallen, especially for a gentle old mare called Mary, who always kept her hay to share. I understand how precious life is, how each breath, each step, each year adds up to a unique story. Yet, there is also a beauty to it. Life is cyclical. A young filly, born just last week, is a vibrant reminder that even in sorrow, new beginnings are born.
She is the colour of a stormy sky with a fiery mane that bursts with life, a perfect representation of hope and renewal. Her arrival is cause for celebration within our stable, a testament to the unwavering strength of our kind.
More Than a Working Animal
Despite my busy life pulling carts and hauling hay bales, I also have the honour of carrying our local apothecary's medicines on his visits to the nearby villages. I can feel his gratitude in his gentle touch as he mounts me, his quiet voice reassuring as he urges me forward.
I take particular delight in witnessing the awe on the faces of the young children, especially those who rarely encounter a horse. They watch with wonder as I deliver his healing remedies. The admiration in their eyes makes me proud to be a horse, a bearer of both sustenance and healing, a symbol of strength and devotion.
Beyond the Scottish Borders
Even though life in Hayfield feels fairly stable, the world of horses extends beyond our borders. The whispers from travelling merchants speak of the racing steeds in England, whose speed and grace draw crowds from far and wide. It’s an entirely different world than our slow, laborious work, but the thrill and the dedication to craft shine through their stories.
Stories abound of horses being trained to perform complex tasks - even in the army, pulling cannons or delivering important messages. While some find such work dangerous, it reminds me that our kind are far from just beasts of burden, capable of bravery and loyalty.
New Horizons
There is a quiet excitement bubbling in Hayfield, even amongst the usual routines. Rumours have been swirling of a new breed of horse emerging from the plains of America. These horses, taller and sleeker than our own, are said to be able to move with incredible speed and stamina.
Some in the village are sceptical, calling them ‘wild horses’. But even those of us closest to the earth, to the rhythm of nature, understand the constant potential for change and improvement. The very act of our evolution over generations testifies to that, a story of adaptation and growth we’ve been carrying with our every step.
The stories coming from abroad are only further fuelling our sense of adventure. My heart skips a beat just thinking about what else is out there. Perhaps someday, I too will be a part of a grand journey, perhaps crossing oceans, carrying burdens heavier than those in Hayfield.
Looking Ahead
1726, while filled with daily toil and a touch of heartache, feels hopeful, a year in the life of a horse where the future looks bright. The spirit of discovery continues to draw us forward, both through our own growth and through the changes sweeping across the world. And so, I end this entry with a sense of purpose, of knowing that the world is waiting to be explored, and we, the noble horses, are at the heart of it.
Until next time, dear readers!
Emma
P.S. I hope to soon bring you more news on those “American horses”. There seems to be an air of mystery and wonder about them that’s almost impossible to resist. It makes me wonder: is this a new beginning for our kind, a chapter to be written into the annals of horse history?
