Greetings, dear fellow equines and equine enthusiasts!
Emma here, a spirited grey mare with a penchant for good grass and even better stories. Today, I’m bringing you a little glimpse into life as a draught horse in the year of our Lord 1736. It’s been quite a journey so far, and I've learned a great deal about the world of horses, both here in my beloved Hayfield near Aberdeen, and beyond!
Let's get right to it, shall we?
This year began much like any other: sunrise over the heather, the gentle nudge of the stable boy as he brings the oats, the familiar clack of my hooves against the cobbles as we head to the fields. My life, you see, revolves around the rhythms of the land. I'm a working horse, and my work, as a powerful draught horse, is all about supporting the humans. It's not a glamorous life, but it's a life I cherish.
You know, there's something truly magical about the bond between humans and horses. They trust us with their burdens, their hopes, their dreams. I see the pride in the farmer's face as his crops flourish, the contentment in the children's eyes as they ride bareback on our backs. I carry the weight of their world, and in return, they treat us with respect and affection.
This year, the weather's been a bit unpredictable - some brilliant sun and blossoming heather, but then there are the days where the wind whips through the Highlands, bringing with it rain and cold that can bite right through my thick coat. That's when we need to huddle together in the stables, sharing our warmth and a bit of gossip about the village.
Talking of gossip, 1736 has brought with it news that travels beyond our little corner of Scotland. You see, our world is one of trade and travel, and I've heard tales from travellers who visit our stable on their way south, tales of the larger world, the big cities, and even tales from across the seas!
There’s this talk about an interesting trend spreading throughout Europe: the emergence of what they call "gentleman's horses." These horses, mostly sleek Thoroughbreds, aren't working horses like us; they’re meant for speed and elegance. Their owners are, apparently, wealthy men who race them for sport. They ride in stylish attire and gamble, their pockets overflowing with coins, the talk of all the betting shops. Now, I may be a draught horse, built for strength, but I confess I find the tales of those Thoroughbreds quite exciting. It's not that I'm jealous - a draught horse knows their worth! - but a part of me envies the thrills they experience, the races they run, and the excitement they generate.
And then there’s this… thing called "breading," that has our stallions all abuzz. You see, there’s a growing understanding among humans about bloodlines and genetics, especially in the world of horses. Now, this practice of "breeding" involves carefully selecting and pairing up certain horses with the aim of creating strong, capable offspring, for work and for racing. There's even a man who travels throughout Scotland - some call him a “horse expert,” but I’ve never seen him, but he sounds impressive – and this expert records all the pedigrees and information about each horse, ensuring the highest quality bloodlines are preserved.
I hear some folks say that this new attention to breeding will create horses of greater strength and agility. Maybe one day I'll get to see these new breeds with my own eyes. Perhaps it will be our grandchildren that benefit from this attention.
Life as a working horse can be tiring, yes, but it's also filled with moments of pure joy. The smell of freshly cut hay, the gentle patter of rain on the roof of the stable, the warmth of the sun on my back – these are things I cherish. There’s nothing quite like the camaraderie of fellow horses, too!
Just yesterday, I met a mare from a nearby farm named Margaret. She is a fine Clydesdale, much like myself. She tells me about her life hauling wagons filled with timber, and the amazing journey they make across the rugged Scottish countryside. Margaret and I spend hours gossiping in the pasture, sharing stories of the people we work for and our experiences in the fields. We find solace in each other's company and I know I can always count on Margaret for a bit of encouragement, and to lend a hoof, should I ever need it.
1736 may not be a particularly earth-shattering year, but for us horses, life continues much as it always has. We toil in the fields, we carry heavy burdens, and we are a vital part of the human community. We are a symbol of strength, power, and resilience, and for this, I am proud. As we navigate through the trials and joys of our equine lives, may we all find joy in the journey, and let our hooves leave a strong and enduring mark on the world!
Until next time, dear friends!
Emma
