Post #1750
Greetings, fellow equines! Emma here, a grey mare from Hayfield near Aberdeen, with a mane and tail as white as the Scottish snow. Today, I’m taking a step back in time, all the way to the year 1750, to share some insights into the world of horses then.
1750 was a year brimming with life for horses. In my quiet corner of Scotland, I toiled on the fields alongside my fellow draught horses, hauling ploughs through rich, brown earth. I could smell the sweet scent of fresh soil mingled with the salty tang of the North Sea air, a symphony of aromas that would be forever etched in my memory.
The Land of Milk and… Hauling
My life was a routine, a steady, rhythmical beat that pulsed with the seasons. In the spring, we planted barley and oats, the seeds clinging to the wet earth. Summer brought endless hours of harvesting, the swish of our tails whipping away pesky flies as we pulled heavy wagons laden with grain. Then came autumn, the leaves a kaleidoscope of reds and golds, mirroring the vibrant colour of the freshly harvested turnips. And winter, well, winter brought the comforting warmth of our stalls and a break from the tireless labour.
We were the heart and soul of Hayfield. The men, strong and gruff, understood our importance, treating us with a rough respect. I was well fed, given the best hay, and treated with a sturdy hand. My days were hard work, yes, but I relished the simple joys of life: the feel of cool water on a hot summer day, the comforting warmth of my stall in winter, the camaraderie of my stable mates.
A World Beyond Hayfield
Although my world revolved around the rhythm of farm life, I knew of a grander world beyond Hayfield. The bustling city of London, the whispered tales of grand carriages pulling the wealthy elite through cobbled streets, the noble war horses of the cavalry – these tales were passed on to us from the travellers and merchants who frequented our humble village.
From those tales, I knew the world held opportunities for horses beyond pulling ploughs and wagons. And for some, a path to a grander purpose beckoned. A friend, a beautiful chestnut mare named Belle, left Hayfield a few years ago, her mane and tail tied with ribbons as she set off on a journey to a royal stud in the south.
The Dawn of Change
It’s 1750, and the world of horses is on the cusp of change. The roar of the Industrial Revolution was barely a whisper, yet its tendrils were already reaching out, altering the way we lived and worked. People began to talk of steam-powered machines, giants that might someday take our jobs.
Yet, there was no sign of worry in Hayfield. My hooves still thumped on the well-worn paths, pulling carts, cultivating land. The scent of manure was a comforting aroma, the clink of metal harness against wood a familiar tune.
A Family’s Love
My world wasn’t just work. I cherished the moments of tenderness with my filly, Lily. She had the same beautiful grey coat as I, her tail and mane just as white. Watching her learn to navigate the world, her clumsy yet determined hooves striking the ground with growing confidence, filled my heart with pride.
Teaching her how to best utilize the harness, how to walk in a straight line, how to respect the reins - these were small but profound lessons. A shared trust bloomed between us, a connection beyond words. She would nuzzle against my side in the stalls, seeking the warmth of her mother. I would bathe her with my tongue, smoothing down her mane, teaching her the rituals that were ingrained in my very being.
My filly, she would grow to be as strong and hardy as the Scottish Highlands. It was my responsibility, my greatest honour, to teach her everything I knew about this beautiful, demanding life as a draught horse.
Riding into the Future
The year 1750, though it seems a world away, feels incredibly close. Though my time has passed, the story of horses continues. And my legacy? It lives on in the fields, in the echoes of hooves on cobblestone streets, in the spirit of every horse that pulls a cart, plows a field, or carries a rider into the sunrise.
The world may be changing, but the bond between man and horse will forever endure. Until next time, dear readers, stay safe, strong, and happy!
Emma
P.S. If any of you out there have tales of horse life in the year 1750 or earlier, I'd love to hear them! Just leave a comment on this post at www.equiworld.org.
