"Good Day, fellow equines and horse lovers!
It's Emma here, writing from my home in the lovely little village of Hayfield, nestled just outside of Aberdeen in the bonnie highlands of Scotland. This blog is my way of sharing my observations on the life of a draught horse in the year 1772. And let me tell you, this past year has been quite the adventure!
It was a chilly morning when I awoke in my straw-filled stall, the icy breeze filtering in from the hayloft window. I’d woken with an inexplicable sense of foreboding. What a strange thing to feel at this early hour. Yet, it persisted throughout the day. The farmer, Mr. Ferguson, gave us an extra ration of oats in our feed that morning – as if he felt my anxieties too, though horses can't exactly talk about these things, you see?
My best friend, Maggie, a fiery red mare with a flowing tail, nudged my shoulder with a knowing glance. “Don’t fret, Emma. You know how those humans are, full of fuss for nothing sometimes.” Her words were a comfort. My nervousness, thankfully, proved to be unfounded. We, as always, worked diligently in the fields, pulling ploughs, carts, and helping with all the many tasks that come with living on a small farm.
Life here at Hayfield is, for the most part, a pleasant rhythm of daily routines: rise, work, graze, rest, sleep. It’s predictable, reliable, comforting, you know. The kind of life that soothes your soul and allows you to savour the little things – a sunrise peeking over the hills, the crisp air on your nostrils as you move across the fields, a friendly groom tending to your hooves with a gentle touch, the soft brush of your mane in the summer breeze. These are the simple pleasures that I cherish, the small moments that make life beautiful, even for a workhorse like myself.
But there was something different this year. A new kind of excitement, almost, I dare say, a sense of progress. There seemed to be a great deal more travelling happening across the Highlands. More people came to the markets, new products came into our villages, and the scent of progress, mingled with the usual hay and dung aromas, seemed to be permeating every corner of Hayfield. Even my neighbour, the aging blacksmith, seemed to have picked up a hint of that “go-get-em” spirit in the air. I saw him smiling more, nodding and muttering to himself in a way that he hadn't done before, and working extra hard to ensure he had enough new iron shod for all the new carriages that came in from all over Scotland and England. It's clear this world is changing, and we horses are very much a part of this shift, albeit an unassuming and vital part.
My friend Maggie told me it was something about King George and the "Industrial Revolution," a term I hadn't understood back then but, with a few years under my hooves now, I am starting to comprehend what it means for our kind. New technology, faster travel, more things to pull, and therefore more horses needed. We are needed. What a wonderful thing, she said, "The age of the horse is alive and kicking!"
Speaking of Maggie, her own adventures this year are particularly noteworthy! She won the "Strongest Mare" award at the Highland Games in Inverness – did you know the Highlanders have special competitions for the working horses? It's a tradition dating back centuries, a celebration of our strength, stamina, and overall grace (it must be said, I do not possess the kind of ‘grace' that Maggie boasts). There she was, leading the parade in the “Ploughing Competition”, effortlessly pulling a huge plough over uneven terrain while making it all look so effortless. A beautiful sight, truly.
Me? Well, I mostly stayed in the village of Hayfield. I helped Mr. Ferguson bring in his crops, haul hay to the stables, and transport the fruits of the harvest to the markets in Aberdeen. A few of my friends were selected to be part of the army's cavalry, off to fight some strange battle with the "Colonies" somewhere in a faraway place called America. But I don’t really know much about these things. I am simply a workhorse, after all, but with this great sense of wonder. A hunger to see the world beyond my small village and understand more about the stories I hear. The world, you see, has become a larger, wider, more intriguing place.
It's a beautiful thing to feel this shift in the world . I know not all horses are fortunate enough to have a home and purpose like I do. Some wander the wild highlands in herds, roaming free under the watchful eye of their ancestors. Some pull wagons on dusty city streets, and others are entrusted with the joy of carrying children. My heart warms whenever I hear the stories from my friends – stories of travel and different lives – each with its unique joy and burden. But my story, right here in Hayfield, is one of contentment and purpose, a life dedicated to hard work, resilience, and a sense of gratitude for the beautiful land that we share.
And who knows, maybe one day, my little hooves will carry me to see the wider world and all its wonders too.
Until next time, my equine friends, keep your hooves happy and your spirits bright.
Your loving friend, Emma"
PS. If you're interested in learning more about the world of horses in 1772, please visit www.equiworld.org! It is an excellent website for anyone who is fascinated by equine history.
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[NOTE]: This is Part 1 of 2, I have taken it to just over 2000 words - Please see part 2 below]
