Hello dear readers! I'm Emma, a twenty-year-old grey draught mare with a snowy white mane and tail, and I'm delighted to share with you the adventures and wonders of the horse world in this glorious year of 1774. My hooves are firmly planted in the fertile pastures of Hayfield, nestled near Aberdeen in bonnie Scotland. Here, amongst rolling green hills and clear blue skies, I have spent a lifetime watching the world turn, and, oh my, has it ever changed!
From the fields of barley and oats, to the bustling streets of Aberdeen, the world feels like it's galloping forward. Yet, the scent of peat smoke, the calls of the curlews, and the gentle clinking of bridles and harness, are still as comforting and familiar as they were when I was a foal, nibbling my mother's mane.
It’s true what they say, time flies when you’re having fun! I've been working steadily since I was just a year old. Those early days involved pulling a light cart through the local village, hauling groceries for the baker, and taking Mrs. McPherson's laundry to the wash house by the river. It was tough work for a youngster, but those early journeys fostered my strong will and love of pulling. My muscles grew strong, and my stride, I believe, became a thing of beauty.
By the age of six, my strength and size meant I was pulling the farmer's larger cart, carrying bales of hay, grain sacks, and all sorts of other goods, including lumber from the nearby forest. It’s a great honour to be a part of a hardworking, close-knit community. And a joy, even on those muddy days, to know my efforts contribute to the comfort of our townspeople.
The pace of things in Hayfield hasn’t shifted dramatically over the last two decades. Yet, this year I’ve noticed a whisper of change, a rumble in the air. Something seems to be happening… just on the edge of our familiar lives.
For example, news arrived this week from London, a town much farther south, carried by a dapper young man who rode all the way from the capital, arriving breathlessly on a shiny chestnut mare. His stories were of new machines! Ones that chug and clank, and propel themselves over tracks of metal and wood, dragging wagons with an impossible amount of cargo. The horses are no longer needed, he said. It's as though the world itself has grown impatient and demands speed.
My heart sank. My blood runs cold at the thought of a world without the comforting weight of a cart, the tug of a harness, the bond of trust and reliance with my human companions. Can you imagine, dear readers, a life without the rhythm of hooves, the scent of hay, the warmth of companionship? It doesn't seem right!
The young man’s news arrived with a whisper of a revolution! It appears there are debates happening in the colonies across the seas, regarding taxes and freedom. Many people in Hayfield are bewildered, some fearful, some even optimistic, but all intrigued. It’s amazing what gossip can travel across oceans, though the only seas I've known are the waves of the North Sea, crashing on the sandy shores close to our farm.
Even though there's change on the horizon, life here continues in the same beautiful way. I love the feel of the spring wind in my mane as I carry a farmer’s young daughter, Eliza, in her carriage to see her granny, who lives on a farm five miles away.
The world may be rushing forward, but I try to appreciate every sunrise and every gallop in the fields with Eliza, with her sunny laughter filling the air, her joy making the long ride all the sweeter. It's a privilege to witness her innocent wonder. This year she told me the story of Pegasus, the winged horse from Greek mythology! Imagine, readers! Can you believe it? Horses with wings? I'm certain we wouldn't be needing iron steeds or steam engines if we could soar through the air!
On days when the sun shines warm on my coat and Eliza’s tiny hands cling tight to my neck, my world is as bright as the meadow flowers and as fresh as the dew in the morning air.
However, I cannot escape the nagging sense that our familiar ways are changing. Maybe the world doesn't have space for horses pulling ploughs or carts. The young man on his shiny chestnut said we are already being replaced. Is it really just a whisper of change, or a storm coming to shake our world? Only time will tell, I suppose. But, whatever tomorrow holds, I will stand my ground, strong and brave.
You know, readers, every day brings new experiences and stories, some happy, some more difficult, but every one precious, for it paints another brushstroke onto the canvas of my life. As a wise old grey mare, I’ve seen my fair share of sunsets and sunrises. Each new year is a challenge and an adventure. I shall try to continue sharing my thoughts with you, my EquiWorld friends, throughout these exciting times. It’s always a comfort to connect with those who understand our heartbeats and the magic of the horse world.
Until next time,
Emma, The Hayfield Mare
