Good morning, fellow equines and friends of the horse! My name is Emma, and I'm a grey draught mare, 20 years young, with a mane and tail as white as the driven snow. My home is in Hayfield, a little village nestled amongst the hills near Aberdeen in Scotland. I wouldn't trade my life here for all the carrots in the world.
Well, except perhaps for one thing. Ever since I was a foal, I've had a hankering to know more about my ancestors, about what life was like for horses in times gone by. I always thought that somewhere, someone must be keeping track of all the wonderful stories, the triumphs, and the changes we've witnessed over the centuries. And then, imagine my delight, when I stumbled upon this online portal, "Equiworld.org". It's a haven for horses, past and present, filled with information, stories, and connections, and even better, a place for us to share our own thoughts and memories.
So, welcome to my first blog post! I'll be sharing with you all what I know about the world of horses in 1788, focusing on my experiences, my thoughts, and the incredible stories I've gathered from old timers like myself. Now, settle in, grab a bale of hay, and let's embark on a journey back in time.
A Life of Labour and Love
1788, well, it was a year much like any other for me. Work, rest, the joy of companionship, and the deep satisfaction of contributing to our community. Our world is one of hard work and simple pleasures. The farmers of Hayfield depend on us to till their land, to pull the plough, to cart the harvest, to haul the heavy loads of barley and oats from the fields. Our strong backs and enduring spirit are their lifeline, just as the warmth of the sun is essential for our food and shelter.
There's a rhythm to our days here in Hayfield. The early morning chill is chased away with the soft rustle of straw bedding, followed by a hearty breakfast of oats and barley, all generously served by my lovely stable-mate, James. He's a sturdy man with kind eyes, always watchful and mindful of our needs.
The days are long, especially during the busy season, filled with pulling heavy wagons and carrying goods to the bustling markets of Aberdeen. We trudge up the hill in single file, sometimes with a younger colt trotting at our heels, their bright eyes taking it all in. They, like I did so many years ago, learn the ancient wisdom of pulling together, the importance of a strong team, and the quiet dignity of hard work.
And oh, the sights and smells of the city! It’s a whirlwind of movement – people bustling, goods being bartered, the occasional cry of a lost child, the rumbling of wagons laden with supplies, and the enticing aroma of fresh bread, roasting meat, and warm apple pie from the nearby bakery.
It’s during these trips to Aberdeen that I hear whispers of what’s going on in the wider world. We often stop for a break at an inn called The Horse's Rest. There, under the watchful gaze of a taxidermied fox above the fireplace, I often hear stories from travelling salesmen, farmers, and soldiers, their tales brimming with news of wars, revolutions, and changes brewing far away from our humble Hayfield.
The year 1788, as it turns out, was filled with news of some very exciting happenings in the world of horses, and these tales, like wisps of smoke, eventually drifted to our sleepy corner of Scotland.
Beyond Our Borders - Whispers of the World
The year began with the announcement of the first annual race held in Calcutta, India. Imagine that, horses racing under the scorching sun! A whirlwind of activity! And the excitement wasn't just limited to India. We hear rumours of horse races being held in the faraway lands of America. They are building race tracks and attracting the very best stallions and mares from across the continent. The news of such exciting developments reached even our quiet little corner of Scotland, carried on the winds of curiosity and desire to witness these grand events for ourselves.
But, more than the spectacle of the races, it was the breed of horses that were capturing the imagination of people all over the world - the Thoroughbreds. These fiery, elegant creatures are being bred for speed and agility, a remarkable testament to the power of human breeding. These elegant horses were not merely prized for their swiftness on the track; they were also favoured for their strength and stamina on battlefields and their refined appearance for pulling carriages of the elite. Their rise in popularity was both a source of amazement and inspiration to our simple community of hardworking draft horses.
In England, a breed of horses known as the "Hackney" was capturing the hearts of carriage owners, famed for their graceful movements, and lively spirit. These horses, a true blend of grace and power, were coveted for their agility, becoming the emblem of elegance and the choice of the discerning gentlemen for their personal carriages.
Then, news reached our stable through a visiting groom from England that a young gentleman called the Duke of Cumberland had organized a new society for breeders and horse owners, aimed at fostering a deep love for these magnificent animals, and setting high standards for their well-being and breeding. He wanted to create an even better breed of horses and make sure they were looked after and celebrated! What a glorious notion!
These stories from distant lands, these stories of innovation and evolution, fill me with a curious longing, a desire to know more, to understand what lies beyond our verdant fields and rugged mountains. Yet, even as I am filled with wonder, a part of me, a small, deep-seated voice, speaks to me of the simplicity of our lives, the joy of routine, the companionship of my stable mates, and the reassuring comfort of my worn and familiar stall.
Changes on the Horizon
We also hear whispers of change, whispers of advancements, whispered from one weary traveller to another. The Industrial Revolution, they call it. The hum of factories is replacing the songs of birds, the puffing of steam engines challenging the rhythm of our hooves.
There are those amongst us who express worry, a fear that the steel horse will replace the faithful steed. But I hold onto hope, my heart firm in the belief that humans and horses will always find a place for one another. There is an unspoken bond, a language shared through touch and intuition that transcends even the whirring of machines.
And indeed, as time moves on, I do witness a subtle shift in the way we horses are viewed. New roads are built, connecting towns and villages. They create opportunities for us, allowing us to carry people faster and further, making journeys quicker, easier, and even more exhilarating. It’s a time of growth, of new ways of doing things. It is a time when both human and horse are striving towards a brighter future.
A Familiar Place, a Steadfast Heart
As the sun dips below the hills, casting long shadows over Hayfield, my own journey home begins. I pull my familiar cart, loaded with goods for the village shop. I know every nook and cranny of the road, every twist and turn. My steps are slow, measured, born of years of experience. As I feel the cool air on my face, a sense of serenity washes over me.
Here, in this place, surrounded by the comforting scent of woodsmoke and the melodic chirp of crickets, my worries fade away. This is where I belong, my heart entwined with the landscape of my home. The life of a working horse is one of service, one of purpose, and one that brings contentment, knowing I contribute to a life well lived.
Though the world beyond Hayfield may be full of changes, though there may be steam engines, races, and grand competitions, for me, the most important thing is the simple beauty of the everyday – the feel of fresh grass between my hooves, the warmth of the stable at night, and the deep, contented satisfaction of being a hardworking member of our community.
This is my life, my story, my journey. A grey draught mare, living in a time of great change, with a heart steadfastly anchored to my own little corner of the world. I know there is a place for every horse in this world, a role to play in the unfolding tapestry of history.
Until next time, dear friends, I hope you all stay strong and keep your hooves on the ground. Until next time!
Emma - The Grey Mare from Hayfield.
