A Grey Mare's Tale, #1826
Well, hello there, my fellow equines! Emma here, a 20-year-old grey draught mare with a mane and tail like spun moonlight, writing to you from the beautiful rolling fields of Hayfield, near Aberdeen in Scotland.
It’s a lovely day here. The wind’s whispering through the heather, and the sun is warm on my coat. You know, sometimes it feels like time just stands still in these pastures, but even a sturdy grey mare like myself knows the world keeps turning. And with that turning, comes stories.
And today, I want to tell you a story about 1826, a year full of change and new beginnings. Oh, the memories… it feels like a lifetime ago, yet I can almost feel the warmth of the sun on my back as I pulled the cart through the busy streets of Aberdeen.
It was 1826 when a new horse market opened its doors in Aberdeen, just outside the old town walls. A bustling affair it was, too, with rows upon rows of horses, their snorts and whinnies blending with the chatter of merchants and the shouts of vendors. The air hung thick with the scent of straw and sweat, and it was there, amidst the jostling crowd, that I found myself for the first time.
You see, I wasn’t born in a bustling market. I was born on a small farm near Hayfield, the eldest of four foals. My life was one of routine: rise with the sun, graze, pull the plough, graze some more, and rest beneath the stars. Life wasn't all glamour, but I had my fill of good food, and plenty of companions in my brothers and sisters.
And yet, every now and again, whispers of the market would drift down from the big city, stories of horses being bought and sold for high prices, travelling far and wide, experiencing the wonders of the world. It stirred within me a small but steady ambition - to see the world, to learn new things, and most importantly, to find a home where my strength would be appreciated.
Well, the day came when my farmer father decided I was too strong and too well-trained to be stuck on his farm. A few sniffles and a tearful farewell, and off I went to the bustling, vibrant world of Aberdeen, pulled by a well-meaning but somewhat clumsy, young mare named Maggie.
My first glimpse of the market sent my heart galloping - an impressive mix of excitement and fear. My instincts told me to run, to find the familiar safety of the farm, but my ambition, a newfound resolve to embrace life beyond the green pastures, held me firm. I was there for a reason, and I wasn’t going to be overwhelmed.
I was in the care of a burly, but kind, old Scotsman named Angus. He led me around the bustling market, the constant clang of metal and the shouting of voices swirling around me, his reassuring hand on my bridle keeping me calm. He told me about different types of horses, from the small and spirited ponies to the majestic Shire horses known for their incredible size and strength.
The variety was overwhelming - there were nimble horses, strong draft horses, sleek racing steeds, and horses from far-off lands, with exotic markings and intricate harnesses. I watched, wide-eyed and bewildered, as buyers inspected every inch of each horse - checking teeth, legs, coats, even temperament!
“A good horse needs to be strong, true,” Angus declared, stroking my broad back, “But a good horse needs to be gentle too. Remember that, Emma.” And as if to emphasise his words, he chuckled softly at a playful tussle between two young colts nearby.
Time seemed to fly by as I was led from stall to stall. Finally, after a grueling day of parades, strutting, and even some nervous neighing on my part, Angus brought me to a stand where a handsome grey gelding, all dappled brown and silver, stood. I recognised him from one of the earlier parades – a lively character with an easy smile and intelligent eyes. His name was Oscar, and he had been purchased for a livery stable in Edinburgh, a city famous for its bustling streets and rich history.
As we stood together, he seemed to notice my quiet nervousness. He nudged me playfully with his head and snorted a soft laugh, “Don’t fret, Emma,” he said. “It’s alright to be nervous. It's your first time, isn't it?" I felt a little calmer with his gentle presence. His confidence was infectious. We shared stories of the farm and life in Hayfield as we waited for our turn to be inspected by the potential buyers.
It turned out we had a shared fate. Our owner, a portly gentleman with a booming laugh, found our temperaments perfectly matched. He believed we would make an exceptional pair, a perfect team, and his choice turned out to be an excellent one!
He transported us, with great care and much excitement, to Edinburgh. I could feel the bustle of the city as soon as the coach rumbled onto the cobblestone streets. It was a dizzying experience. The smell of roasted nuts and brewing coffee, the clanging of horse-drawn carriages, the echoing calls of hawkers, the crowds of people – I felt like a tiny mare amidst a storm. But through it all, I had Oscar, my calm and comforting companion.
He, with his familiarity of the city streets, helped me acclimate to my new life. And so, under the watchful eye of a kind old groom named Archibald, we settled into a life filled with new experiences. We learned the routines of the livery stable, we enjoyed long days spent trotting through the streets, delivering letters and goods, and we even got to participate in a few races! I didn't win any prizes, but just participating felt exhilarating.
Over the months, the bustling streets of Edinburgh became our stomping ground, a place I began to call home. It was a whirlwind of experiences. One moment we would be hauling carts laden with goods for a bustling baker, the next we were trotting with a dapper gentleman in his elegant carriage.
And I began to understand why people said horses like myself were strong and sturdy – we truly had a special bond with the human world.
Even the challenges brought me closer to Oscar. We learned to work as a team, trusting each other completely. He even saved me from getting spooked one day by a passing cart with particularly loud wheels. His calm presence and reassurance calmed my galloping heart and made me realize just how precious our connection was.
That’s just a little glimpse into my 1826 adventures, but don’t you worry – there are many more to share. Every year, I think to myself, this year is going to be calmer, more relaxed, but every year, the world of horses throws me a new challenge, a new opportunity. I guess I’m lucky to be a horse, and to be a part of this grand story!
I’ll be back soon with more stories, my fellow equines, about our journeys through time. Until then, keep those heads held high, keep those hooves trotting, and remember, a little kindness and a whole lot of courage will always take you a long way.
Yours,
Emma, the Grey Mare
