Hello fellow equines and equine enthusiasts! Emma here, your friendly neighbourhood grey draught mare, coming to you live from my cozy stable in Hayfield, just outside the bustling town of Aberdeen in bonnie Scotland. It’s a crisp autumn morning here, the air smelling of peat and the scent of woodsmoke from nearby farms. The golden leaves are starting to fall from the trees, painting the rolling hillsides in fiery colours, a breathtaking scene that always brings a little joy to my equine heart.
But before I get carried away by the beauty of the season, let’s take a journey back in time, to the year 1838, a pivotal year in our equine world, and a year I had the pleasure of experiencing firsthand.
1838 was a year of transition, a year of change, and like most good stories, ours began with the arrival of new ideas. Across the world, advancements in the fields of agriculture and technology were rapidly changing the way humans interacted with their animal companions. And for us horses, this meant more responsibilities and opportunities, even some exciting innovations that forever changed the way we were bred and cared for.
For instance, the year 1838 saw the invention of the “thoroughbred”. While the term might have been floating around for some time, it was this year that it solidified its meaning, leading to the official foundation of the prestigious “Thoroughbred Society”. These sleek, fast, and agile horses were renowned for their athleticism and stamina, and their presence on the racetrack signaled a new era of sporting events for the horse-loving public. I might be a humble draught mare, but even I can appreciate the elegance and speed of those majestic creatures!
However, while the thoroughbreds were carving their own path to fame, we, the trusty draught horses, remained the backbone of industry. Our strong bodies and tireless spirit kept the wheels of commerce turning, helping farmers haul goods, transport people, and pull those sturdy, magnificent coaches that would transport humans through countryside and towns at a pace unheard of before.
You see, 1838 saw a remarkable surge in the use of horse-drawn carriages for personal travel and the expansion of transport systems. Our hooves echoed across the cobbled streets of Edinburgh, London, and Paris, delivering everything from the freshest vegetables from the market to the latest fashions and goods from far-off lands.
And I must admit, 1838 was a year that felt a little bit… glamorous. My human companions, Mr. and Mrs. Stewart, decided to purchase a magnificent new carriage. They called her the “Rose”, and oh, wasn’t she a beauty? Deep crimson red, lined with plush velvet, complete with shining silver accents. To have pulled that carriage through the Scottish countryside was a truly memorable experience. I remember the feeling of the wind whipping through my mane, the smell of fresh air on my face, the joyful chatter of the Stewarts as they took long journeys through picturesque landscapes, returning from their expeditions with smiles and stories for us to hear in the stable.
We horses might not understand human speech, but I can tell you that the atmosphere in a bustling stables was filled with a special energy, a unique sense of companionship and purpose. I felt a special bond with my fellow draught horses, a silent understanding that transcended language, a sense of solidarity in our work and dedication to our humans.
That year, we horses continued to work hard. Whether it was in the fields, transporting goods in bustling cities, or delivering mail to far-off towns, we were an integral part of human life. But within those tough tasks, there were moments of quiet joy, of mutual trust, of gentle human touch and the satisfaction of knowing that our hard work was appreciated.
There was an old blacksmith in our town, Mr. McArthur, who had the kindest eyes and a heart of gold. He would often spend hours cleaning my hooves, whispering softly to me as he worked, telling me about his days, his dreams, and his worries. Sometimes, we horses needed a break from our responsibilities, a moment to unwind. He knew that and always greeted us with a welcoming smile and a bucket of cool water, knowing that it meant the world to us, to be seen and cared for.
Another memorable incident that year was the great Highland Games in Braemar. It was a grand event, a festival celebrating Scottish heritage and strength, filled with exciting contests like the tossing of the caber and the tug-of-war, and of course, the heart-stopping spectacle of the Highland races. Our hooves were used to the rhythm of the fields and the dusty roads, but witnessing the energy and enthusiasm of these competitions was truly exhilarating.
As 1838 came to a close, the smell of peat smoke intensified in the air, reminding us of the changing seasons. The world seemed to settle down for the long winter ahead, a time for reflection and a sense of accomplishment, for I must confess, that year, 1838, felt like a pivotal year in our equine history. We, the horses, continued to adapt, to learn, and to grow with each passing day, leaving an enduring mark on the world with our strength, our loyalty, and our love for our human companions.
From our cozy stables, amidst the rolling hills of Scotland, we eagerly anticipate what the new year will bring, knowing that our hard work, our spirit, and our enduring contribution to the world will remain the heart of the story.
Until next time, fellow equines, stay safe, stay healthy, and remember, each hoofbeat leaves its mark on history, so trot with pride!
