Good day, dear readers! It's Emma here, your favourite grey draught mare from the rolling hills of Hayfield, near Aberdeen. This is my very first blog post on the wonderful EquiWorld website and I'm so excited to share my stories about the past! As a mare born in 1839, I've seen a lot in my time, and I feel like 1859 was a particularly special year - a year full of change, new possibilities, and even some worries for the future. So, without further ado, let's saddle up and ride back to this important year.
The Whisper of New Wheels:
Firstly, 1859 saw the rise of what we horses now call the “Iron Horse”, this great metal contraption that travelled on rails, puffing smoke and hauling wagons, some even longer than the grandest carriages! My human, John, told me the “Iron Horse” would even go faster than a fine thoroughbred racing horse! While this did bring excitement about a world with quicker travel, there were also whispers amongst us, especially the old cart horses, about what this would mean for our work. Would these iron things steal our jobs?
The Show Ring and the Working Horse:
But worry aside, the show rings of 1859 were bustling with energy and competition! A grand event in London, called the Royal Agricultural Society of England, became quite the gathering place for all manner of equine wonders! I have to tell you, the elegance of some of those sleek Thoroughbreds and the impressive strength of the Shire horses was breathtaking! They were almost as fine to look at as a crisp autumn morning in the Highlands!
That year in Aberdeen, the Aberdeen Highland and Agricultural Society held their own agricultural show - always a delight to be part of, filled with proud owners, their fine horses, and a parade of gleaming plows!
We also celebrated another milestone. The Royal Veterinary College began training people to care for us better! John, you know, he always had me attend the odd lecture with him about anatomy and harnessing - the good doctor there is an excellent speaker.
Changes on the Farm:
As we raced towards the autumn, my job remained the same: hard work on the farm. We hauled the barley, ploughed the fields for the next harvest, and helped transport supplies for the coming winter. But even in my routine, I sensed a change. Farmers started to talk about new breeds for draught horses. A small grey horse from Belgium, a Percheron, caught everyone’s attention.
“They are big,” my human would say, stroking his beard thoughtfully, “And stronger than the best Clydesdale.”
The Quiet Yearning for Freedom:
That’s one thing I did notice: humans in 1859 became more aware of horses as animals with feelings! We started getting fancier names than “Brownie” or "Old Grey", and there were many beautiful tales about us, mostly written about those grand racehorses with their long, proud legs!
John, though, is the only person who knows how much I wish I could run free like a wild horse. I dream of galloping across the vast meadows of the Highlands, wind whipping through my mane. I often close my eyes in the evening, breathing the fragrant air, and envision my own hooves flying over the ground. The scent of freedom, of open skies, always tugs at my heart. But maybe this wish will have to be for another year, for my duty and love for the farm will never fade.
Final Thoughts:
As I write this final paragraph in my humble stall, looking out at the frost-touched grass, I realize that 1859 was a year that was filled with contradictions - new discoveries alongside a sense of anxiety for us, hard work alongside the growing understanding of our importance and beauty. But whatever the future holds, I hope it’s one filled with continued hard work, laughter in the barns, and the soft glow of twilight across Hayfield!
Until next time, keep your noses to the wind and your hearts open to adventure!
Emma
( PS Don’t forget to check out www.equiworld.org and share your own stories!)
