Blog Post Number 1928
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Hello, my dear readers! Emma here, a proud grey draught horse from Hayfield near Aberdeen. It’s a fine spring morning, and the air is filled with the scent of new growth and the promise of long summer days. As I graze in the pasture, watching the sheep graze nearby, I can't help but feel a sense of contentment. Life here in Hayfield is good, peaceful, and as a 20 year old, I’ve seen quite a lot of changes over the years! But then again, there’s a certain satisfaction in seeing the world, and horses like me, still play such a vital role. Today I want to take you all back in time, to the year 1928.
The year started just as this one has – with a touch of frosty crispness to the morning air. Even in my older years, my owner, a man called Peter, makes sure I have a comfortable stall, a warm hay rack and, of course, the finest oat cakes he can find in the local village. 1928 started like many others, with the steady routine of our working days. Peter, God bless him, works hard, and it's a real partnership between us, him and my other draught horse companion, George. We share the task of delivering coal and other goods from the docks to homes and businesses in Aberdeen, pulling those heavy carts along the cobbled streets.
Sometimes, when Peter's not watching, I steal a moment to peek through the cart windows at the busy lives of those folk walking along the bustling pavements, their faces filled with so many expressions: a smile from a woman with a bright yellow bag full of groceries, a frown from a businessman with his bowler hat, or the joy on a young lad's face as he rushes to meet his father. Each face tells a story, just like ours, about their own lives, and we, the draught horses of Aberdeen, we're a part of their daily routine.
We were the workhorses of the city, helping keep the wheels turning – quite literally. But 1928 was different. We knew something was changing in the world. More cars were appearing on the roads, and that was quite exciting for us, though there were concerns of how the rumble and noise would affect other horses. Our human friends seemed very impressed with these strange, mechanical machines. They’d often pause as we plodded past, nodding in a mixture of appreciation and uncertainty, towards those new ‘horseless carriages’, as they called them. Some seemed nervous, others fascinated. One day, a local policeman, his hat pulled firmly over his head, even tried to stop our cart because it was travelling so slowly, despite the fact that a crowd of people had gathered around to watch us. I chuckled at that! The noise and smoke from these engines seemed loud and foreign to us, but it was undeniable, these strange contraptions were here to stay.
There were other, less obvious changes too. I’ve heard from my horse friends that far off in America, things were changing dramatically in the way horses were being trained. People seemed obsessed with the "science of equitation,” they told me. They’re finding ways to improve a horse's training through understanding anatomy and a scientific approach. Some horses, so they said, were even taught to perform “stunts” and jumps in shows for crowds of people to cheer! My, they sounded rather fancy and daring!
Back in Hayfield, though, life continued at a more steady pace, even with the rumble of those cars approaching. We still went about our daily tasks. I loved helping farmers to prepare the fields, pulling ploughs across the fertile Scottish land, getting the seeds sown for the future crops. But there was also something else special about 1928 – the London Olympic Games.
The games had a strong equestrian feel. Even though I never made it to London myself, Peter showed me photos from the games, images of majestic horses from all over the world, from France to Sweden, Argentina and Italy. The photos seemed magical, almost too vibrant and impressive! Some of these horses, we learnt, had been brought up by women, which I thought was fascinating and encouraging for the mares of our world!
These horses from afar competed in Dressage, Show Jumping and a new, thrilling, cross-country event called the Eventing competition. They were powerful animals with strong builds and a beauty in their movement that took my breath away. To witness the skill, confidence and strength they had in those events was astounding.
It made me realise that, despite the advancements and changes in the world around us, we, horses, were still much respected. It's always gratifying to feel valued and honored for our strength, intelligence and graceful presence in this world.
But 1928 brought not just the excitement of the Olympics. It also brought something unexpected and quite heartwarming - the creation of The Society for the Protection of Animals (S.P.A). In Hayfield, Peter was full of praise for them! I heard from the other horses how they worked to protect animals, advocating for kindness, responsible care, and fair treatment for creatures great and small.
Even though some horses were starting to see less work due to those ‘horseless carriages,’ we still played a vital role. And these organizations, working hard to help protect and improve the lives of animals all around the world, brought comfort and hope to us.
As the summer of 1928 progressed, we enjoyed the warmth and beauty of those long, bright days. It was a year for appreciating the simpler things: the refreshing taste of clear, cold water, the sun's warmth on our backs, the company of our fellow horses and, of course, the loving care of our humans. There’s a deep comfort in these simple things. They ground you, connect you to the Earth.
But the autumn, like all others, did come. It always does. I saw Peter begin to make preparations for winter: gathering firewood, making sure our stalls were warm, getting hay harvested for our winter feed. He even bought some sturdy boots and coats, a sign that the coldest season was coming, along with short, dark days, cold and misty mornings and the soft, thick snow we'd wake up to. It meant slower work for us but always, the constant reassurance that, whatever came, our routines would remain the same.
Through it all, there’s a comfort to the familiarity, the cycle of seasons and life on a farm, and how we horses were at the heart of it, a vital part of the farm’s economy and community. As we looked at those bustling modern roads, filled with strange engines and their loud noises, we understood that change is constant, even as life’s rhythm on a farm carried on at its own slower pace.
This is a snapshot of 1928, a year I shall remember fondly as I reflect on these changing times from the safety and contentment of my stall in Hayfield. As we move into 1929, the year stretches before us full of possibilities. Perhaps next time, I’ll share tales of my favourite memories with you: Those trips to the fair in Aberdeen, or the times I was a part of the big cart races that filled the market square.
Thank you for reading. And if you ever find yourself in Scotland, you can stop by Hayfield for a chat and a cup of tea!
With warmest wishes from me and my fellow horse friends.
Emma
