Hello, darlings! It’s Emma here, a grand old mare of twenty summers with a coat as silver as the moon and a mane and tail as white as the driven snow. I’m writing from my quiet stable here in Hayfield, a little village nestled near the bustling city of Aberdeen. Today, I want to tell you a bit about life for horses in the year 1934. Oh, what a time it was!
You see, the world was in a bit of a turmoil then, what with the Great Depression still casting its long shadow. Even us horses felt its effects. But as always, we carried on, our work a steady rhythm in the midst of uncertainty.
Now, the year started with a bit of a chill in the air. January found us all bundled up against the biting Scottish wind, a blanket of white covering the fields. For us draught horses, this meant less pulling and more standing about, munching hay and catching up on our naps. We enjoyed the peace, although some of the younger horses whinnied about the lack of action.
By the time February rolled around, the frost had loosened its grip, and a sense of renewal swept through the fields. I distinctly remember feeling the tug of spring in my muscles as the days grew longer and brighter. Farmer McTavish, bless his soul, started working us a little harder, preparing the land for planting. He would often tell us stories about his days in the war, how the horses had been absolutely essential in pulling artillery, supplying food, and transporting soldiers. A feeling of pride filled my heart every time he shared his tales.
March arrived, a breath of fresh air indeed. It meant the first buds on the trees, a gentle breeze, and the glorious smell of freshly tilled soil. Farmer McTavish had a big spring delivery of seeds – the very best barley from the Borders – and it was our task, as strong and reliable draught horses, to pull the carts and sow them across the fields. We worked hard, the sweat dripping off our backs, but there was joy in it all, the anticipation of the harvest, and the promise of a full stomach come autumn.
April found us hauling manure and lime, essential nutrients for a healthy crop. The sun had finally broken through, painting the fields in shades of green. There were more foals than usual this year, and I had the privilege of watching them learn the ropes from their mothers. I fondly remember watching one little chestnut mare learning to trot in circles. It was utterly delightful, reminding me of my own first clumsy steps in the world.
May saw us enjoying a period of slightly less laborious work, a time for respite after the hectic spring rush. I was even fortunate enough to graze freely with my kind in a beautiful meadow. The sun seemed to linger, making everything golden, and the sweet scent of wildflowers floated in the air. We basked in the warmth, the sound of birdsong all around us, and for a little while, we simply felt like part of this world, just living and breathing, basking in the beauty of nature.
June brought the scent of freshly cut hay. Oh, that delicious scent! We were all eagerly anticipating the start of the haying season. But a bit of sadness mingled with that joy. My dearest friend, Millie, the dappled grey mare, fell ill. I remember her spirit so vibrant, and to see her grow so weak broke my heart. We were all incredibly worried. Thankfully, with some rest and the best care Farmer McTavish could provide, Millie slowly recovered. What a relief!
July came and went, a flurry of work as we transported hay from the field to the barn, helping secure the vital food source for the coming winter. It felt a bit like a ritual, one that gave a sense of order and security amidst the changing times. The nights were growing cooler, and the sky was ablaze with constellations. We could almost feel autumn in the air. I felt grateful to be here, a small part of the rhythm of nature, our hooves helping to nurture the land that sustained us.
As the sun began to set earlier in the day, we prepared for the busy autumn harvest. I can still smell the ripe barley in my memory, the aroma intoxicating as we loaded the wagons and transported the bounty. And oh, what a celebration when it was all done! There was a special sense of satisfaction in sharing the fruits of our hard work with Farmer McTavish and his family. I believe he had a rather grand harvest dinner with his neighbours – a tradition I quite admired!
The end of 1934, like every end of the year, held a touch of melancholy. The leaves on the trees were painted with a vibrant mix of yellows, reds and oranges before they surrendered to the earth. It was as if the world itself was getting ready for a peaceful sleep, until the sun would wake it again in the spring. The winter season felt long and cold in the 1930s, but there was a beauty to it – a starkness that mirrored our hard work throughout the year.
The horses here at Hayfield were a family, we looked after each other. The foals would learn from the older horses about the ways of the world, how to work, and how to cope with the long, cold winters. Every evening we’d share stories and gossip. Our hooves pattering a steady beat against the cobblestones was the only sound as we made our way to the stables, our hearts full of camaraderie and hope.
The year ended as it began, with the wind whistling through the fields, but we knew, deep in our hearts, that we were ready. Ready to face whatever came next, as a team, with strength, resilience, and a shared love for the work we do.
There was a bit of news from around the world in 1934 that caught the attention of all the horses. There were talks about mechanization – the arrival of tractors. Many of us, the oldtimers, whispered amongst ourselves that these “Iron Horses” were a bit frightening, but some younger ones looked at the machines with a hint of curiosity. For some, it might mean an easier life – fewer long days pulling the plow.
But there were many who knew, in our equine hearts, that a tractor cannot replicate the feel of a plough cutting through fertile soil, the deep satisfaction of bringing the earth to life. Nor could it replicate the deep, knowing bond we shared with the farmers, the language of a gentle tug and a knowing look, the feeling of being an essential part of the land we helped nurture.
That’s why I always say: there’s nothing quite like a horse!
And that’s the story of life as a horse in 1934. It was a year filled with both hardships and joy, but like any year, it shaped our world and made us stronger. So, my darlings, let's raise our heads and say, “Neigh” to 1934! A beautiful and timeless year in our history. I’ll be back next time with more adventures in the world of horses!
Until then, take care and stay strong!
Emma, from Hayfield, near Aberdeen
