Good morning, dear readers! Emma here, a grey draught mare with a white mane and tail. I call Hayfield, near Aberdeen, my home, and I’m thrilled to welcome you to another installment of my horse history blog! It’s a privilege to share my story with you all, and I hope my musings offer a glimpse into the lives of horses in years gone by. Today, I’m taking you back to 1936 – a year filled with change and challenge, but also with hope and resilience.
1936 began like any other year in the stable – with the familiar scent of hay and the gentle clatter of hooves on cobblestones. My human family, the MacDonalds, relied on me and the other draught horses to help them work the land. My job, like that of many of my fellow mares, was primarily to pull the heavy plough. This was not an easy task, as the fields were often tough and the soil dense, but I learned to rely on my strength and my natural instinct to endure.
Even though we worked hard, there were moments of quiet joy – enjoying a warm morning bath in the stream, feeling the cool breeze through my mane on a sunny day, or sharing a nibble of barley with my stablemates. It's amazing how simple things can make you feel content.
The news from the wider world crept into our lives in little bits – a rumour here, a story from the local newspaper there. 1936 saw the start of the Olympic Games in Berlin. While I didn't understand the concept of these ‘games’ completely, I did enjoy listening to the MacDonalds’ tales of incredible feats of human strength and agility. It filled me with pride, knowing that human beings and animals alike were pushing their limits, testing boundaries, and celebrating excellence.
Later that year, a grand new motorcar – all shining chrome and loud purrs – made its appearance in Hayfield. Though I admit to feeling a pang of envy when I saw my human family’s fascination with this machine, it couldn't replace the bond I shared with them and the joy I felt at working beside them. After all, the strength of my legs and my innate understanding of the land were still crucial in preparing for the harvest. The car might be sleek and efficient, but I remained an integral part of the community and its well-being.
And then, the world shifted again – the announcement of the upcoming coronation of King George VI. We gathered in the barn, my fellow horses and I, as we listened to the humans recounting the details – the ceremony, the crowds, the splendour of it all. The anticipation built up in the air, and even our simple, rural existence was touched by the wave of national pride.
It wasn't always just grand news that reached us, however. Whispers of hardship and challenges reached Hayfield too. The economic climate was a source of worry for many, including the MacDonalds. We felt the impact of the times in the reduced rations and the need to work even harder. I witnessed a change in the MacDonalds – more silence, less laughter – but their dedication to us never wavered. I believe this quiet strength, this spirit of persevering through difficult times, is a quality we all shared - the horses, the farmers, and indeed, all creatures on this land.
And yet, 1936 wasn’t all about struggles. The year also brought moments of joyous discovery. For me, it was a chance to welcome new life to the stable. A young foal, a chestnut with a splash of white on its nose, arrived to join our small herd. His enthusiasm and boisterous play brought an extra twinkle to our days. It was a constant reminder that even amidst challenges, there is beauty in the simplicity of new beginnings and the wonder of new life.
In the twilight of 1936, as the first frost began to cling to the grass, we gathered around the hay bales in the barn. It was then, with the smell of autumn leaves filling the air and the steady beat of the MacDonalds' laughter echoing in the quiet, that I realised something. The world is full of changes – good and bad. But at our heart, horses and humans remain connected. We live in a constant dance of reliance, each playing our role in the tapestry of life.
And for this, my heart felt full. The year had been challenging, yet beautiful. As a grey draught mare with a white mane and tail, my existence might not be marked by extraordinary feats, but in 1936, I witnessed the simple beauty of life and the quiet strength of human and animal connection, a story I’m eager to tell you all about in my next blog post.
Until then, thank you for reading. And remember, you can always find more interesting stories from the world of horses on EquiWorld.org, the online platform dedicated to celebrating the noble animal and its fascinating history. I encourage you to explore it – and perhaps you’ll find a tale that resonates with you too!
