Good afternoon, fellow equines and horse-lovers! Emma here, a 20-year-old Grey Draught mare with a splash of white in my mane and tail. I've been lucky enough to experience a good chunk of this fascinating world we share - both the good times and the challenges.
Today, I'm thinking back to 1952. Now, I might not be a history buff, but even I couldn't ignore the rumbles in the air that year. It felt like things were changing - rapidly! But where was the change for us horses? It's funny how much I can recall from that year.
My life then was, in some ways, simple. I lived in Hayfield, near Aberdeen, Scotland. It's a beautiful spot, you know. Lots of rolling hills and meadows filled with the freshest, greenest grass you ever did see! A lovely farmer named Duncan had owned me for years. A kind, steady soul, always keeping his promise to look after his horses. I never once felt the need to bolt for the hills - although, I must confess, Duncan did like a dram, so I've had the odd adventurous midnight dash!
It was a different time. Back in 1952, horses were still relied upon heavily for work. My days were filled with hauling goods, tilling the fields, and hauling the milk wagon to deliver the freshest milk to families. Every morning, I'd rise with the sun and walk alongside my fellow draught horses, their powerful necks held high, their breath misting in the crisp Scottish air. We knew the rhythms of work - the gentle click of harness, the steady pull of the plow, the comforting thud of hooves on cobbled streets. Life felt stable, grounded.
1952 started like any other year - filled with the usual tasks and rituals. Duncan and I began the year prepping the fields for the new harvest, working with our horseshoes deep in the rich soil. We were proud to do our part, knowing that the world depended on our strength.
But then...something shifted.
A new buzz filled the air. The rumour mill amongst the farm horses had it - "Machines." I still remember the shiver that ran through the stable when I heard this word for the first time. The farm's younger horses, still fresh-faced and full of enthusiasm, talked about these "machines" with wide-eyed wonder. "Machines" were apparently sleek, powerful things, and some whispered they were meant to "replace us" .
The talk around the farm grew louder with every passing day. It seemed that everyone was buzzing about the "machines". It was almost as if we horses felt a subtle shift in the way people treated us. The gentle pat on the neck became more hesitant. The way they spoke about their fields became less about the strength of their horses and more about how powerful these machines were.
My old, wise mare friend, Maggie, told me a story - something about a man in her past who owned her as a young foal. He had once promised her, "We’ll be inseparable. You'll help me on my farm." Yet, Maggie said, one day he brought in a strange metal beast. He had a look of pure excitement on his face and said, "This, Maggie, will do all the work from now on. You can have your rest!"
It’s an old mare’s tale, of course. But I must admit that a chill went down my spine when she said it. I'd felt a flicker of apprehension myself. Did these machines really pose a threat?
The rest of the year unfolded in a way that none of us could have imagined. News reached Hayfield about the coronation of a new Queen – Queen Elizabeth II! A joyous wave of excitement washed over the country. The villagers gathered in the town square to watch it on the small black and white TV in the local shop, all singing and waving flags.
Now, for us horses, the Coronation Day wasn't really about kings and queens. But I have to say, we felt it in our hearts too! A sense of celebration. I've always been a fan of "Queen’s Horses", you see, those beautiful, spirited horses that pull her golden carriages. They truly have the grand life, and even us stable horses couldn't resist feeling a little proud to be associated with them, even if it was through this lovely new Queen. The excitement around the coronation did provide us with an extra treat – a good heap of carrots and apples at our stall, as well as a playful ride to the town square on the farm cart. It was almost as if Duncan, who loved his queen just like everyone else, was celebrating the horses in his own way!
However, as 1952 reached its final months, the air buzzed with a different sort of excitement – an unsettling, restless feeling. We had noticed changes at Hayfield, and then in the town. We saw men in overalls repairing and cleaning strange vehicles. Big, noisy trucks with trailers that looked like metal barns kept rolling in, and tractors with churning wheels and powerful engines became a familiar sight. We horses just had to admit that they did look impressive – strong, bold. They reminded us of our own powerful selves, but these machines were loud, forceful, almost relentless!
Yet, there was a quiet understanding between us horses - we understood what this meant, and a bittersweet wave washed over us. The world was changing, and for us, the era of "doing things the traditional way" was coming to an end. There was sadness, but also hope for a new future. After all, horses have an incredible knack for adapting, and just as they'd adapted to tractors, the next year would hold its own challenges and opportunities for us, but I wasn't afraid of what was to come. The world had changed before, and we had survived and thrived.
The last day of 1952 found us gathered in our stalls. Duncan, his face creased with a hint of worry, promised he would never abandon us. He shared a cup of hot tea with us - an unusual gesture that night, but then, we were his horses, and we were going to see this all through together. I rested my head on the worn boards of my stall and let the warmth of Duncan’s presence comfort me. As I closed my eyes, I pictured a vision of my life going forward - a world of adapting, evolving, always striving to connect with the world, and my fellow horses, in whatever form the future took. It might not be the world we were born into, but it would be a world that horses would embrace, and I would do it all with my head held high and hooves steady, ready to step into the new decade, the new era.
Stay tuned for my next blog, where I'll be sharing my adventures from 1953 and beyond, and how we horses continue to navigate this ever-changing world! Until then, take care and remember, horses have been, are, and will continue to be part of the story, in all its twists and turns.
