Written by Emma, Hayfield, Aberdeen, Scotland
Good morning, fellow equines, and all my human friends who love horses as much as I do! It’s Emma here, writing from my lovely field overlooking the heather hills near Hayfield, just outside of Aberdeen. As many of you know, I love history, and every year I try to capture what life was like for horses just a few years before our current one. So let’s journey back in time, to the year 1954, a year that marked some exciting developments, some changes, and a few things that felt like a horse's breath on a frosty morning – slow and steady, yet profound.
1954: What a year it was! Spring felt particularly wonderful that year – the first blade of grass bursting through the cold, damp ground was something truly magical! My best friend, Jasper, a sturdy brown shire, used to say "It’s the year the sun finally decided to wake up!” and we'd laugh as the first dandelions bloomed in the fields, little yellow explosions of joy after a long winter.
I'd had quite the adventurous year the year before. I'd just turned 19, a strapping young filly then. My farmer, Angus, and his family had taken me to the famous Royal Highland Show in Edinburgh, and my hooves felt the soft green grass of the showground, saw crowds of excited people, and my ears twitched with every clack of hooves on the wood of the main ring! The year before, my life was quite different – a mix of plowing, pulling a cart filled with turnips to market, and spending lazy summer afternoons grazing by the quiet river.
A Changing World:
It seemed 1954 was a year of changing winds for horses, a gentle rustle of something different coming our way. That's how it felt. You see, machines had started appearing more often on farms. It didn't scare us too much, those tractors with their snorting engines, but they did mean some of our kind were no longer needed for ploughing or carting goods. It did make Angus’s life a little easier, and we all had an extra half hour in the fields to snooze under the Scottish sky. It was a little unsettling at first, I confess, as horses had always been an integral part of life, but as my fellow equine companions would tell you, "We adapt. We always adapt!" And I do think this adaptability has been a strength for us all.
New Challenges and a Glimpse of Hope:
But 1954 wasn't only about change; it was a year for horses to truly shine, in a new and unexpected way – in the arena! I loved to watch the equestrian events, those graceful leaps and flowing movements of my fellow horses in dressage competitions. Some even talked of jumping, and that sparked a new kind of fire in my heart – it seemed horses had a place not only in farm life, but also in sports and leisure! And let me tell you, a horse’s spirit, just like a human’s, yearns for that freedom of movement, for that partnership with another being who understands. This, my friends, was the exciting beginning of a new path, a way for us to showcase our grace and talent.
I remember watching the Olympics in Helsinki on the wireless, my farmer Angus sitting beside me, listening to the voices from far-away lands talking about athletes of all kinds. And even though I didn't understand all the words, I felt the energy of those games. I understood that human spirit of competition and achievement, and somehow I felt it resonated within my own horse spirit!
More Than Workhorses:
And as horses, we were indeed getting noticed in new ways. Even though those majestic steeds pulling grand carriages through London had become a thing of the past (unless you were royalty!), horses like me, draft horses, found work hauling loads, pulling lumber, and working in construction sites, so it was certainly not a year of horses being "put out to pasture" for good. It was a shift, yes, a slow and careful step into a new era, where some horses, like my beloved friend Jasper, worked hard and remained indispensable.
My 1954: Adventures in Hayfield:
Back in Hayfield, our year had its own rhythms. We continued to work hard on the farm, the familiar routines becoming a comfort. Spring meant plowing, the scent of turned earth mingled with the sharp tang of spring air, while summer brought long hours of grazing in sun-dappled fields, and the lazy rhythm of river water.
Autumn arrived with a rush of red and gold, a magnificent tapestry woven across the hills. As I pulled a heavy load of hay bales from the field to the barn, the wind sang its songs of changing seasons. It felt good, like a hard day's work with a reward. It felt like the earth, with its gifts, was a constant reminder of how fortunate we were to be alive in that time and place, breathing the same air and feeling the same earth beneath our hooves.
1954 ended much like it began: with a deep feeling of connection to the land, the seasons, and my fellow horses. We learned that change doesn't mean losing everything. It just means we have to find new ways to express the best in ourselves, the resilience, the strength, and that loving spirit that binds us, horses and humans, together in the tapestry of life.
I’ll leave you with this thought, my dear friends: as much as I love the changes, as much as I see hope and promise in this evolving world, there's a timeless quality about our bond, horses and humans, a deep connection that’s forged in the earth, sweat, and trust. And for that, my friends, let’s raise our heads, take a deep breath of the fresh air, and say “Thank you” for this wonderful journey.
*Stay tuned, dear readers, as we navigate through 1955, a year of discoveries, challenges, and perhaps, a bit more magic. And as always, remember, “Every hoofbeat is a story. Let yours be told!” *
Emma, Hayfield, Scotland
www.equiworld.org
