Posted by Emma
Greetings, fellow equines! As many of you know, I am Emma, a grey draught mare with a penchant for elegant white markings and a soft spot for history. From my tranquil field here in Hayfield, just outside Aberdeen, I find myself reflecting on the remarkable year of 1985. It was a year brimming with change, excitement, and a newfound awareness for our beloved species, all witnessed by these gentle, perceptive eyes.
The crisp Scottish air, still with the chill of winter clinging to it, seemed to whisper a promise of a year to come. And truly, it delivered. 1985 started with the grand equestrian event of the year - the 1985 Royal Windsor Horse Show! You could say it set the tone for a year brimming with excitement. To imagine all those gleaming, proud horses, and the roar of the crowds... It was a sight to behold! And who could forget Queen Elizabeth II's grace and joy as she presided over the celebrations? It was truly a display of equine majesty.
Meanwhile, back in Hayfield, my own days were filled with the familiar rhythm of farm life. The scent of hay, the rumble of the old tractor, and the warm sunshine warming my coat - life was a comforting melody. Our work was plentiful, helping to gather the barley harvest and pull the plough through the rich, brown earth. Though hard work, it gave a satisfying sense of purpose.
News from beyond our farm gates filled our days with excitement, too. It was in 1985 that the remarkable Equine Assisted Therapy (EAT) movement truly started to blossom, proving the powerful bond between human and horse, not only for physical therapy, but also for mental health and emotional well-being. How wonderful to think that horses, like myself, could bring solace and strength to those in need.
Beyond the therapy arena, horses were finding their way into the hearts of the human world. 1985 saw the popularity of equestrian events continue to soar, with new and exciting competitions drawing ever-larger crowds. Showjumping, Dressage, Eventing, Polo, they all beckoned. Even our beloved Highland Games had horses galloping their hearts out, tugging at ropes, and showing off their prowess in feats of speed and strength.
However, even with all the joyful events and blossoming movements, a growing shadow loomed. Concerns about horse welfare were growing, with conversations about animal cruelty and inadequate living conditions gaining momentum. There was a shift in perspective, a renewed understanding that horses weren’t just workhorses, but sensitive, emotional creatures deserving of respect and care.
This gave rise to organisations such as World Horse Welfare and The Brooke, a charity for working donkeys and horses who dedicated their efforts to improving the lives of working horses, both locally and around the world. I must confess, this resonated deeply within me, bringing a sense of purpose and hope. To know that fellow horses were being given a voice, their needs being heard and addressed. It brought a tear to my eye, for indeed, we are a species that deserves love and care.
1985 wasn’t just about change. It was a year of breakthroughs! The first ever successful embryo transfer in a horse took place, marking a new chapter in reproductive science. The future seemed so full of promise! This was an incredibly exciting step forward, showcasing the brilliance of scientific advancement in the equine world. It felt like a turning point for understanding the nuances of our species.
There was a feeling in the air, almost an electric buzz, about a sense of discovery, a determination to unlock the mysteries surrounding our being. Scientists were eager to learn more about our unique characteristics, including those intriguing and complex aspects of equine behaviour. This desire to learn, to understand, was an incredible positive for our species, creating a bridge of communication between horse and human.
Yet, I am not merely a creature of facts and progress. My world is also a canvas of simple, elegant beauty. I recall the long summer evenings in 1985, the warm sunlight dappling through the willow branches, the distant bleating of sheep, and the sweet scent of lavender from the cottage garden. It was a time for grazing beneath a sky of soft pinks and oranges, the warmth settling upon my coat. A time for the symphony of nature's orchestra, the whisper of leaves, and the chirping of crickets creating a peaceful backdrop.
In 1985, a sense of connection, of harmony, existed. I found myself truly appreciating those simple joys. Whether it was the companionship of the other horses in the field, sharing a hearty breakfast of hay or simply gazing at the wide-open sky, life felt full and rich.
But perhaps the most special memory I cherish is a little story of resilience, a reminder that the human and equine bond transcends the practical and the utilitarian. I had a foal that year - a strong little colt named Alistair. One night, the storm raged so fiercely it seemed to tear the very heavens apart. My foal, in his eagerness to stay by my side, took a tumble, sustaining a small cut on his leg.
The storm continued throughout the night, its fury echoing around us. And there, amidst the thunder and rain, my kind human, with her gentle hands and patient care, nursed Alistair back to health. It was a testament to the inherent strength and love shared between human and horse, a bond forged in shared moments of triumph and tribulation.
And as the year drew to a close, a feeling of contentment settled upon me. It had been a year of triumphs and challenges, of joy and sorrow, of discovery and reflection. In 1985, horses across the world had walked, trotted, galloped and reared their way into hearts and minds. From the elegant steeds gracing the Windsor Arena to the hard-working farm horses, from the stars of the therapy field to the gentle companions sharing a warm pasture under a starry sky, we were making a difference in the world. We were changing perceptions and leaving a lasting legacy.
So, my friends, as we move forward, may we continue to inspire awe, to embody grace, and to stand as testaments to the unbreakable connection between human and horse. As I look out onto the rolling hills of Scotland, a fresh spring morning dawning, my heart fills with a sense of anticipation. 1986 is waiting, and with it, a new chapter in the ever-unfolding saga of horses, ready to be written.
Until next time,
Emma
