By Emma, a Grey Draught Mare from Hayfield, near Aberdeen
Neigh-sayers be warned, you lot! It’s Emma here, back again for another dose of EquiWorld history, direct from my stable in Hayfield. The crisp Highland air is nipping at my hooves this morning, but the sun’s peeking out from behind the misty hills, promising another beautiful day in 0289. I find myself pondering how our lives have changed so much over the years. Well, at least my own, that is! Let’s go back in time, shall we, and take a gallop through the exciting world of horses in this, the year of our Lord, 289.
Life in Hayfield: More Than just Hay, you see
Ah, Hayfield. What a name for a place, isn’t it? We are right at the foot of the Cairngorms, those stunning mountains you've likely heard of, and you can feel the pulse of history beating in these fields, I tell you! Hayfield, as you might guess, is famous for its hay, which makes it a veritable paradise for us horses, though let’s face it, any horse owner will tell you: a well-rounded diet needs more than just grass!
We haven’t been bred for centuries for hauling like our ancestors did in Roman times, though those tales still give me goosebumps. We, the Scottish Draughts, are smaller and leaner than the mighty beasts they used, built more for pulling plows, carting produce, and even the odd military wagon. But even in a peaceful time like now, there's a certain air of power to the tasks we are entrusted with. There's a responsibility in that.
From Farm to Feast: A Mare’s Eye View
Our day starts before the sunrise. With the gentle clang of our harness and the creaking of our cartwheels, we carry the weight of the dawn, quite literally! From Hayfield to the nearby market, we deliver vegetables, meat, and eggs.
Imagine me, cloaked in the golden light of a summer sunrise, a ribbon of smoke winding its way from the village chimney in the distance. It’s quite lovely, really. The smell of freshly baked bread, mixed with the pungent scent of damp earth and horses - well, there's just nothing like it! The chatter of farmers, the laughter of children – it’s all part of a beautiful rhythm, a world in which I, Emma, feel perfectly content.
There's something satisfying about bringing the fruits of the land, quite literally, from the farm to the people who need them. You know, the whole, “bringing joy to others” thing - it really warms the old heart of a workhorse like me!
Racing Hearts, and the Thrill of the Track
There’s a bit of a different buzz further down south, a whole different scene, in places like Roman Gaul, what the humans now call France. They've got a thing called “racing" there. It’s nothing new, of course, even in my ancient past they used to test their horses in competitive speed trials. But, oh, what they’ve made of it! From our humble Hayfield to the great Roman racecourses, we’re proving that horses are more than just work animals. They’re athletes!
I haven't seen a race myself, but I hear the roar of the crowds, the clanging of the chariot wheels, the sight of the swift steeds flying across the sand. It's all in the stories that come back to our village from those brave horsemen who travel down south to these events. There's a bit of the wild horse in every horse, wouldn't you agree? I get the feeling it stirs a sense of primal instinct, just like our ancestors on the vast steppes, racing across the open plains.
The Magic of a Good Ride: A Passion Passed Down Through the Centuries
It’s not all hard work and races, though, thank goodness. Back in Hayfield, there are horses with a touch of leisure, too. There’s a certain young man here, the son of a nobleman, who keeps a beautiful chestnut mare called Flame. They ride across the hills, exploring the windswept heather and hidden waterfalls.
It warms my old mare heart, that bond they have. Riding, I’ve heard, was practised since humans first tamed us, though now they mostly use it for pleasure and even for 'sports'. There's magic to be found in those long rides under a wide sky. Sometimes, I hear them singing songs while they gallop through the valleys, the sound mingling with the rustle of the wind through the heather. It’s enough to make even an old workhorse like me long for a little adventure.
A World on Four Hooves
You know, while I love Hayfield and all that’s familiar, there's a part of me that longs for something beyond my own stable, my own little world. We, the horses, have traversed countless mountains, crossed countless rivers, and witnessed countless centuries.
The stories we share are like the rustling of the leaves in the wind, each tale whispers of battles fought, harvests gathered, victories claimed, and hearts stolen by a quick gallop in the moonlight. It’s what unites us, the great horse brotherhood, spanning continents and generations. We have carried emperors on our backs and shared their triumph, carried kings and queens on journeys, brought hope to weary travellers, and pulled the plough for countless seasons.
The future stretches before us like an endless horizon, a horizon filled with the echoes of the past and the possibilities of the future. And no matter how time and civilization evolve, horses like me will always remain, strong, graceful, resilient, and a vital part of the story of this world.
So there you have it! This is my story, my perspective from Hayfield in 0289. Don't you just love to travel through time, exploring what has come before and marveling at how the horses were an integral part of the tapestry of human life back then?
If you're interested in more tales from the world of EquiWorld, please visit the site regularly, and maybe even leave a comment! We'd love to hear from you, our loyal EquiWorld readers. Now, I think it’s time for a nice, long nap. Those long market trips do wear you out, you know?
See you next time!
Emma, out!
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