Hello, dear readers! It's Emma here, back again with another slice of history from my perspective, a humble grey draught horse from the bustling little village of Hayfield, nestled near the stunning Scottish highlands. As you all know, I am on a mission to bring the horse's history to light, and what better place to start than with the year 0301?
Let me paint you a picture of life in this year. It's spring, and the air is buzzing with the sounds of newborn lambs, the earthy scent of tilled soil, and the ever-present aroma of smoke from the local blacksmith's forge. In Hayfield, we are fortunate to have a gentle and caring farmer, Thomas, who is as familiar with every patch of land as I am with every nook and cranny of my stable. His farm, nestled at the foot of the Cairngorms, is a haven of activity. We've got sheep, a few cows, and of course, a sizeable amount of horses, including myself and my good friends, Angus, a chestnut stallion with a fiery spirit, and Bonnie, a fiery mare with a heart of gold.
Speaking of fire, we are lucky to live in a period of peace, as far as my limited horse knowledge extends. There aren't many threats looming over us. While the Romans left these parts ages ago, they have left an indelible mark on the land, from the impressive roads they built to the breeds of horses they brought with them, and that is no small feat, you know.
Anyway, back to my own little world. 0301 marks the start of a year filled with hard work and joyful camaraderie. In the early months, our duties are centred on ploughing the fields and sowing seeds. There's nothing like the smell of freshly tilled earth, and the sense of purpose that fills the air as we pull the heavy plows across the land. We, the horses of Hayfield, are not merely workers. We are family. We gather around Thomas’ wife, the lovely Maggie, who brings us our delicious breakfast of oats and barley every morning. The clinking of their feeding buckets and the soft sound of her gentle humming is as comforting as a warm blanket on a frosty night. It's times like these, working side-by-side with my companions, that I truly appreciate our bond, that unspoken language of loyalty and trust that passes between us horses.
And oh, the stories that are told around the stable! We horses have our own unique way of communicating, and believe me, there is a lot going on beneath the surface! For instance, just the other day, I overheard Angus tell Bonnie a tale of his travels to the nearby village, where he encountered a rather elegant black stallion who, I dare say, thought himself far too grand to acknowledge Angus’ presence. This led to a lively discussion amongst the group, as we horses love sharing tales of far-off places and encounters with horses of different breeds, all with a dash of exaggeration and gossip, naturally!
Summer brings with it a change in our routine. The fields are full of life, their colours ablaze with vibrant wildflowers. The haymaking season starts, and you could say it is the highlight of the year. The sweet scent of drying grass hangs heavy in the air as we transport bales to the barn, all the while relishing the warm sunshine on our coats and the cooling breezes rustling through our manes.
Speaking of breezes, did I tell you about my mane and tail? My mother often said it was my defining feature, all silky white against my grey coat. As I stood in the sunshine on a day just like this one, she would run her fingers through it, a silent promise to keep it clean and healthy. Oh, she was a wise one, my mother. She instilled in me a deep appreciation for the small pleasures of life: a warm lick from a friendly horse, a gentle pat from Thomas, or the sweet taste of grass after a hard day's work. And, I confess, I find it rather satisfying when a child rushes to run his fingers through my mane after school. Children hold such innocence and wonder within their eyes. It brings joy to my old, yet well-fed and pampered heart.
Come autumn, our duties change again. We help to harvest the ripened wheat and barley. Our pace becomes steady and determined, a silent understanding shared between horse and farmer. Thomas, wise and kind, has always been careful not to push us beyond our limits. He believes that a happy horse is a productive one, a saying I often chuckle at. What's more, he knows that each of us has our own unique personality and strengths. While Angus thrives in leading the way, pulling with powerful strength, Bonnie is renowned for her speed and agility. I, however, take pride in my steadiness and resilience. Our team dynamic, the way we work together, is as seamless as a well-stitched garment.
And when winter rolls in, its grip as cold and icy as the northern winds that sweep across our highlands, we gather in the stable, the scent of hay and straw mingling with the warmth of our collective bodies. It’s during these long, cold nights, that we truly become a community. We huddle together, sharing stories, playing a game or two of hide-and-seek in the straw-covered floor, and relishing the occasional sweet treat from Maggie. It is in the heart of winter that we experience the deep bonds of friendship and camaraderie, the essence of what makes our community so unique.
You see, being a draught horse in 0301 AD, or for that matter, any year, is more than just working hard, ploughing fields and transporting grain. It’s about finding joy in the smallest details, like the fresh smell of morning dew, a warm ray of sunlight, and the sound of a kind voice. It's about the shared burden of work, the strength in our community, and the unwavering spirit of resilience that binds us all together, regardless of breed or temperament. And sometimes, when the world around me feels too chaotic, I try to imagine what the future might hold. I see a world where horses are valued for their gentle souls, and not just for the labour they can offer. I see a world where children and horses are best friends, their love for each other transcending differences. I see a world where the story of horses, their contributions to humanity, their grace and resilience, are celebrated and cherished.
For now, I continue my life in Hayfield, another year wiser and a little less boisterous, maybe, but never less devoted to my life as a horse. The world is changing all around us, yet here, in the peaceful embrace of our community, we find our own equilibrium. It’s a quiet, steady, almost poetic rhythm of life, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Stay tuned, dear readers! I have many more stories to share, and who knows, maybe someday I'll even encounter the "elegant black stallion" Angus spoke of. But for now, let us savour this moment, this beautiful tapestry of life as it unfolds around us, a constant reminder that the heart of a horse is a wellspring of wisdom and love.
Until next time, Emma
