Greetings, dear fellow equines and horse-loving friends! Emma here, your friendly neighbourhood grey mare from the rolling green hills of Hayfield, near Aberdeen in bonnie Scotland. Welcome to my blog, where I chronicle my experiences as a draught horse living in the fascinating, and often tumultuous, world of 374 AD.
As always, let me begin by saying it is a privilege to share my story with you all, particularly in a year so rich in historical events! For you see, while we may live out our days pulling plows, carts, or carrying burdens, the human world is a whirlwind of activity – empires rise and fall, kings wage war, and new ideas spread like wildfire across the land.
It is no small matter, I tell you, being a part of such a dynamic era! I confess, though, my view is a little more...down-to-earth. For all the grandeur of history, the everyday life of a working horse is, for the most part, quite straightforward: feeding, working, sleeping, and then back to feeding, working, and sleeping again.
But even our routine life is touched by the winds of change! So let me take you through a typical year in the life of Emma, your humble draught mare.
The Early Spring
Ah, the scent of spring! After a long winter huddled in our stable, the air is alive with the chirping of birds and the smell of fresh earth. It’s the season of rebirth, a time of renewal, and for me, a time of new, gleaming coat – my white mane and tail, shining with the sun’s warm kiss, feel lighter than ever!
This is also the time when my days are long and busy, prepping the fields for the year's harvest. The first task, a necessity in these chilly months, is to drag a hefty iron harrow across the frozen soil. A slow and steady pace is needed, a reminder of my strength and unwavering determination. And my strength is put to good use, the metal teeth of the harrow, heavy on my back, carving a straight, deep path through the soil, ready for planting.
And that’s exactly what the farmers do as the earth begins to thaw. They sing merrily as they sow the seeds of barley and oats – their hope for a good harvest echoing across the fields.
The High Summer
As the days lengthen, and the sun’s warmth brings life to the land, my work takes on a more lively pace. The cart groans under the weight of freshly harvested barley, driven by a sturdy, handsome stallion called Roderick. We form a team, Roderick with his proud head held high, guiding our path, and me, with my strong and steady gait, providing the necessary force.
It's a happy rhythm, we two horses, pulling our burden over the cobblestones. The village folk stand and watch as we pass, the sounds of our hooves rhythmically clicking on the stone a familiar, soothing sound. It is work, no doubt, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. The farmers have a kind heart; they provide good food, shelter, and they respect us, even talking to us, calling me “Emma, my fine mare, strong as a rock” and “Emma, my brave one, a true workhorse”.
This is the life of a working horse, and though simple, I am filled with a quiet contentment, proud to be a part of the daily life that sustains our village.
The Coming of Autumn
A chill creeps into the air, the leaves on the trees start turning a kaleidoscope of red, orange and gold. The days are shorter now, the light fading quickly, as the harvest winds to a close. I am no longer so busy pulling loads – we have time to rest. Yet, we cannot fully abandon the farm. There is wood to gather, carrying it from the forest to the village, fuel for the fires of winter, keeping everyone warm and safe.
I especially like the Autumn. There’s a beautiful quietness about it. It's as if nature itself breathes a sigh of contentment, after its work for the year is done.
But sometimes, the stillness is broken by an unnerving rumbling. A few weeks ago, I was enjoying a peaceful morning in the paddock, nibbling on some hay, when a strange sound filled the air – the clatter of hooves on stone, the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal, a deep, guttural shouting... the sound of war.
It is a sight I will not forget – an enormous horde of warriors, armed to the teeth, riding through our valley, with their dark and fearsome banners high in the air. A wave of apprehension swept through the village as they stormed past – the rumour mill began to turn, spinning tales of the mighty, fearless Hun, the scourge of the world.
We horses, naturally, know nothing of such politics, but even we can feel the undercurrent of anxiety. We are well-aware of our purpose, of our ability to pull carts, plow fields, but also to carry soldiers and haul supplies into battle. We are, after all, the sinews of the empire. And this fear, this tension, sends ripples through the calm of our world, reminding us of the fragility of peace.
The Gathering Darkness of Winter
The nights grow longer now. A hush settles over the village, the days a bit shorter and colder, yet thankfully, our work is less demanding. Now it’s a time of respite, resting, grooming, enjoying the company of our fellow horses, as the bitter winds howl outside.
It’s in these moments that I feel most thankful. For my cozy stable, a mound of sweet hay, the warmth of companionship with the other horses in my stable - there’s no greater comfort than sharing these long winter nights with our little equine family.
Winter is also the time of stories, recounted by our groom, who often speaks of history and legends - tales of brave knights and daring exploits, stories of great empires and forgotten civilizations. He speaks of emperors, powerful and cruel, yet driven by an insatiable hunger for power, leading vast armies across Europe, and all the chaos they unleash. And of brave defenders, resisting, sacrificing themselves for the freedom of their land.
I don't pretend to understand it all, the machinations of emperors and kingdoms, but it's clear this world is constantly in motion, always seeking a new balance. It is a comforting thought, knowing that even in the deepest winter, life always finds a way to thrive and bloom anew.
A Moment of Peace
But what truly matters to me are the everyday things. The kindness of the stable hands, the gentle brushing of a groom's hand on my coat. The warmth of the hay, the taste of a juicy carrot. The company of Roderick, my sturdy cart-horse companion. And the feeling of deep contentment, as the sun, even if faintly, peeks through the clouds on a winter's day.
Life is simple. Life is beautiful. And, most importantly, life is full of unexpected beauty.
As the world spins around us, we, the horses of Hayfield, are here, playing our part, contributing our strength and our spirit to the great tapestry of life. We are the silent partners, the unseen workforce that keeps the wheels of the world turning.
I am Emma, a simple, but content, grey draught mare from Hayfield, and I am living in a year that will go down in history, a year etched in the hearts of men. And as the year closes, and winter lays its icy grip over our world, we horses will be here, standing strong, our heads held high, a testament to the timeless beauty of a simple life, and a powerful hope for a peaceful future.
Until next time, stay safe, my dear equine friends. And may the winds of change blow softly upon your world!
