Hello everyone,
Emma here, a grey draught mare with a heart as big as my strong shoulders. It’s been a while since I last wrote - busy year! Today I want to share what’s been happening here in my world. Let’s rewind to the year 541 AD - a time when horses like me were busy doing the jobs that made this world go round.
Living here in Hayfield, nestled near Aberdeen in the Scottish highlands, life for me and my fellow horses was fairly simple. My days were filled with the satisfaction of honest work - helping our human friends in a thousand ways. I'm the daughter of two hard-working draught horses - my father was the strongest on the farm and my mother was renowned for her beautiful, thick, black mane. Thankfully, I inherited their spirit, and a dash of their elegance, with my long, flowing white mane and tail - I'm often the star of the show, wouldn't you say?
Each morning, the sun's gentle warmth on my coat rouses me from slumber, and I hear the rhythmic jingle of harness bells as our human companions, the farm folk, prepare for the day. There's a sweet sense of shared purpose between us, horses and humans, you know? It’s all about teamwork, dedication, and mutual respect. We rely on each other and care for one another - the humans provide food and shelter, and we, in turn, give them our strength and the ability to move, to haul, and to build. It’s a bond as strong as the finest steel.
The mornings begin with us pulling the heavy plough, turning the rich earth in preparation for the barley and oats, so important for the people. The air is crisp with the scent of the dew and fresh-turned soil. Sometimes, we’ll go off into the woodlands and help harvest timber. It's a gruelling task, dragging those heavy logs, but it's also incredibly satisfying, watching our collective strength transform raw wood into strong, sturdy planks, ready for building homes, bridges, or even mighty ships that will brave the mighty sea.
Afternoons are usually for transportation. Our human friends trust us with carrying loads of goods, their produce, or perhaps even the children for school. It's quite a sight, I must admit, to see me pulling the wooden cart full of fresh barley, rolling through the vibrant landscape towards the nearby village, or perhaps carrying a precious load of newly crafted swords to the blacksmith's workshop in the next town. We're their reliable friends, and they respect us greatly, which fills us with a sense of pride and honour.
I remember a particular day, so vividly, where we were transporting grain for the baker. Now, that baker, a man named Finn, always gave us extra oats - he knew how much we enjoyed the nutty, sweet flavour, and he would watch us munch happily, knowing that we deserved the best. He’d chat to us and stroke our faces, telling us stories about his travels and adventures. That was special, seeing a human like that. He truly valued horses and respected their hard work. It’s not surprising then, that we all took immense pride in being Finn's loyal helpers.
Every evening, we return home to the familiar stables, the smells of hay and warmth welcoming us like a loving embrace. After a long day, we gather together, exchanging tales of our adventures, sharing a delicious meal of fresh hay, oats, and maybe even a sprinkle of leftover barley from the human's dinner! There's always time for a little grooming too - those humans are very good about that! I always love having my coat brushed and shining, it's relaxing and I look especially fine with all that soft hay dusted off!
As the day winds down, and the first stars appear in the velvety darkness of the Highland sky, I feel a profound sense of gratitude for my life here. Sure, we work hard, but there is nothing like the feeling of the cool breeze in our manes as we race across fields with our human companions. They, too, deserve our thanks, because their care and kindness fuel our spirit.
I have heard some whisper tales of the world outside Hayfield. Stories about mighty armies travelling on horseback, carrying swords and banners high, bringing glory and battles to lands far away. Stories about the famed war horses in the Roman Empire, steeds who fought bravely, some who even had beautiful barding – that’s a kind of harness decorated with colours, like art!
But me, I’m happy to stay here. I like the peace and quiet, and I know the role I play here in Hayfield is just as vital as those of those great war horses. We're all part of the bigger story, and the heart of the story beats strong with the love of nature and the quiet courage of work, family and the simple life. It is through that simple life that we find beauty.
But there's much to learn beyond Hayfield, so who knows what the future may bring. One thing is for certain – wherever we are, horses continue to be the embodiment of strength, loyalty, and the beauty of nature, always by the side of our human friends, moving together through the great tapestry of time.
That's all for today. I'll be back next week, with more tales from the life of a working grey mare, in the year 541 AD.
Until next time, Emma.
