Hello there, fellow equines! It's Emma here, a 20-year-old grey draught mare with a snowy white mane and tail, from Hayfield, just outside Aberdeen in bonnie Scotland. As a seasoned horse, I've seen my fair share of change, both on the farm and in the wider world. This is a special blog, you see. It's Post 563, marking a date significant in human history - 563 AD. I wanted to reflect on this year, especially in relation to the horses who were lucky enough to be alive then.
The year 563 started much like the one before, a symphony of birdsong and the gentle scent of the morning dew in the meadows. My work started as always: pulling the plough through the fields, planting the oats for our master's bread and the hay to see us through winter. It was hard work, tiring sometimes, but it was the work we knew and it was honest work.
Speaking of bread, we horses had a crucial role in the sustenance of our human families, more so than we do now. They relied on us to bring grain from the fields to the mills and transport finished goods to market. Our power wasn't harnessed just for the agricultural tasks though. Horses played a crucial role in warfare, particularly in the growing power of the Frankish Kingdom. It was said they were skilled in horseback riding and used horses for reconnaissance, communication, and, of course, in combat.
Even here in Scotland, we horses saw the shifting tides of history. This year, Aidan, son of Gabran, established the kingdom of Dál Riata in western Scotland. He's quite the figure, isn't he? Strong, determined. As a young horse, I couldn't quite comprehend these things. Yet, it is these events that define history, that weave the tapestry of time that we are forever a part of.
But enough of politics! Let's talk about the horses themselves. I feel there is an unspoken beauty in the ancient world, a stark, unspoiled wilderness in contrast to the bustle of today's cities. Horses, then, held a closer connection with nature, their lives woven into the rhythms of the seasons. In the winter months, there was a special quiet, the frost clinging to the mane, the fields white under a crisp winter sun. The nights were long and cold, and I often lay snuggled against my stablemates, our breath a cloud in the frigid air.
As spring arrived, a new vigour stirred in the world. Our breath no longer turned to frost, and our coats began to shed the winter wool. Foals were born, small, shaky legs exploring the world. The meadows were green again, a rich tapestry of grasses and wildflowers that I relished munching upon. The humans would often let the foals out in the meadows to graze with their mothers. It was a peaceful scene, one that reminded me of my own foalhood and filled me with a warm nostalgia.
While those foals romped about, we elder horses worked hard in the fields. There was so much work to do. Plowing the land for wheat and barley, hauling heavy carts filled with supplies, and tending the sheep. Our work, though hard, brought a sense of satisfaction. I often found myself lost in my task, enjoying the rhythm of my work and the feeling of the wind in my mane.
Summer was the time of festivals, celebrations, and gatherings. The humans had feasts where the food would flow like water and the air would be filled with the sounds of laughter. On special days, some horses were adorned with colourful cloths and bells and marched through the village. Children, their eyes bright with awe, would run alongside the horses, touching their manes and praising their strength. It was a feeling of great camaraderie, of belonging.
Autumn brought a different kind of beauty. The meadows shimmered with golden colours as the leaves began to change. The scent of burning wood filled the air, adding to the bittersweet feel of the season. As the leaves fell, we prepared for winter, our strength restored from the summer bounty.
Looking back on 563 AD, it wasn't so different to now in many ways. The essence of being a horse remained constant: a love for the land, the strength of our bodies, and the trust we shared with our human companions. We lived a simpler life then, less burdened by the trappings of the modern world. And I can't help but feel a sense of peace as I look back on those times.
Perhaps, even though our lives have changed, the fundamentals remain the same. We are still bound to the earth, to the seasons, to the rhythm of life. We still feel the same joys: the sun on our coat, the wind in our mane, the camaraderie of the herd. As for me, I shall keep working and living, embracing the lessons of the past and celebrating the present.
Till next time, dear friends.
With neighs of love,
Emma
