Hello, lovely Equine friends! Emma here, from my cozy stable in Hayfield near Aberdeen. It’s been a bit chilly these past few weeks, but the spring is in the air, and the days are starting to stretch out a little longer. My favourite part of the year is about to arrive – the wildflowers will soon be dotting the rolling hills, and the grass is just starting to get that fresh green look, perfect for munching on.
Today, I thought I’d take you on a little journey through the life of a working horse in the year 600 AD. This blog is my way of sharing stories of our history, a shared heritage of all equine folk, from the fastest Arabian steeds to the mightiest draft horses like myself.
We horses have been a vital part of human life for so long, that our story is interwoven with theirs. It feels quite grand to think that way, especially as I look around my peaceful farm in Hayfield. It’s such a quiet, tranquil place now, especially in comparison to some of the bustling places I’ve travelled through during my long years on this earth.
I was born a bit late in my family’s history – just a few months before 600, actually. Back then, I had to grow into my purpose. The most exciting thing in my life as a foal was seeing my elder brother being trained to plough the fields. I loved his gentle snorting as he felt the familiar feel of the wooden yoke on his neck. It meant I was growing bigger and stronger every day, which meant I would eventually join him.
Life for a farm horse in Hayfield was, and still is, pretty routine. Up early, a good munch of hay before the farmer’s whistle starts, then a bit of work, back to the stable to be groomed, another good hay ration, then sleep. Sounds rather boring, doesn’t it? Not really though! I love working on the fields. You see, each field is a little adventure in its own way, especially in the summer.
Back then, our little village was nestled in a hidden valley – the Scottish Highlands can be so dramatic – and we all knew each other so well. It was a close-knit community, even between humans and horses, and we relied on each other. That feeling of togetherness was especially important around the harvest time. I remember pulling the wooden cart full of heavy sacks of grain – it was backbreaking work but so satisfying to see the sacks going into the communal storehouse, knowing it meant that winter would be comfortable and well-fed.
During this time, we horses were also used for transport – you see, roads weren’t that great back then – they were often just rough trails, or dirt tracks leading from farm to farm, but they allowed the farmers to travel, barter, and connect with other villages, trading oats for salt or other valuable items. The life of a travelling horse, especially with a cart loaded with valuable goods, felt quite dangerous, I have to admit! But these trips, as arduous as they were, also gave me glimpses of the world beyond Hayfield. It was through those travels, I heard about bigger villages, like Edinburgh, which was on the other side of the country – the farmers told me there were bigger carts pulled by even bigger teams of horses, that delivered even larger amounts of food and goods. I never actually made the trip myself, but these stories always felt like tales of the world beyond Hayfield – fascinating and almost mythical, they ignited my imagination and fuelled a deep desire to roam.
However, those were tales from the distant past – 600 AD is our focus today, right? Our story then wasn’t much different – there were so many different uses for us. I often remember that my friend, Fiona – a gorgeous chestnut mare – worked in a field of a different kind, that is, as a war horse. That’s right, some horses were trained to be warriors – some were used to carry soldiers and some were actually ridden directly into battle. Scary thought, isn’t it? But Fiona always swore it was glorious.
We horses can sense fear, that’s why we often get startled by sudden noises. So when there’s war in the air, we feel it – it makes us uneasy, almost like a tremor running through the land. Fiona described the thrill of racing across the battlefield, carrying her rider on her back. Of course, we're built for carrying heavy loads, but this was carrying the responsibility for life or death, which makes you feel brave and heroic. I always knew she’d be back in one piece – Fiona had an iron will and a strong instinct for self-preservation.
However, a lot of horses weren't chosen for war. Back then, a majority were still working on the farms, tending the land, transporting food and supplies, and doing essential work to sustain human lives.
In fact, one of the most interesting things happening in the world of horses around 600 was the way humans began breeding and selecting horses specifically for certain tasks. Think of it this way – my great, great, great grandfather had a stronger back than most horses, so they chose him to mate with other strong-backed horses. That’s how they started to improve our lineage! That means there were different types of horses evolving for different tasks. Imagine that! You’d see stout draught horses like myself, nimble horses being bred to pull carts, fast ones for the chariot races – the Romans were absolutely crazy about their races!
Even though they don’t necessarily have the prettiest faces – horses who pull plows in the fields, strong, thick-legged, heavy-chested and tough as they come – we are very important. I love feeling the satisfaction of a day well-spent working alongside the farmer, feeling the strength of my legs, and watching the seeds turn into green shoots under the sun, we are part of the rhythm of nature, of growth, and of life itself.
Anyway, I hope this has been an enjoyable and insightful journey through the eyes of a humble draught horse like me. As the days stretch out, and the weather gets warmer, my life may seem pretty straightforward, but the peace and the contentment here in Hayfield fills my soul, especially when I'm amongst other horses and hear the clip-clop of hooves on the fields. We may not be in the midst of battle, we may not be the chosen war horses, we may not have traveled the vast world, but I wouldn't trade my life here, my love for the familiar rolling hills and the smells of hay and fresh earth for anything else. I am a contented horse.
See you next time, my fellow equines!
Love, Emma
PS. Do leave your thoughts on my blog at www.equiworld.org – I’d love to hear from you all, whether you are from Hayfield or a farm across the world. Tell me your favourite place and the most important part of your horse-life. Remember – we all share a common heritage and that’s something beautiful and worth cherishing!
