A Grey Mare's Perspective: Life in the Year of the Great Harvest
Hello my fellow Equine friends!
Welcome back to Emma's History Corner! It's me, Emma, a lovely grey mare with a splash of white in my mane and tail. Today, I'm whisking you back to the year 704. I've got tales of rolling fields, sturdy ploughs, and bustling markets, all tinged with the warmth of a Scottish summer. We’re going to step back in time and see the world from a horse's eye view – let’s go!
Now, in 704, the world was a different place from our modern world. But you know, there’s still something about the rhythm of the hooves on the ground, the feeling of the wind on my coat, and the taste of the fresh morning air that still feels pretty familiar!
I was born and bred in Hayfield, a beautiful little village just outside Aberdeen in Scotland. I was lucky enough to be a draught horse, you know, one of those sturdy fellows built for hard work. Imagine a solid, grey frame, powerful legs, and a thick coat that would make a snowstorm jealous! I, with my flowing white mane and tail, was considered a pretty fair specimen of the breed. My sire, old Samson, taught me everything I needed to know about pulling carts, hauling heavy loads, and taking a snooze under a tree when nobody was looking!
Back in those days, horses were more than just our lovely furry friends, you see. We were a part of every aspect of life – transport, farming, even the building of the settlements! We pulled the carts for farmers going to the markets, hauled stones for construction, and even helped bring home supplies from the woods. You could say that we were the "workhorse" of society (no pun intended, I assure you!).
And 704 was a year of plentiful harvests, oh what a joy! The barley fields of Hayfield swayed gently in the summer breeze, like a sea of golden grain. You could almost smell the promise of bread in the air, I tell you! Our farmers would work tirelessly from dawn till dusk, turning over the earth and tending to the crops. Our part was pulling the sturdy ploughs through the soft earth and providing the power for the winnowing fans. I used to love that, feel the power surging through me, the weight of the soil turning, the feeling of a good day’s work completed.
It was during one of these busy harvests that I had my first real brush with the outside world. A passing merchant, a cheery chap with a broad grin and a booming voice, needed a horse for his wagon. It seems his old nag had a bad leg and couldn’t bear the strain of travel. Well, I was full of strength, brimming with energy, and raring to see what lay beyond our fields, so I stepped up!
I'll never forget that first journey! The wind whistled in my ears as we left Hayfield, the cobblestones beneath my hooves giving a steady beat like a drum. The sights, oh the sights! Lush meadows giving way to rugged landscapes, sleepy villages nestled in valleys, the ever-changing scenery was like a thousand paintings coming to life. The world unfolded before my eyes, vast and enchanting!
Along the way, I met some fellow travelers, mostly horses of course. You see, people back in those days travelled a lot, at least more than the folk these days. Every now and then, you’d meet someone else at an inn, a village square, or even by the side of the road! We would share stories and gossip, you know, just as our human companions would, although we obviously did it in our own way. There was Old Barney, a sturdy chestnut with an eye for beautiful fillies (and for that tasty green stuff at the side of the road, that he most certainly wasn't supposed to be eating!) Then there was Bonnie, a bright bay with a sassy gait, who seemed to have an endless store of local lore and tales. She was always boasting about a grand stallion she knew who had fathered half the colts in her county. Oh, you wouldn’t believe what stories these old mares have!
The journey lasted for what seemed like ages, but time flew by when I was on the road. The rhythm of my steps, the companionship of other horses, and the sights that filled my world each day were enchanting! You know, a good old fashioned ride is always the best way to truly discover the world!
It was a bit of a struggle pulling the cart with all its heavy merchandise - chests of cloth, bundles of leather goods, even a small crate full of spices that tickled my nose with its strong aroma. I’m talking some serious hard work, I assure you. You’d find me taking every opportunity for a nap in a cool meadow while the merchant was busy, with my ears twitching to every passing sound, alert to any possible danger. But those are the risks you take on the open road.
You see, those days were a mix of thrill and toil, with adventure always just a hoof-beat away. When I was travelling, it felt like every single day brought something new – a different path, a different village, different stories, a whole different kind of life from the peaceful routine of Hayfield. It was during that journey I met the young groom, James. Now James wasn’t just your average farmhand, oh no! He had a deep love for horses, a quiet gentleness about him, and he always brought me apples when no one else was looking. We weren’t anything more than friends of course, it wasn’t as though a horse could be "dating" in those days, but it was a special bond between us. We’d share long silent moments by the stables, me napping under a haystack, and him stroking my back.
One time, during our travels, we found ourselves at a bustling fair, with a whole line of merchants and entertainers. And boy, did they have some fabulous horses there! From beautiful Andalusian steeds, graceful and sleek with their flowing manes and tails, to sturdy Breton ponies that looked ready for the next battle. There were even camels and oxen, which, to me, were an odd and wonderful sight! But for all the excitement, you know what they say - there's no place like home. I think after weeks on the road, I missed my field, the gentle breeze whispering through my mane, the feel of soft grass between my hooves. And when we finally reached the city of York, it felt like I’d landed in a whole different world – noisy, bustling, with a dizzying jumble of buildings and smells. There, the merchant’s wagon was loaded with fine goods and he exchanged them for others from local artisans. The exchange took several days, giving me an opportunity to have a taste of urban life. Oh, to see all the people, horses pulling heavy wagons full of merchandise and a continuous hum of activity - an enchanting mix of organised chaos!
After the bustle of York, I felt like it was time to get back to the quiet of Hayfield, and James seemed to be feeling the same way. You know, some of us horses are made for adventures, some are content with staying home - I definitely am the latter.
After that, the life of a workhorse was mine again, hauling carts to market, bringing in wood from the forests, and pulling plows across the fields. I settled into my routines - long stretches of hard work in the morning, and delicious oats followed by a nap under the oaks as the sun made its way high in the sky.
Yes, 704 was a memorable year, full of change and discovery. From the golden fields of Hayfield to the bustling marketplace of York, it broadened my world. I still remember the thrill of that first journey, the feeling of the wind in my coat, and the warmth of the sun on my back. And I learned that, regardless of where you go, what matters is the joy of a good, honest day’s work, and the companions you make along the way.
Until next time, keep those hooves happy!
Emma, The Grey Mare from Hayfield
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