Hello, my fellow equines! Emma here, a proud grey draught mare from Hayfield near Aberdeen, Scotland. Welcome to another installment of my humble equine history blog, where we travel back through time to uncover the tales of our equine ancestors and celebrate their role in shaping history. Today, we journey to the year 802 AD, a time when my kind, the sturdy, dependable draught horse, were truly the backbone of civilization.
This year feels rather ordinary compared to others. The Viking raids that had been terrorizing the North Sea coast for the past couple of decades seemed to have calmed down somewhat, thankfully, bringing a sense of peace to the countryside. Thankfully, my hardworking farmer, William, wasn't forced to pull our plows into the unforgiving battlefields of a raid. The quiet, peaceful murmur of his humming as he works the field, alongside the gentle clack of his plowshare hitting the ground, were a much more preferable sound to the bloodcurdling screams and clashing metal that we all fear.
Life in Hayfield, as always, revolved around the seasons and the tasks that came with them. Spring, with its awakening earth, brought a fresh smell of life to our nostrils. We worked the fields, pulling plows with strong, steady paces, turning the soil ready for planting. It was a tiring time, the days were long and the sun hot, but William and his wife, Mary, made sure to give us plenty of hay and oats to keep our energy up. They were the kindest of folk. Mary always spoke softly to us, her hands brushing gently down our necks as she fed us, the sound of her voice calming the anxious nerves we sometimes feel during these busy periods.
In Summer, the days lengthened and we continued our tireless work, pulling wagons of grain to the mills, and helping the villagers haul lumber to build new homes. But we were always given time to rest in the cool shade of the large oak trees lining the meadow, watching as the sun dipped low in the sky and casting a golden glow across the rolling green hills. Our bellies were full, thanks to William's thoughtful and constant care, and our spirits lifted by the occasional friendly graze with a fellow horse, sharing tales of the day's work and our favourite meadow wildflowers.
Autumn brought a change in the air. We breathed the crisp air, savouring the change of season as the fields transformed into vibrant colours, a canvas of golds, reds, and oranges. It was time for harvest, and we pulled wagons loaded high with precious grain. I love the feel of the crisp autumn air blowing through my thick mane, whipping into a swirling, white flurry around me as I pull. The strong aroma of freshly cut barley fills my nostrils as I work, filling me with a quiet satisfaction, knowing that I contribute to the well-being of the village.
As the chill of winter set in, and the days grew shorter, our work slowed. We helped to bring firewood to the villages and pulled carts carrying food for the livestock and their families. But our primary job, as always, was to stay healthy and strong, prepared for the demanding days ahead. The icy air meant William brought us an extra measure of hay and a generous portion of barley. The warmth of the stable was a welcome refuge, the company of other horses bringing a sense of comfort and community during these cold, short days.
It was a typical year for most of us horses, and that, honestly, was exactly how we wanted it to be. We did not yearn for excitement, rather the steadiness and rhythm of farm life, the satisfying routine that kept our bodies strong and minds content. The love and care we received from William, Mary, and the rest of the village meant more than words could ever express. This quiet, reliable existence was enough.
However, life is not without its surprises, even for us working horses. I, for one, found myself participating in a journey that, while not grand and warlike like those described in tales of knights and chivalry, held its own kind of excitement and wonder.
Late in the summer, our village was abuzz with talk of a new trade route that William had heard of in Aberdeen. It involved travelling a long, winding path to the east, carrying supplies to distant villages, and bringing back exotic goods in return. William had not only volunteered to carry his wares, but was chosen as a leader in the small caravan of tradespeople that was to embark on this perilous adventure. He felt that it was essential to take some of his hard-earned profit and give back to the villagers who had supported him, and so, he vowed to use some of the trade revenue to rebuild the crumbling roof of the local church. This journey, therefore, meant a lot to our whole village, not just William and his family.
Being a working horse, a grey draught at that, is all about strong work ethic and loyal companionship, and this trade route journey proved just that! Imagine, fellow horses, the journey we made: the cobbled roads winding through ancient forests, crossing emerald meadows dotted with wildflowers, and climbing over rugged, wild, majestic mountain passes. We saw rivers flowing fast and wide, and rolling fields, all painted in a palette of green, blue, brown, and white. We even encountered the great, awe-inspiring expanse of the North Sea, feeling the wind whipped through our manes, the salt air carrying the promise of adventure. It was something we horses could only dream about!
Of course, there were challenges, just like every journey, especially on the roads that we ventured on. They were often treacherous, riddled with loose rocks and fallen trees that we carefully navigated, testing our strength and patience. Some parts were lined with wild, rugged forest landscapes that forced us to focus, making our strides strong and deliberate to stay clear of thorny bushes and gnarled trees. We were truly at one with nature. We experienced the beauty of this world on such a vast scale, something no farmer's field could offer! We horses love the feeling of our bodies strong, sturdy, and able to tackle even the most demanding routes!
But despite the tough days, I felt the camaraderie and unity within the caravan. Each one of us horses worked tirelessly to support our drivers and ensure a safe journey. And oh, the food was incredible! Not only did our drivers ensure we had enough food, water, and rest stops, they always treated us to delectable fresh pastries, fresh-baked bread and sometimes, on especially special days, even tasty pieces of honeyed cake! These little rewards reminded us, despite being far from our homes, that we were deeply valued for the vital part we played on this adventure.
One of the most fascinating experiences was trading for spices and fabrics from the distant land beyond the mountains. It was quite magical watching as our drivers swapped locally harvested grains and goods for these strange, exotic offerings! They said that these came from places so far away, across the seas, places called India, and the Levant!
What did we learn from our journey? First, that the world beyond our Hayfield was bigger and more wondrous than we could ever have imagined. Second, we learned to trust each other, fellow horses and drivers alike, during these unpredictable adventures. We realised, together, we could conquer anything, and there is power in numbers, something we hadn't quite realised before. We were so used to being part of a smaller, local group of working horses. We had learnt the hard way that, although teamwork is always important, having a sense of camaraderie with strangers from beyond our usual village had brought us great strength. This strength has brought us to our most profound and vital lessons. The lesson is, every horse, whether from the Hayfield or elsewhere, can find their own unique place and purpose within a team.
The caravan returned in late autumn. The whole village cheered us, celebrating with their voices raised, and thanking William for the work he'd done and for remembering their need to rebuild their beloved church. His donation made this act possible. We horses enjoyed their happiness, and also realised just how valued and respected we were, the mighty draught horses, in a world of smaller, nimble horses.
The church repairs commenced right away. This was followed by the feasting and celebrations the whole village would enjoy. And of course, they took such great care of us, providing extra hay and oats, even more than usual, so we could regain our strength after a tiring journey. The rest we enjoyed was something no words can describe, the feeling of deep peace that washes over us when we are no longer travelling.
In all the tales of history, it's usually the noble warhorses and their majestic strength that take centre stage, the proud steeds carrying gallant knights to victory. But let's be honest, my dear equines, who really made the world turn? Who powered the world in this year 802 AD? It wasn't the cavalry thundering through battlefields; it was the steady, hard-working draught horses, like me and my comrades. It was our tireless work in the fields, the relentless toil in transporting supplies and hauling goods, that built civilizations and nourished communities.
This is our story, fellow equines, the story of the humble draught horse, the forgotten heroes of a forgotten time, who paved the way for future generations. And although our journey this year wasn't filled with the grandeur of knights and dragons, it holds a unique kind of beauty, the quiet satisfaction of being a part of a hardworking community that helped build a world, stone by stone, grain by grain, a journey at a time. Until next time, friends, stay strong, work hard, and remember, our stories deserve to be told, too!
Signing off, Emma.
