Hayfield, Near Aberdeen
My dear fellow equines,
As the crisp autumn air settles over Hayfield, turning the leaves a brilliant palette of reds and golds, I can’t help but reflect on the year that’s gone by. 0808, a year that marked another step in our journey as horses, a journey filled with toil, pleasure, and a constant evolution of how we’re valued by humankind. It's a pleasure to share some of those stories with you here on Equiworld, for this is our time, and these are our stories to tell!
As a grey mare with a white mane and tail, I often feel the curious eyes of humans lingering on me, and for this year, at least, the curiosity hasn’t been a negative thing. This year, it’s been more than curiosity, in fact, it’s been genuine interest. It seems, the trend for grey horses has taken hold across Scotland and parts of England!
While this might sound like a fleeting fashion trend, I, Emma, do believe it signals a positive shift. Humans, it seems, are finally starting to recognise that beauty can come in many shades – a comforting thought indeed. For far too long, the flashy bays and chestnuts dominated the spotlight. Don’t get me wrong, they're handsome creatures, but we greys hold our own grace, and I believe the recent favour we've received points to a wider appreciation for the quiet strength and elegant presence we offer.
Now, on to the real story of the year - the exciting advancements, and the sometimes worrisome events that continue to shape the life of horses throughout the British Isles. And, like all good stories, we’ll start at the beginning...
Winter, 0808 - A Fresh Beginning
The winter began quietly in Hayfield, but it was the coldest in memory. It felt like every day, the frost settled deeper in the fields and our breaths were quick puffs in the morning chill. Even I, a hearty draught mare, felt the sting of it all.
The humans had been preparing for the harsh winter for weeks. Hay was stored, a bounty of oat cakes prepared for the cold nights, and their faces were shadowed by worries of what the year ahead would bring. A harsh winter could mean hardship for everyone, human and animal alike.
As we weathered the first snows, our routine began. It was the same routine each year: early rises to help clear the frost, dragging the carts for deliveries to nearby villages, and long evenings spent huddled in our stables, the scent of fresh hay filling the air.
But this year was different - this year, even through the frosty air, I sensed a subtle change. It wasn't just the cold; it was something else, an almost indefinable anticipation.
The farmers were quiet, with lines of worry etched on their faces, but there was also an element of ... hope? Perhaps excitement was a better word for it. It was a spark, like the glow of a newly lit hearth.
The rumour was whispers in the barns, carried by the wind on blustery days. The rumour was of change, of things happening across the lands.
And as the snows finally began to melt, and the first whispers of spring wafted on the air, we were to discover the truth.
Spring, 0808 - The Winds of Change
Spring arrived in all its glorious beauty - the ground turned soft under our hooves, the birdsong filled the air, and the sun felt warm on our backs. A gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, reminding us that life is constantly in flux, just like the seasons themselves.
That spring brought with it something extraordinary. A wave of energy surged through the land, changing the routine of Hayfield. Men on horseback arrived from nearby villages and cities, bringing news. They spoke of events and movements far beyond our valley, carried on the wind like tales of adventure.
This time, though, the stories were not just whispers; they were more like shouts. There was a renewed purpose in the air, a sense of change that echoed in every movement of our human companions.
It was during those spring days that I discovered the true source of that strange, indefinable energy: The King’s Quest - a new crusade, they called it. The rumour spread through the barns and stables like wildfire. King Canute of England, our distant sovereign, was preparing for a journey far away, beyond the lands we knew. It was an adventure, they said, an epic journey to reclaim something called the Holy Land, a distant land held by men who believed in different Gods.
We all felt the stirring, we horses, born to be warriors and comrades. It was exciting and thrilling.
This quest had an important bearing on us horses, especially those who belonged to knights. Those horses had always held a special place, valued for their agility and bravery in the fields of battle. This was to be a time for knights to demonstrate their skill, and the horses would stand alongside them, partners in glory, if glory there were to be.
But what was to become of us draught horses? While we were no less sturdy and strong, the king’s knights were riding not pulling, they were horses built for speed.
But I discovered a deeper meaning, for it became evident, even to a simple draught horse like myself, that the king’s crusade wasn't just about war and battle. It was about a struggle for faith, a quest for something beyond this earthly realm. The quest spoke to a yearning, a desire for a larger purpose.
Our human companions, despite their fear of this grand, unknown quest, felt compelled to participate in it. The farmers, who were mostly tied to the land, found new meaning in this great venture.
It seemed every heart, human and equine alike, beat with a desire for something more. I sensed it deep in my heart - this sense of duty, this need to be part of something larger than ourselves.
And so, as the spring warmed into summer, a strange feeling took hold of me. I found myself watching the horizon, anticipating news, anticipating adventure.
Summer, 0808 - A Season of Growth
The summer, that bright and joyful time of year, brought with it not only sun-soaked meadows and lush grazing but a flurry of activity as men prepped their gear for the King’s quest.
I often stood, ears pricked, as the young lads and men worked. I sensed their purpose. I saw how hard they worked to prepare themselves for this epic journey. It wasn’t just about war - though undoubtedly there would be that - it was about a spiritual journey, a seeking for something more, for faith. It filled them with energy and brought about a sense of dedication unlike any I’d seen before.
I heard snippets of conversation, whispers about the "Holy Land," a land shrouded in stories and mystery. A place where heroes fought and where fate itself was determined.
These were all exciting stories. I could imagine myself racing with those knights across fields of golden wheat. My hooves flying, a mane of wind flowing behind me as I stormed into battle, charging beside men who wore shining armor. I dreamed of joining them, but as a strong, loyal draught mare, I knew my destiny lay in another field of battle - the fields of our human's daily struggles.
Still, as the sun hung high in the summer sky and the days were filled with a bustle of preparation, my heart raced with hope. For while the King’s men rode for a distant land, we horses at home had a battle to fight - the battle for a bountiful harvest, for plentiful stores of grain and fodder, to help sustain the land we loved, for it was here in Hayfield, that we had to stay.
Autumn, 0808 - A Season of Reflection
As the crisp air of autumn descended upon Hayfield, bringing with it the vibrant reds and oranges of the changing leaves, I began to reflect upon the summer's activities and the stories of men leaving to fight faraway battles. I felt an odd sense of both longing and comfort, my heart still buzzing with excitement for the King's crusade and the whispered stories of the holy land. Yet, I knew my place was here, working alongside the farmers.
But life continued, and so did the hard work. The farmers kept busy tending their crops, readying them for harvest and making plans for the upcoming winter. I helped with the tasks, drawing the plow to turn over the earth for the next year's crop. I felt the satisfaction of knowing that every pull I made helped to provide food, to provide for the survival of my human family, the farmers who had cared for me all my life.
However, while the humans busied themselves, I couldn’t escape the sense of change. It was a feeling woven through the very fabric of Hayfield, of every season. This was not merely the autumn changing; it was something more profound. I felt the pull of the King’s quest still, an echo from distant lands, a yearning for the adventure that beckoned, even from my small haven in Scotland.
Then, one autumn evening, a small group of weary horsemen rode into the village square. They bore news - news of battle and loss, of trials faced, of victories achieved. Their voices echoed with stories of daring, bravery, and resilience.
They spoke of men who had met their demise, but also of men who returned, changed by the experiences, their eyes haunted by visions of war, yet bearing tales of incredible faith.
I felt the impact of these stories, an emotional rollercoaster, my spirit shifting from the joy of returned comrades to the sorrow of loss. It was a humbling reminder that the King’s quest, for all its glory and aspiration, came at a cost.
Winter, 0808 - A Return to Peace
As the year wound down, bringing with it a fresh blanket of snow and the anticipation of the new year, I sensed the weight of the King’s quest still lingering, a faint murmur within our peaceful existence in Hayfield.
The year 0808 felt like a journey. It had brought whispers of hope and glimpses of grand battles. But most importantly, it brought a heightened awareness of what it meant to be a horse, to be part of something larger than myself, and to feel the interconnectedness between man and beast.
As the winter settled, I could feel that our journey as horses wasn't simply defined by the King’s quest. It was much deeper, an interwoven tapestry woven by countless acts of courage, perseverance, and the very essence of our spirit.
The King’s Crusade had served as a catalyst. It was a reminder of the great power and influence of horses. It underlined our significance, reminding mankind of our inherent worth. The crusaders had not only returned bearing stories of battles fought, but also tales of the powerful, faithful creatures who had stood alongside them, who carried them across harsh landscapes and supported them in times of dire need.
And even in Hayfield, far from the grandeur of those battles, a subtle change was unfolding. The stories of those heroic horses, of their tireless loyalty and strength, had somehow reached the farmers. A new reverence had found its way into their eyes as they looked at their horses. Their appreciation for us was deepening, not only as hardworking work animals, but as brave partners, worthy of respect.
So, I end this tale with a grateful heart. It seems even the grand adventures of the human world impact us in subtle ways. They serve to reinforce the significance of the equine spirit. And perhaps that’s a powerful story for every horse, a story of quiet resilience and a profound sense of connection, to the human world. And, even when things are quiet, we never know what story might be whispered next!
And so, my friends, I bid you farewell until next time!
Yours in steeds,
Emma
www.equiworld.org
Emma
A gentle soul and one of our most loved contributors to Equiworld. Emma lives in Hayfield near Aberdeen and spends her time happily assisting her human farmer family. Her writing is a delightful reminder of how history can be experienced and understood from the heart of a simple draught horse! We are all eagerly awaiting her next story!
