Hello, lovely readers! It's Emma here, your trusty guide through the fascinating world of equestrian history.
Today, I'm taking you back to the year 815. A bit of a jump in time from our last exploration, I know, but time seems to flow a bit differently in the history of horses, wouldn't you agree?
Anyway, I'm settling in here in Hayfield, just outside Aberdeen, to bring you all the news of the year 815 from the perspective of a young draught horse, me, Emma. Now, for those of you new to my blog, I'm a grey mare, standing just over 16 hands high, with a long, flowing white mane and tail that's always a sight to behold (if I may say so myself).
Today, we're stepping back to a time when the world was still young and wild. Let's set the scene, shall we? Imagine the smell of heather and damp earth, the sight of rolling green hills dotted with ancient cairns and stone circles, and the feel of the wind rustling through your mane as you stand proudly on the windswept Scottish plains. That's what Hayfield was like in the year 815 - rugged, beautiful, and full of possibilities for a horse like me.
Now, you might think life back then was all work and no play, but that's simply not true. The year 815 saw a blossoming of equine-human interaction that we wouldn't witness again for many years. This was a time when horses were held in high regard, their strength and loyalty revered.
My days were a blend of toil and joy, you see. I'd be harnessed to a cart laden with grain or hay, working alongside my fellow draughthorses, feeling the strain of the load but also the pride in getting the job done. It's a feeling unlike any other, the knowing that your strength contributes to the success of your community.
And then there were the rides! I remember one particularly exhilarating afternoon, I was pulling a cart filled with local women and their children to the nearest village for a market day. The journey was long, and I was quite proud to be their loyal steed, a symbol of their connection to the land. I could feel the sun on my back, the wind whispering through my mane as I walked briskly along the winding path. The rhythm of my gait lulled the women and children into a sense of quiet peace, the gentle swaying of the cart transporting them to another world for a few precious hours.
At the village market, it was like stepping into another dimension altogether. Everywhere I looked, I saw humans, not just our farmhands and local families, but bustling merchants and farmers from distant parts of the country. Some of them came to see our lovely draught horses, admiring our size and strength. Others sought to buy from us, loading up our carts with spices and fabrics and other worldly wonders.
As I stood there, watching the humans bartering and buying, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. We, the horses, played an important role in this whole scene, and I was happy to be a part of it.
And let's not forget the playful side of things! We had our own little horse-games in those days, too. There was a spot by the river where a few of us youngsters would meet for some horsing around (pardon the pun!). We'd gallop in a big circle, snorting and kicking our hooves in the air. I still miss the carefree joy of those days.
Now, I wouldn't want to paint a completely rosy picture. The year 815 also held its challenges. We horses had to be wary of raiders from across the sea, men with hardened hearts and an unsettling thirst for conquest. Their presence filled the air with a tension that unsettled even the strongest horse. And then there were the winters, bleak and harsh, forcing us to hunker down for warmth and safety.
Despite all these challenges, however, we learned to adapt and persevere. We were the strong backs, the steady hooves, and the loyal companions who helped the people of 815 survive and thrive.
One specific event stands out from that year: the arrival of the Viking ships in the port of Aberdeen. A lot of our locals were terrified, fearing an invasion. I, for one, was quite curious. I wasn't scared like many were. It was exhilarating! I had a feeling things would be different after their arrival. The ships themselves were awe-inspiring, large and swift, crafted from sturdy timber, boasting colorful sails adorned with mysterious symbols. I saw them in the harbour, with the sun sparkling off their polished wood, a vibrant splash of colour against the dark granite cliffs of the coast. It seemed like something out of a fairytale.
There were lots of rumours swirling around town – some good, some bad – but what mattered was that they brought with them a whole new array of goods and ways of living. We horses certainly weren't forgotten! These people needed transportation too, and for them, a horse was an asset, a key part of their daily life. I saw Viking men working their horses to pull sledges and transport goods over land. They brought with them strong, sturdy steeds from colder, wilder climates – a contrast to our own, sleek, powerful breed. We watched, studied, and compared. Some even said there were glimpses of 'flying steeds' that seemed to defy gravity. But that, dear reader, is a tale for another time...
All in all, the year 815 was a year of change. It was a time when our little world of Hayfield, so connected to the land and the rhythm of the seasons, began to feel a slight shift. I could sense a new era dawning, an era of exploration, trade, and interconnectedness. And as for us horses? Well, we were at the heart of it all, ready to play our vital role in this new adventure.
So there you have it, my dear friends! A glimpse into the year 815 through the eyes and hooves of a horse. And if you enjoyed this little peek into history, come back for more! I'll be posting regularly, bringing you all the fascinating facts and stories from the past.
Until next time, keep your heads up, stay curious, and let the power of horses inspire you!
Yours in equine history,
Emma.
P.S. Visit EquiWorld.org to learn more about our amazing horse history!
