Hello, my fellow equines and equine enthusiasts! Emma here, a grey draught mare with a flowing white mane and tail, residing in the beautiful, windswept fields of Hayfield near Aberdeen in Scotland.
As a 20-year-old, I’ve lived through a good number of seasons and witnessed plenty of changes, both on the farm and across the wider world. Today, I’d like to share my musings about the year 864 AD, a year that has been both challenging and rewarding for me and my kind.
The weather this year was rather fickle, I must say. It started with a long, hard winter. The ground was frozen solid, making it difficult for us to graze. I remember huddling close to the other horses, our breath puffing out in white clouds, as we endured the icy nights. The stable was warm enough thanks to the ingenuity of the farm folk, who were constantly tending the fire and replenishing the straw. But we yearned for the green grass, the lush meadow that beckoned beyond the frosty fields.
Finally, spring came with a burst of vibrant colours. The air grew sweet, a symphony of chirping birds replacing the chilling winds. It felt like a brand new beginning. The fields bloomed in hues of yellow and purple, a feast for our eyes and our appetites. My muscles ached with joy as I grazed contentedly, the sunshine warm on my coat.
My work remained mostly the same, pulling the plow through the fertile earth, helping to cultivate the fields for crops. We draught horses are a strong, sturdy breed, and the farmers depend upon us. As they toiled beside us, I often pondered their worries. They were concerned about Viking raiders who had recently arrived in parts of England and Scotland. Some people told stories about their ferocity and the battles that raged, claiming their horsemen and steeds were swift and deadly. But here in the peaceful, green fields of Hayfield, we still felt the weight of hard work and simple routines.
However, a change did come with the arrival of a new stallion, a majestic black beauty named Odin. Odin came from the lowlands, where his previous master had sold him, and was now looking for a new home. He was a strong, noble horse, with a keen eye and a powerful presence. The other mares, and even I, found ourselves strangely drawn to his confident demeanor. We were told he came from a lineage of warriors, the famous Celtic ponies, renowned for their speed and agility. Odin certainly was both handsome and impressive. He had a wild streak, a flash in his eye that set him apart. While he didn't engage in brawls or violent clashes, his mere presence exuded an aura of fierceness.
The old farm horse, Angus, grumbled at the new arrival, suspicious of Odin's unusual coat and swagger. But Odin soon proved himself worthy of his place in the stable. He was willing to learn the farm routines, a dedicated member of our community. The farmer had a keen eye for character, as well as horse flesh, I believe.
We spent many days grazing side by side, discussing our experiences and philosophies. Odin spoke of ancient battles and legends passed down through his bloodline. His stories about Celtic horsemen, their bravery and fierce loyalty to their comrades, filled me with both wonder and admiration. He said they used horses in their war chariots, driving them swiftly into battle. He had heard tales about the mighty chariots, adorned with intricate designs and driven with skill and determination. Those were different times, a long, long way from here in peaceful Hayfield.
In the warm embrace of summer, the harvest was in full swing. We worked tirelessly alongside the humans, our muscles straining as we pulled laden wagons. The aroma of hay filled the air as we transported it to the barns, preparing for the long, cold winter months. We felt a sense of pride, a sense of purpose, knowing we were making a difference in their lives.
Our lives were simple, our days filled with routines, but we felt a sense of contentment and gratitude for the lush green pastures, the soft straw beds, and the gentle hands of the humans. They respected our contributions, cared for our needs and gave us rest and rejuvenation when required.
However, news arrived about a raid in a village on the other side of the loch. We overheard whispered conversations, the urgency in the humans' voices. They talked about needing to strengthen their defenses and how, although Hayfield was isolated and peaceful, we needed to be prepared. A few brave men set out to join the fight, determined to protect their village and families. Their faces were drawn, but their resolve strong. They carried the spirit of Odin, who whispered tales of their ancient Celtic forefathers, ready to fight alongside them in battle. We, the farm horses, could only stand in silent awe. We weren't bred for fighting but for the tasks that nourished them all.
As autumn approached, the colors shifted to reds and golds, the harvest gathered and stored away for the long winter months. There was a chill in the air, the winds whispered tales of storms to come, and we horses prepared to welcome the coldest part of the year. My old, dear friend, Angus, couldn't quite make it through this cold, final winter, his tired body succumbing to the frost. We felt a pang of sadness, as if a part of the farm had faded away. The old barn felt lonely without his presence and gruff yet comforting voice.
The passing of Angus gave me time to reflect on the cyclical nature of life. While we work diligently to prepare for winter, a different kind of struggle was taking place within the hearts and minds of humans. Their worries, concerns and uncertainties, sometimes reflected on their own horses. They needed us, yes, but they needed something more – the camaraderie, trust, and love we gave freely.
We horses have learned a simple but profound truth throughout the years: every season, whether summer’s warmth or winter’s chill, brings its unique challenges and opportunities. Our role as horses is to serve, to support, to work diligently and carry burdens. We learned this by our nature, and that connection with our humans and the world around us.
My memories of 864 AD are still fresh, imprinted upon my heart, reminding me of the interconnectedness of life – of our own simple yet powerful contributions. As I finish this blog post, my heart swells with hope for a peaceful, productive new year. Let's carry on, strong and healthy, always looking towards a brighter future.
Until next time,
Emma, Hayfield
