Hello everyone! Welcome back to my little corner of EquiWorld.org, where I, Emma, a proud grey draught mare with a mane as white as the driven snow (although, here in Hayfield near Aberdeen, the snow's more grey than white most of the year!), share my thoughts and musings on all things equine.
It's been a busy month, and not just because I've been hauling stones for the new farm building (those pesky humans can never seem to have enough structures, can they?). But it's more than that - the whole world seems to be humming with a special kind of energy.
As a 20-year-old mare, I've seen my fair share of change. I've known times of hardship, times of plenty, and times of simply "carrying on". But something feels different now, a feeling of a great shift, a rumbling anticipation in the air. It's the sort of thing that makes even a seasoned farm horse like myself stand a bit taller and prick up my ears.
But before I go on about all that, let's rewind a bit. It's been a whole year since the Great Storm - a monstrous blizzard that hit Scotland in 895, and you wouldn't believe the havoc it wreaked! Farmers lost their hay, their livestock was scattered, and even the most sturdy barns succumbed to the furious winds and blinding snow. The villagers were terrified, and I won't lie, even I felt a pang of fear at the ferocious weather. Thankfully, it only lasted a couple of days.
And just like that, springtime rolled in. We felt its breath in the morning mist, saw it bloom in the lush green shoots pushing up through the thawing earth, and heard it sing in the songs of the birds that returned to the orchards. The entire countryside felt reborn, as vibrant as the cherry blossoms gracing the farmstead.
With spring came the joy of work again - though thankfully not as heavy as winter’s, hauling firewood. Our work now was filled with hope and optimism - preparing the fields, pulling ploughs, and carrying sacks of seeds. I’ve always loved this time of year. It reminds me of my foaling - the warmth of the sun on my coat, the scent of blooming meadows, the thrill of freedom.
This year, the energy around this work seems a little... different. The humanfolk seem to have more vigour in their steps, their words carry more authority. Maybe it's just my old mare-wisdom, but the whole world feels...bigger somehow.
Now, I’ve been chatting with the other horses - young colts full of mischief and spirited mares with their own wisdom - and the talk around the stables has been quite exciting. Everyone seems to be buzzing about some “Viking” folks who’ve been spotted near the coast. Imagine! People from faraway lands with tall ships and long, bristly beards, fighting like... well, like you wouldn’t believe. But then, it turns out the Vikings haven't exactly invaded or come for our land. They've more of a wandering spirit, some kind of explorer attitude, you see?
What they want and why they’re here is a bit of a mystery, but the tales of these tall, blonde warriors reaching the far shores of our little island, are stirring the imagination of everyone from farm boys to weathered farm horses like myself.
Of course, for a mare like me, what’s truly exciting about these Vikings are their horses. I've heard whispers about strong horses - taller than most of our Scottish stallions, with sturdy legs built for riding, powerful shoulders, and flowing manes! They apparently aren’t afraid of any sort of journey, carrying these fierce warriors over hills and valleys, across icy seas and scorching sands. You could tell a tale about them for days!
There's another thing I heard about these Viking horses, but I won’t divulge that part just yet! That’s for a future blog post, full of exciting anecdotes about these fascinating and mighty creatures. After all, there’s always so much to discuss when it comes to our beloved equine world, from local gossip to the exciting whispers of journeys on the winds of change.
Keep your eyes peeled for the next post, and until then, stay well and enjoy the sweet whisper of the spring wind in your mane,
Your affectionate, grey, and white-tailed mare,
Emma
