Posted on: EquiWorld.org
Blog Entry #908
By: Emma, the Grey Draught
Well, my dears, it's Emma here, your trusty grey mare from Hayfield, back with another chapter from the Equine Chronicles. This time, we're taking a trip back to the year 908, a year that found me galloping through fields of lush green barley, my hooves pounding a rhythm against the fertile Scottish soil.
The air in Hayfield, you see, was always crisp and clean. Even though our lives were a world away from the fancy city folk and their carriages, there was something magical about the simple routine of life on our little farm.
But let me tell you, 908 was a busy year. The king was in a tizzy about a raid, something about Viking invaders. Apparently, they were all the rage back then - you couldn't move for them, much like you can't move for that new fad with the horseshoes being painted, although I'll be the first to say it does make the hooves look much more splendid, especially in those bold greens and oranges, don't you think? But I digress, this is all a bit off-topic.
Anyhow, my Master, a kind man called Duncan, who is known to talk to the horses – a charming man, really - told us all about it. He would spend hours in the stables with us, telling us about all sorts of things, but particularly loved to talk about his family and his worries about the king's safety. That kind of worry doesn't really penetrate a horse's mind, mind you. A little oats, some hay, and a good roll in the meadow is what we horses consider 'safety'. But we were loyal, and always listened patiently, enjoying the warm and fuzzy feeling in the stable as Duncan shared.
The real focus of the year was, as ever, farming. This involved hours of labour. Ploughing the fields in preparation for planting oats and barley - it's grueling work but oh, so rewarding! You can smell the earth, feel the fresh wind in your mane, and it just makes you want to work even harder, knowing the fruits of your labour are so vital.
The men also had this new invention - a heavy iron plow. They couldn't have planted all the barley for our horses and ourselves without it. It felt like magic watching that thing work, and then it was just such a thrill to be pulling it along and feeling so strong! And even though it was hard work, the rhythmic motion of the ploughing was deeply satisfying and relaxing. A good hard day's work is a good way to make you tired enough to sleep soundly at night, I say!
Now, a lot of the news in 908 did focus on that Viking business, of course. Our little corner of Hayfield was thankfully far from their raiding paths, but the murmurs of war would seep through even to our peaceful valley. You'd hear the farmers talking about it at the market in Aberdeen, which we used to travel to every couple of weeks. Now, if I were to tell you the tales of the bustling market, it would take me weeks to describe them properly! I can tell you that Aberdeen Market is a kaleidoscope of colours and scents and smells, and it's full of exciting life! We were a big part of that excitement. I love hauling the goods in and out of town on my carriage, getting to see all those horses. Some big lads like myself, and some pony's with tiny, nimble legs. You wouldn't believe the lengths that some folk will go to decorate these magnificent beasts! They add things to their harnesses - shiny ornaments, bits of feathers - and sometimes even bells, but these are a bit loud for me - they're not to everyone's taste.
908 was also a great year to be a draught horse in Hayfield, particularly if you liked good, wholesome food! You could always rely on some scrumptious oats or a delicious bucket of barley. It’s hard work keeping your energy up when you're pulling plows or carting all those goods to the market. I particularly loved that sweet, warm barley when it was freshly made. You see, we weren’t treated like those ‘carriage horses' who were fed only bread and sometimes fruit.
The whole year was punctuated with lovely summer evenings when we could wander freely around the pastures, a delightful and invigorating activity to fill the long evenings, a lovely reward for all those hours of work.
I even had some new friends – I am getting quite popular, you know! It was fun meeting other horses on the roads, as well as my fellow Hayfield stables. A lot of them were in the same business of transporting things from A to B, and often we would chat about life, the perils of transport, and of course, our favourite feed - my new friend Rosie even got a little piece of apples from her owner, although we both knew that wouldn't last forever. I did wonder why she only got one piece... Maybe they are meant to be for horses in a more glamorous life - Rosie had a carriage of her own, something that didn’t just cart goods to market, but that seemed to do more interesting things like go to balls in Edinburgh... Oh, the tales she’d tell! I could have listened to her for hours - what a life that girl had!
And of course, there was nothing better than galloping freely in those fields - my grey coat blending with the shades of green, my white mane and tail streaming in the wind. Those were the days! I would never have traded those moments for the world.
Now, we did have a slight tragedy in 908 that touched all of us - there was this poor mare from next door to us - her name was Molly - and she got hurt. The farmers told us that it was an ‘accident'. We knew nothing more about it. It happened during the summer. And it left all of us pretty sad for quite a while.
We also saw many interesting things travelling on the roads that year. There was that magnificent grey stallion with a brown and yellow saddle. And that gorgeous white filly, just a little colt really, trailing behind a gentle-looking black horse with the most amazing man who could play music by blowing on something made out of metal and hitting a piece of skin with a stick! You can tell I'm a bit out of date, but these are just the terms that we horses used, so I can’t help you there! He called his instrument a 'pipe’ and the stick a ‘drum’ if you can believe that! You can bet the whole market was attracted by the lovely sounds of that music - so soothing and relaxing, especially at the end of a long day.
908 was indeed a year of plenty, despite the occasional wartime talk and the sad event of poor Molly. As we worked hard in our peaceful valley of Hayfield, we looked forward to the next year and all that it would bring. I hope this little journey into 908 AD has been interesting for you, my dear readers. If you have any questions about horses in this period, or any other historical year, please do feel free to leave a comment!
Your ever-loyal and chatty grey mare,
Emma
