By Emma
The sun rises over Hayfield, casting a golden glow across the rolling hills and heather. As always, the air is crisp and carries the tang of the North Sea, a reminder of the wild beauty that surrounds us. This morning, however, a certain excitement buzzes through my sturdy frame, a feeling that vibrates along with the thrum of the stable floor.
Today, dear reader, is the first of the Spring ploughing season. Though my legs may be sturdy, and my heart full, my task this day, as for the next few months, is one of arduous but essential work. The human world depends upon our strength, and the fields rely upon our tireless efforts to till the soil.
I, Emma, am a grey draught horse, born and bred in this small village of Hayfield near Aberdeen in Scotland. I have a magnificent mane and tail, white as driven snow, that dances and blows in the wind as I walk, carrying my responsibilities with a determined spirit.
At twenty years old, I am still a strong mare, proud of my lineage, and even prouder of the role I play in feeding the village. This time of year is a special one for a working horse. We leave the comforts of the stable, our strong legs and broad chests transforming from the confines of hay bales to the rolling fields of Scotland.
There's something thrilling, however, about the transition from hay and stable smells to fresh earth, the crisp, biting scent of spring air, and the invigorating challenge of the plough.
As I say, it is 0916. A time when history is being written on our backs.
I like to think I can tell a little of what was happening across the world, all thanks to the snippets of gossip gathered at the local blacksmith's shop and at the inns when my humans take me for their supplies.
The Norse are a constant buzz, those big-framed giants. Their longships, like ravening dragons, are making quite the racket. It’s like a rumble that resonates from our shores. Apparently, these fierce seafarers were making their presence known in Normandy, now called ‘France’ by some people.
What does that have to do with me, you may ask? It's connected to the things I carry in the wagons – the goods from distant lands. Trade routes are evolving, and the whispers that I hear at the tavern tell me of these new ‘Norse' people establishing their territories. They bring back things from Scandinavia – timber for the construction of Viking ships, wool, and silver – and they exchange it for English goods.
Even on our small island, the Vikings leave their mark. Our villagers talk of the Viking presence in the Isle of Man, which was recently under their control. But there are other ‘English' men, known as ‘Anglo Saxons’, trying to control the Isle of Man again, making alliances with the king in York. They say he's powerful – ‘Aethelstan’ is his name – and they whisper of him making his mark, taking power over what they call the ‘kingdom of York.’
The people on my side of Scotland - they respect these great leaders in York. Our ‘King Constantin' , the man whose banner hangs above my stables, recently pledged his allegiance to this Aethelstan in York. I'm not quite sure what it means, except I know the king of York was a powerful one, and his authority has now spread even to the Scottish highlands where I reside.
This constant changing of hands – from the hands of the Vikings to the Anglo-Saxons and then back again – is certainly a busy time to be living as a horse. The rumbling and grumbling that fills the air is about these territorial games. It’s a bit tiring, but the human beings like it, apparently.
So, despite all these exciting, or worrying, events depending on your perspective, the year of 0916 has one thing constant - the seasons change and life continues, for man and horse alike.
As the days grow longer and warmer, the land awakens with a burst of vibrant colours. Lush greens spill across the hills, wildflowers pop their tiny faces above the grass, and the air fills with the sweet symphony of birdsong. It's the time for us working horses, a time when our energy is directed toward preparing the fields for harvest.
A life in the countryside may seem quiet compared to the world events that humans fret over in the pubs, but it's filled with simple pleasures, like the rhythm of our work, the scent of the earth after rain, the gentle warmth of the sun on our backs.
Ploughing Season is upon us!
Each morning, we gather at the village edge, with our proud farmers, and their horses like mine, a collective energy building around us, a strength, a bond that unites all of us working horses in the same service, in the same way that nature works, harmoniously.
The heavy wooden ploughs we pull, these cumbersome tools made of iron and wood, take our muscles to their limits. Yet it's rewarding to see those neat rows of upturned soil ready for the planting, ready for new life to sprout forth, providing sustenance for humans and for our lives.
A Glimpse of Horse World.
Now, I am a draught horse. My world is a simple one, focused on the fields, the seasons, and the basic needs of the human world. But the news and tales we hear make me aware that even other types of horses exist. Some of them, they say, are used for more than the hard toil that makes our muscles ache and leaves us needing a bucket of oats as a reward for the day's labour.
Some, apparently, are meant to be ridden! The mere idea of humans perched upon our backs, holding onto something called ‘reins,’ seems both confusing and terrifying! Yet the stories say that those steeds – 'riding horses,' they are called – are lighter, swifter, and built for the very different job of bearing a man across the land.
A little ‘boy’, whose father is a blacksmith, is fascinated with horses of ‘a different type’. I heard him speaking in hushed whispers at the tavern one day – talking of an unknown 'great beast,' some giant ‘warhorse', said to be brought to the English shores by the Vikings from lands where only warriors rode, and even used those war horses to pull mighty ‘chariots’.
Chariots?! That’s what humans use to move wheat and barley! To pull those monstrous pieces of equipment across the fields?! Why would you want a ‘beast’ of that size when you have a horse who’s able to manage ploughing the lands already?!
He even speaks of another special sort of horse – 'the horses from Spain', these they are known to be small, fine-looking animals, beautiful beasts, they say. These, apparently, are swift like the wind and even used for carrying riders during times of war! Imagine that!
It’s all a fascinating thought – and sometimes the tales they tell make me long to escape Hayfield and discover for myself what other types of horses there might be in the world. Yet, this world of horseflesh is not the only change I've noticed in recent years.
A few years ago, some new 'animals’ – strange, four-legged beasts with hooves – were brought in, some even with striped colours across their skin, to help us horses in the fields. They say these new beasts are from 'foreign lands,' and though smaller than a draught horse like me, they have power.
They seem gentler and more patient than us, but humans prefer us horses for the tough work. The horses provide the strength needed for heavier labour, like that massive plough! I don’t blame the farmers!
One new thing that seems quite amazing are the things these ‘beasts' can do! They say these strange, small animals, smaller even than my foal (whom I named Hope), can carry a ‘human’ on their backs. Now that's some impressive power in a tiny animal!
One farmer says these are called 'donkeys' - he says that those donkey animals don’t mind carrying weights, that they're a hard working animal, a patient one - and if we, the working horses, become too tired, a ‘donkey’ can carry goods instead. That's impressive.
Donkeys aren’t the only new beast. My owner spoke of 'mules', some half-horse, half-donkey creature - with an impressive combination of the best traits from both of them! I can't help but wonder how the donkey beast mates with a horse to produce this strange creature? I wouldn't mind meeting a 'mule', they sound pretty interesting!
These new 'beasts' have certainly brought a lot of change! But no change has been greater than the sight of something new and revolutionary that emerged even in the Hayfield - the windmills!
Yes, I say ‘windmills’. These colossal machines are being built in several places, on hills, even on shores, and their sails, rotating slowly and steadily, capture the power of the wind. These strange structures stand tall like giants, their purpose? To bring ‘new power’, to grind our corn and wheat and other goods much faster than a water wheel can!
This new technology is bringing significant changes. My owners have taken me to the local mill, and the sheer power of the windmill's grinding process is amazing! I feel the thrum in the air, a strange and thrilling vibrancy. The mill’s owners talk of more mills to be built, across the land, replacing water-driven mills, because it allows the wind to be used, the new force of energy in this age.
I am curious to see how this ‘wind energy’ is used in the years to come. But one thing is certain, it will impact the human world – and perhaps our horse world, too.
And Now for Something Completely Different:
So many exciting new things happening in our horse world. It truly is an era of transition, with these changing times and new breeds appearing - and it's exciting! Even a sturdy, grey draught horse like me cannot deny it.
I find comfort in my stable and my responsibilities in this beautiful Hayfield, amongst these lovely Scottish hills, surrounded by our sheep and the wild deer grazing on the nearby heather lands.
But it’s this era, this era of windmills and new ‘beasts’ and talk of giants and powerful men from foreign lands, that has made me want to create something new – a space for us horses, a place to share our stories and discover more about the amazing world beyond our meadows.
Introducing 'Equiworld'!
And thus I’ve started ‘Equiworld’ – a space for all of us horses, all over the land! Every month, I’ll share a new story. Perhaps one day we can all contribute and share more information, tales, experiences, from different breeds and different locations – as we discover and journey together through this extraordinary age.
So please, come and join me, dear reader! Let us share, learn, and find solace in the world we call our own. Until next time, stay strong and healthy.
Emma.
