The year is 0946.
The heather is purple, the air crisp, and the wind sings through the oat field behind our stable. It's a beautiful day for a horse, even if a bit nippy, but then again, I'm a Grey Draught, and we thrive in this sort of weather. My name is Emma, and as usual, I’m back with another entry for my little blog on www.equiworld.org.
Today, I’m reflecting on 0946. It was a quiet year for our family, mostly. The fields around Hayfield, near Aberdeen, yielded a hearty harvest of barley and oats. There was enough to feed us horses, and the sheep who shared the pastures, and even to make sure the miller in nearby Peterhead had enough grain to grind. You see, these are peaceful times in this corner of Scotland. The Vikings haven’t been around much these days. They usually appear like storms, quick and brutal, with their longboats full of eager warriors, but it seems they’re occupied with affairs down south in England, thankfully.
Now, some folks around here think that 0946 was just another ordinary year in the annals of horse history. They see my kind – my grey brethren with the sturdy builds and strong backs – as workhorses, beasts of burden, essential but unremarkable.
But let me tell you, even the most unassuming life can hold incredible stories. Today, I'm here to remind everyone that horses like me are woven into the fabric of life. We're not just powerful machines with strong legs. We're sentient beings, each with our own personalities, quirks, and stories.
In the year 0946, for instance, there were plenty of whispers of grand things happening on the continent. I even overheard one travelling merchant mention a "new religion" spreading from the heart of Rome. He called it "Christianity." He described a man, born long ago, called Jesus, and claimed that he offered a path to a better life, with forgiveness and grace. It sounds a bit mystical to me, and as a horse, I tend to keep my thoughts closer to the ground than the clouds. But even in our small corner of Scotland, things were shifting, like the tides slowly turning.
And what did I get up to? You may laugh, dear reader, but you see, 0946 was the year I turned 20, and yes, that was a milestone worthy of celebration! We were having a barn party, you see. A proper bash with oats and hay in abundance and an entire field reserved for galloping and rolling in the soft, warm soil. It was glorious!
Of course, we can’t always be frivolous. We are horses after all, and our responsibilities are many. The days started early, with the sun creeping over the hills. It’s a bit chilly for this time of year, but I pull the cart, filled with harvested oats to Peterhead every few days. There is much work for us, my grey brothers and sisters, with ploughs and carts and a steady hand guiding the sheep for shearing and moving them to new pasture.
I don’t just tell you stories of our daily chores. That wouldn’t do our kind justice. It’s about more than that, you see. Our life is connected to human history, entwined with the flow of days and seasons. It's the whisper of our hooves on cobblestones, the rumble of carts carrying goods and people across muddy paths, the warmth of the sun on our coats.
It's the feeling of unity and purpose that connects all of us, from the village blacksmith, the families who feed and shelter us, and even the little girl who, after helping her father gather the sheep, throws me a handful of fresh apples to nibble on.
For a horse like me, the beauty lies in the everyday, in the simple rhythms of life, in the connection to the earth. I see the sunrise painting the heather a golden hue. I hear the croaking of frogs and the distant chatter of the birds as I pull the plough through the rich, dark soil. I feel the earth tremble beneath my feet as I gallop across the meadows, my mane and tail flying in the wind, my heart full of pure joy.
Here are some highlights from the world of horses in the year 0946:
Breeding: While my Grey Draught lineage remains robust, it is important to acknowledge other breeds are making their mark. There is the Shire in England, strong and large, used primarily for farm work and carting. I heard rumours that in distant regions of Europe, the Arab is admired for its endurance and speed. I suspect this type will continue to gain popularity for its grace and adaptability.
Training: The way we horses are trained, however, doesn’t seem to change drastically from generation to generation. A firm hand, gentle guidance, and lots of patience – that’s what works best, at least here in our neck of the woods. We learn by mimicking, by following the lead of older horses, and sometimes, there is nothing more effective than the human's voice and gentle touch to get the message across. I confess I rather enjoy training. There's a sense of accomplishment, like weaving a tapestry, stitching together movements with every learned skill.
Warfare: Sadly, warhorses, though magnificent beasts, have played a part in our history, carrying knights and warriors onto battlefields. It breaks my heart to hear the stories of bravery and loss, of these noble creatures meeting their fate in the heart of conflict. Yet, even in war, they embody courage, strength, and loyalty. Even though I’m a workhorse, deep within, I understand their purpose. War is not something I can fully comprehend, but the stories of those horses remind me of our enduring strength.
Healthcare: Although it seems simple now, the year 0946 is a turning point in some regards. Folks have started understanding the need for keeping horses in better condition. More focus on regular farrier work and proper care is becoming essential to ensuring longevity. Our human counterparts are realising that a healthy horse is a productive horse, capable of serving their needs for longer. It’s heartening to see that care for us isn’t merely out of sentiment, but also rooted in a need for longevity and usefulness.
So there you have it, my equine friends, a peek into the life of a Grey Draught in 0946! It was a simple year, much like many others. I am still the faithful workhorse I have always been, serving my human companions, carrying my share of responsibility for the well-being of my family and the small community we call home.
However, it is the simplicity of such an existence that I cherish, for it’s the simplicity that breeds deep contentment.
Till next time, dear friends.
Stay curious!
Emma
(The Grey Draught Horse, Hayfield, Scotland)
