"Neigh" say you, "Emma? How can a horse write a blog post, let alone one from the year 956? *You'd be surprised! *Just imagine: If a horse could type and was connected to the internet...
Well, this is my little slice of the past, my personal glimpse into the world of horses back in 0956. I'm Emma, a proud grey mare with a white mane and tail - you might call it "flashy" for a draught horse, but I think it suits my spirited personality. I was born and raised in Hayfield, a beautiful village near Aberdeen in Scotland, nestled amongst the rolling green hills.
Let me tell you, 0956 was a busy year for us horses, bustling with activity! Every day was an adventure, filled with new discoveries and encounters. But before I jump into our daily lives, I must say it's quite the leap from my comfy straw-filled stall here at the stable in 2023 to imagining how things were back then. I bet the hay tasted different and I don't even want to think about the lack of horse-specific shampoo! The joys of progress, I suppose.
Life in 0956
We horses, back then, were much more than just majestic creatures grazing in fields. We were our masters' lifeline, their tools for survival and progress. In my case, life was mainly dedicated to the fields. I belonged to a farmer's family, and my days were spent hauling heavy ploughs through the soil, transporting heavy loads of goods, and assisting with harvests. You might say, my life was about pulling my weight! It was tiring work, and our meals were often just barley and oats, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It gave me a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging within the community.
Now, let me tell you, you can't truly grasp the essence of 0956 without understanding the importance of kinship and community. We were like a single heartbeat, working in unison, our lives intrinsically connected. Every morning, our neighs would echo through the stable, a gentle chorus announcing a new day. It was the start of a symphony, a grand display of interconnectedness that echoed through the fields and into the nearby village.
From Dawn to Dusk, a Symphony of Action
Each day, dawn would break with the rumble of the wooden carts being prepared, the crisp smell of hay, and the chatter of the farmhands. The rhythmic stamping of hooves against the cobblestone pathway was our morning greeting, a familiar sound that set our souls aflame. We would pull and tug, straining with each breath, sweat mingling with dust and our hooves leaving their imprints on the hallowed earth.
Mid-day would bring the warm rays of the sun, the scent of freshly cut hay filling the air as we hauled bales to the stable. Then, finally, came the cool evening breeze. We'd gather around the watering trough, sharing tales and experiences with the other horses - tales of daring leaps over ditches, encounters with foxes who dared to challenge our strength, and whispered stories of mythical creatures lurking deep in the woods. Each day brought a new adventure.
Life Outside the Farm
I was also fortunate to be taken to the nearby town market a few times a year, a cacophony of sound and activity. We carried the produce from the farms to be sold, our rhythmic breathing providing a soothing melody amidst the boisterous chatter. The bustling markets were a spectacle! I remember being mesmerised by the intricate textiles on display, the aromas of baked bread and honey, and the spectacle of villagers haggling for the finest produce.
One particularly exciting event happened on one of those market trips. King Edgar was visiting the area. You could tell from the people's excited whispers. We were asked to pull his carriage and oh, was he grand! It was such an honour to pull his grand chariot. My whole body thrummed with the energy of the journey, the cheers of the crowd invigorating us.
But beyond the daily chores and the grand events, there were other adventures to be had. I fondly remember the long treks across the rugged hills with the shepherds. It was a magical experience. The wind would ruffle my mane, the heather blooming in shades of purple and pink, and the bleating of the sheep a soothing counterpoint to the wild rhythm of the mountains.
The Horseman's Companionship
In this world of shared purpose, I made friendships for life. My favourite friend was a handsome chestnut named Rowan. We would share tales of our adventures, our bodies nuzzling, our spirits connected by an invisible thread of shared experience. Rowan was the most gentle horse I knew, strong and surefooted, a constant source of comfort and encouragement during challenging times.
He wasn't always by my side, as his owner, a valiant knight, often travelled to distant lands, participating in tournaments, displaying his skill and courage on horseback. Rowan's stories would enthral me, tales of bravery and loyalty, tales that kindled a fire within my own spirit.
The Knights in shining armor, wielding their lances and swords, would often practice near the fields, and their powerful horses, majestic and proud, would inspire awe within me. There was something captivating about their fiery energy, their skill and determination – they truly embodied the strength and grace of a horse.
And then, of course, there were the steeds of the royal court, graceful and agile. These noble animals often participated in grand processions and royal hunts, showcasing their intelligence and stamina. It was quite a sight, and they filled me with an undeniable sense of pride and respect.
Echoes of the Past
Today, as I look back on those days, a comforting nostalgia washes over me. I see myself in the powerful, hardworking draught horses, in the courageous steeds, in the proud animals of the court. It's a legacy I carry within my heart. I am, after all, a horse, connected to a long lineage, carrying a proud tradition.
Now, even though life in the 21st century is very different, my memories still hold their own special charm. I may not be hauling carts or participating in jousting tournaments, but I do find a connection with the history of horses through my role in the equestrian world.
My favourite days are the days spent at shows and competitions. The cheers of the crowd, the clink of the harness, the shared understanding with my rider - there's a powerful feeling of belonging.
The world of horses has evolved. It's true that we have access to better technology and more comfortable stables. We have veterinary care that can heal almost any ailment. Yet, at our core, horses haven't changed much. We still have the same instinct to run, to leap, to be wild and free. We still form strong bonds with our companions, share secrets with each other, and revel in the beauty of the world around us.
The 10th Century, for a horse, was a life filled with hard work, adventure, and community. While my life is different today, I still take pride in being a part of the legacy.
So, if you see a grey mare with a white mane and tail, and a spark of mischief in her eyes, you'll know it's me, Emma. I'm still the same horse at heart, a living, breathing part of the incredible story of horses throughout history.
Remember to follow me at Equiworld for more tales from my horse history journey! What have you learned about the history of horses? Tell us in the comments section!
