Greetings, fellow equines and horse enthusiasts!
Emma here, a twenty-year-old grey draught mare with a flowing white mane and tail, hailing from the beautiful countryside near Hayfield, just outside Aberdeen. Today, I’m sharing my perspective on the world of horses in the year 0997 AD. Now, I know it might sound strange for a horse to be writing a blog, but bear with me, this is a rather extraordinary tale!
My life here in the North of Scotland is a gentle one. I spend my days pulling the heavy wooden plough through the fields, preparing the earth for the barley harvest. My strength is my greatest asset, and I take immense pride in my work. My human family, the McGregors, are good people, kind and patient. They understand that a horse needs rest as much as they do, and they’ve provided a sturdy stable with thick straw bedding and enough oats to make even the most picky horse happy.
Life in 0997, for horses, isn’t always a picture of hay and sunshine, though. My old friend, a beautiful bay mare named Skye, was bought from a travelling merchant for a princely sum, destined for a life of riding with a nobleman. Skye, with her nimble feet and fiery spirit, dreamed of speed and freedom, galloping through vast meadows and leaping over fences. Though it pained her, she adjusted to her new role, even taking pride in the magnificent attire she was adorned with and the elegant rider she carried.
News travelled through the horse world faster than we imagined in those days. We received word, carried by the wind and shared through travellers, that there had been great battles fought south in England. This resulted in many strong horses like myself being shipped down to help the kings and warriors in their struggles. Sadly, some of my brethren met their demise on the bloody battlefields. We were not created for such violence, yet it was our destiny to serve the humans in their conflicts.
Despite the darkness of warfare, hope shone bright in the equestrian world of 0997. A wave of new innovations swept through our lives. In the more fertile lands of Southern England, farmers began to harness the power of the windmill. Now, thanks to the clever inventions of men, we were relieved from the drudgery of grinding corn. Imagine my relief! No longer did I have to toil endlessly, my weary limbs strained and sore from turning the heavy grindstone. It was a blessing to witness our human counterparts taking charge of this tedious task.
Another revolutionary development was the introduction of a new saddle design, known as the "selle." It was far more comfortable and secure than the previous wooden and leather ones. I remember when the first “selle” arrived in our village, all the horses crowded around the blacksmith's workshop, eager to see and touch this new marvel. Even the most stubborn, old geldings found themselves intrigued by this innovation. The comfort and security it provided was immeasurable, giving a new sense of freedom to those of us who travelled long distances on the backs of our riders.
0997 was a time of significant change, but even amidst it all, some things remained constant. Every year, the Scottish people gathered for the "Equestrian Games," a vibrant celebration of all things horse-related. These Games were more than just races; they were a time for community, storytelling, and the showcasing of horsemanship skills. We would be groomed to a gleaming shine, our manes and tails braided intricately. The entire village would be a whirlwind of laughter, feasting, and horse-related merriment.
I distinctly remember the "Dressage Competition" of that year, an exhibition of a horse's obedience and grace. This was a competition I dreamt of entering. But alas, my stout legs and large body weren't made for intricate movements. Instead, I relished in the sheer power and majesty of the dappled grey stallion who claimed victory that year. He moved like a graceful dancer, his movements a testament to his training and partnership with his human companion.
Despite my strong work ethic and size, I dreamed of something more than just ploughing the fields. On calm evenings, when the sun would set on the heather-clad hills, painting the sky in shades of gold and orange, I'd stand gazing at the faraway hills. They were a promise of unexplored landscapes, of wind whistling through my mane as I galloped freely, a vision of adventure, perhaps even joining the wild horses who roamed those majestic landscapes. But alas, those dreams were confined to the realms of my imagination, for I was a farm horse, and my duty lay in the fields.
During one of these wistful evenings, an old, experienced mare named Daisy approached me, her grey coat speckled with the wisdom of years. "Don't you dare, Emma," she said, her voice raspy yet kind, "Let the wild horses run free, but appreciate the calmness of your life here. Not everyone is as lucky."
Her words held truth. We were blessed, my human companions and I. We shared a deep understanding and mutual respect. They appreciated my strength and dedication, while I thrived in their care, surrounded by their warmth. I found a different kind of freedom, not in running wild but in working alongside my human friends. In the harmony of our shared existence, we carved a path, both on the land and in our hearts.
Life for us horses, even in the 10th century, was a rich tapestry of work and joy. Though hardships existed, we also shared in the warmth of human companionship, the wonders of new discoveries, and the vibrant spirit of community that bound us all together. We might be creatures of strength and purpose, but beneath that, we also yearn for connection, love, and adventure, each in our own unique way. And so, the story continues, from plough fields to race tracks, and the spirit of the horse endures.
Until next time, fellow horse enthusiasts!
Emma.
