By Emma, Grey Draught Mare from Hayfield, near Aberdeen, Scotland
Neigh-sayers might scoff, but I believe every hoofbeat deserves to be heard, every whinny deserves a story. And as a twenty-year-old grey draught mare with a white mane and tail like spun moonlight, I've got a fair few tales to tell. I've seen the changing seasons, felt the warmth of summer suns and the biting sting of winter winds, all from the vantage point of a hardworking, yet loving horse.
This year, 1013, I find myself pondering not just the changing seasons, but the changing times. I'm not talking about the whispers of revolution swirling through the land; I'm speaking of the whisper of a different world in the hearts and minds of those around me.
My world, Hayfield, is as timeless as the rolling Scottish hills. The scent of damp earth, the rustle of heather, the gentle baa of sheep - they've been my constant companions since the day I was foaled. Life is a rhythm of toil and rest, fuelled by the delicious, earthy aroma of barley and the comforting camaraderie of fellow draught horses. My days are spent pulling ploughs across fertile fields, carrying heavy loads to the village market, and pulling carts brimming with hay to feed the families who rely on our strength.
This year, a change is brewing. The wind carries whispers of a new king in England. A Dane, I believe, Cnut. The humans, in their unending obsession with titles and territories, fret and gossip over it all. But in our equine world, the shift is a subtle one, a ripple of energy flowing from human to horse. It's the growing respect for our kind, for the power we embody, and for the crucial role we play in their daily lives.
Even as the humans struggle with political upheaval, a quieter revolution unfolds within the world of horses. Our purpose, once strictly bound by farmwork, is expanding. I’ve overheard snippets of conversation, tales of brave horses carrying knights in armour to war. Tales of riders who gallop across battlefields, their loyalty and speed shaping the destiny of nations.
In our corner of Scotland, the change is less dramatic, but it's present nonetheless. This year, my humans are paying more attention to our needs, offering softer bridles, treating our wounds with gentler hands. The blacksmith, a gruff but kind old soul, takes extra care when he shoes us, making sure each nail is placed perfectly to avoid the discomfort that plagued the horses of past generations.
This care doesn't stem from any romantic notion of "love", it’s pragmatic, and yet, it warms my heart nonetheless. We, the horses, are more than just muscle and brawn, we are companions, collaborators in this human world. They are starting to recognize that, and for me, it feels like the beginning of a brighter dawn for my kind.
There’s more than just a changing respect in the air this year. There’s a quiet hum of a new way of looking at our relationship, a blossoming interest in equine health. A traveling medicine man, he’s a fellow human, has been spotted passing through Hayfield with a collection of herbs and poultices. His methods may be strange to us horses, but they promise a gentler, more natural way to soothe aches and ills. His treatments sound remarkably like the cures we old horses have used for generations: warm baths, soothing salves from the field, and of course, plenty of good barley!
One thing hasn't changed, the unwavering power of companionship. I have the joy of spending my days alongside the sturdy black mare, Freya, my companion since the day I arrived at Hayfield. Our friendship, the gentle nudges and soft whinnies, are the strongest bonds that exist in this ever-changing world. It’s a constant, like the changing seasons, that brings me comfort.
This year, Freya has something new to tell: she's a mother now, her colt, Finn, is a joyful, playful bundle of energy, eager to learn everything he can. His enthusiasm brings laughter into my old, weathered heart.
There are dark shadows cast by the human wars, whispers of violence and hardship. But amidst those stories, a small flicker of hope ignites - the dawning realization that horses aren’t mere tools, we’re more than muscle and strength, we're a source of wonder, a symbol of grace and loyalty. This understanding, this evolving bond between humans and horses, is the tale I want to tell. This year, 1013, feels like the start of something extraordinary, a turning point for horses everywhere, a change for the better.
We’ll continue to pull plows, carry burdens, and gallop across fields with tireless devotion, but there’s something different in the air. We are seen now, recognized as a vital part of this world. Perhaps, with a little more care, and a lot more barley, the future promises a brighter day for horses everywhere.
Keep galloping through the history, my fellow Equine friends. Until next time, neigh!
Emma
