From my stable in Hayfield, near Aberdeen, to you!
Hello fellow equine enthusiasts! My name is Emma, and I'm a 20-year-old grey draught mare with a fluffy white mane and tail that just wouldn't look right if it wasn't perfectly braided.
Today, I'm going to take you back in time to the year 1015, the year I was born. I don't have any way to confirm this year exactly, of course. Our memories aren't quite as sharp as humans, especially as a draught horse; my day is spent working and resting, not pondering history books!
But from what my old friend Barley, the stable's retired cart horse, has told me, life was a bit different then. Barley has lived through more than his fair share of harvests and winters, and even he can only offer tales passed down through generations.
A Life of Labour
1015... ah, the life of a draught horse was simpler then. Not in a "nothing to do" kind of way, but simpler. No fancy tack, no need to leap over hurdles, or wear silly hats! We were the backbone of our villages. From hauling the plows to transport loads, we kept the wheels turning – quite literally, of course.
Being a big grey draught mare meant I was strong. The farmer in Hayfield relied on me for everything: plowing, sowing, reaping – you name it. It was demanding, working in all weather, but I was content. It’s in our nature to work. Horses are meant to have purpose. It gave me a feeling of purpose that I still find deep inside when I watch the youngsters here now; those carefree spirits flitting around, not a thought for the hard labour they'll do one day.
Barley tells me our world was smaller in 1015, more tightly bound to our village, but as the years passed, people would need to move things farther. That meant more work for horses like me, but we were used to that, you see? Work was part of our life; it's all we knew, just as our life is dictated by the seasons, and the routines they bring.
Spring brought the excitement of new foal births – the small, wobbly creatures who'd grow strong to become working horses, much like me, carrying the burden of a farm on their powerful shoulders. We would work side-by-side, but there was something magical about the first blooms of spring. Maybe the smell of the earth was different back then, maybe the green seemed fresher. It's hard to say. All I can do is tell you what Barley's whispered, but I find myself reflecting on his tales, wondering if it is true.
Horse Culture - More Than Just a Means to an End
But horses weren't just about working the land. We were a part of the fabric of life, much like humans are in your world. We were partners.
Barley recounts stories of knights riding horses to defend the kingdom against invaders. I’d have loved to gallop on the battlefield. I wouldn’t have been fast enough for a war horse, of course, my strength lies in other tasks. Even though those knights are far gone now, I get excited watching the young colts practicing their maneuvers – who knows? Maybe one day they will defend the castle here too. Or, in a calmer role, they may carry messages over miles, and across continents.
Yes, 1015 was a time of strength, of perseverance. Even our most prized steeds were valued not only for their speed or beauty but also for their ability to work. That was our strength, you see? To carry the burden, to pull, to help our human counterparts. We were a fundamental part of the world – as much then as we are now, although I suspect now it's different again. Barley never told me the finer details, the specifics of how the times changed so much.
Looking Towards the Future
Although life in 1015 wasn't all sunshine and roses – the winters were brutal, food wasn't always plentiful – there was something uniquely peaceful about it. Perhaps, I miss the simplicity, the deep-rooted bond with the humans around us, our reliance on each other to survive.
Perhaps the change hasn't all been positive for us horses, especially those like me, working hard as I have been for decades.
Yet, one thing is clear – even though our life was simpler then, our value and the appreciation humans felt for us remained. It's why I work with a happy heart, why I strive to pull that bit heavier, or take that one extra load – it’s why I still carry on, my white tail swaying behind me. Even with the cold breath of change against our manes, horses are still horses. That much hasn’t changed. And maybe, just maybe, some things in this world never change.
It’s comforting, you see?
Until next time, happy neighing!
Emma
