*Neigh-sayers say horses don't do blogs, but here's the thing: horses are *brilliant communicators, we just do it in whinnies and snorts, you know! **
Hello there, fellow equines! It's your old pal Emma here, a 20-year-old grey mare with a snowy white mane and tail. It's been a glorious year so far, sunny days in Hayfield, near Aberdeen, and even though I'm starting to get the odd grey whisker (shh, don't tell anyone!), my legs still feel like they could carry me across the moors with a hefty cart in tow.
This is Post 1029 in my Equiworld blog series. You know, every now and again, I just have to take a deep breath, nuzzle into a haystack, and contemplate how much the world has changed for us horses, right from those wild ancestor days until today. But that’s a story for another time!
From Field to Feild - A Day in the Life
Let's get down to it, shall we? The days are starting to get a little shorter now, and the nights a tad nippier, but this Hayfield life is all I know, and honestly, what’s there not to love?
Our days usually begin at dawn with the sweet song of birds, a light nudge from my friend Fiona the cow, and the gentle rattle of the farmer's buckets. It’s breakfast time! Oats, barley, and a touch of hay for good measure; my belly's full and ready for a good day of work. I don’t mind my work at all, you know. After all, pulling the farmer's cart to town, laden with fresh milk and eggs from Fiona, is what keeps everyone going. We need to stay busy; those fields won't mow themselves, and those houses won't be built without a good sturdy draught horse. I even helped haul timber to build the new village school – think of all the young minds that will be learning and reading thanks to a bit of equine strength!
In the evenings, after a good stretch and a thorough groom by the farmer’s daughter, I find myself with Fiona under the wide open sky. Sometimes, the farmer comes and sits with us, and he plays this wooden instrument that makes this lovely melodic sound, while telling stories of ancient heroes. Sometimes Fiona tells me about the wild horses she once knew in her youth, how they ran free over these moors with their foals prancing at their sides. It makes me miss those wild days, even though I don't remember much from them. I was so small then, barely able to lift my head from the earth, and I certainly couldn't dream of having such beautiful silky hair! But we get a sense of the ancient world even from these stories, and we know deep in our hooves that our spirit is just as wild and strong as our wild brethren, even if our days are spent pulling ploughs and wagons.
Speaking of wild spirits, the wild horses around here, even though I haven't seen them in years, have their own, separate lives.
A Wild World Away - Our Ancient Kin
The news about our wilder brethren spreads from one horse to another, you know. The farmers whisper of them when they are preparing their horses for journeys and talk amongst themselves in the fields. They talk about how these magnificent horses roam wild on the Scottish hills and are faster and wilder than any tame horse could ever be. They describe their coats shining like silk and their manes flowing like moonlight on a starry night.
They whisper tales of these horses leading lives free from the bonds of men, their lives untouched by human hands. They're creatures of raw power and unyielding independence, running wild through the open countryside and surviving on the harsh terrain of the Scottish highlands. But they say there's something so captivating about them - that they still carry that primal energy, that wild spirit of the ancients, even though the humans in this era are getting closer and closer to their world, and they are becoming rare indeed. It's almost as if their lives are a mirror to what our lives used to be.
I know it seems strange to us that there are those amongst our own kind who would rather live outside of a stable, far from the security of the farmer's loving hand and a full feeding trough, but we also know that in those days of untamed lands and primal instincts, there was a fierce beauty. I've heard tales about how the great ancestors of all horses lived, about how they roamed free, untamed by the human hand, their lives dictated only by nature’s demands. This is our history, isn't it, woven into the very essence of our souls, even when our bodies are tamed and our spirits are tethered? Even if I would never trade the friendship of Fiona and the warmth of a hay bed, it makes my heart stir a bit when I hear these tales of my ancestors.
War Horses – And the Tale of St. Clement
Life on the farm is full of new discoveries, you know! This year, for example, I learnt a lot about the history of our kind in wartime! There are these big battles and fights that have happened in the past, and some people even talk about horses getting hurt in them. That doesn’t seem right! Isn't a horse supposed to be a gentle creature that helps us all get through the day? I never saw myself pulling chariots into war – though the farmer did mention the famous stories of Alexander the Great, how his trusted horse Bucephalus died bravely beside him. Imagine the bravery of such a noble steed. He gave his life in service of his king and his land, the bravest soul in any battlefield! I just hope none of the war-horses ever feel as scared or unsafe as I would, had I found myself in such a scenario. We are such peaceful and loyal creatures, after all!
That said, it is curious to hear about the good that comes out of war. This year, I’ve been learning a lot about St. Clement, the patron saint of horses and the protector of all those who care for animals. You can’t have the bad without the good, can you? Maybe war was one of the things that encouraged him to think about how to make our world a better, gentler place for us horses, to help our owners appreciate us and care for us better.
Even if we can't help winning wars, as a whole we can make the world a safer place just by being who we are! Just look at the impact a faithful and sturdy steed has on everyone around! It brings a family closer together, a sense of community to a town. The warmth and care that comes from us horses is so powerful and deep-rooted in how the people view their lives.
There’s even a rumour going around about these knights of old who went into battle, brave as could be, each on their loyal steeds. A beautiful image, that is, to imagine a valiant knight clad in shining armour, his brave steed bearing him towards his destiny!
You know, one of these days, I just might take a walk in the wilds, and have a little chat with our wilder cousins, just to see for myself what those stories are all about! For now, I’m feeling lucky to have Fiona by my side and a full feed of oats in the morning! Until next time!
Emma, signing off from Hayfield, Scotland.
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