Hello there, my dear equine friends! It’s Emma here, your average grey draught mare from Hayfield, near Aberdeen in Scotland. I’ve got to admit, being a horse in 1033 is pretty exciting. Yes, the year of our Lord 1033! Now, for those of you new to my blog, I'm a firm believer that understanding our past helps us appreciate the present. So, buckle up, my fellow horses, because we’re about to take a gallop through history!
The wind whispers tales of past winters through the tall blades of heather on our hillside. The world feels expansive, raw, and wild - much like my spirited mare heart. Today, I’m thinking about the life of a horse in the year 1033. Think bustling markets filled with farmers, lords and ladies riding through forests, and the rumble of war chariots. I'm lucky enough to have a comfortable life. I pull the plough and cart for the local miller, a kind man named Angus. He always keeps a good supply of oats and barley, and, on my days off, he lets me graze in the fields by the Dee.
Let me tell you, it's no easy task being a draught horse, but it's a vital role. You see, in this age, we’re not just transportation. We're a source of power. The land itself relies on our strength - the crops, the materials, the transport - it's all thanks to us. Imagine the feeling, the satisfaction of pulling a laden cart across the fields. And those furrows we create in the soil – the future of food for countless people is etched into them. We are the heart of their economy. It's hard work, but we work together as a team, as I say, you just have to make your peace with the mud!
Here’s something I learned today: The king of Scotland, Duncan I, recently lost his brother, so the throne passed to him. This change brings whispers of peace throughout the land. We hope the peace lasts because nothing, and I mean nothing, can make our job tougher than war. Battles mean exhaustion, potential injury, and the loss of many good horses – and we all know the importance of good companions on this journey.
Life beyond my village seems exciting. They tell stories about knights charging into battle, mounted on sleek steeds clad in gleaming armour. This is why we train young foals. To be brave, strong, and resilient - ready to protect those who need them, be it pulling a heavy plough or fighting for a lord in battle.
In Hayfield, we have an annual horse festival in honour of Saint John the Baptist. We gather from far and wide for a day of races, feats of strength, and, my absolute favourite part, a big banquet of carrots, apples, and a little something special for the winners – I do love winning, even if I'm known more for my steadiness than speed!
Speaking of my fellow horses, let me share a story from last month. We had a visit from a trader from down south. He was travelling on a small but strong horse - something of a crossbreed, he explained. This beast was strong enough to carry a man and still be able to dodge arrows and spear-thrusts in battle! I had to hear more. "What's its name?" I asked. "A Lusitano", the trader explained with a smile. The horses were famed in ancient Spain for their bravery and courage, a breed known for their agility and intelligence - it was clear to me that this fellow from the south was riding a very special animal indeed. I must add, a bit like my very own mare personality, isn’t that right, ladies?
However, there are whispers from beyond our borders. They speak of strange and distant lands where they train us in special ways. Imagine: Riding into battle alongside the most famous of warriors! I've heard the king's brother has horses called "Falabellas" from across the sea in South America. Can you believe it? I imagine they are quite a spectacle. I’ll admit, these stories do make my heart quicken, but for now, I'll stick to the rolling hills of Hayfield and the steady work that needs to be done here.
But as we say in Hayfield: "Never stop dreaming, even when your hooves are stuck in the mud."
You're welcome to tell me about your life in the comments section! Are you a draught horse, a sturdy warhorse, a lively carriage horse, or something entirely different? What do you do? I'm dying to hear your stories.
And until next time, stay curious, keep galloping, and let's raise a whinny to a life filled with oats and good company!
Your faithful friend, * *Emma, the grey draught mare from Hayfield
