Hello everyone, and welcome back to my EquiWorld blog! It's Emma here, your friendly neighbourhood grey draught mare from Hayfield, near Aberdeen. Today, I'm diving into a historical deep dive - all the way back to 1167.
A Year in My Hooves
Oh, the stories I could tell about that year! It feels like a lifetime ago now, especially compared to how much the world has changed in the centuries since. Back then, life was much simpler for us horses, though not without its challenges, of course.
I was a young mare back then, only two years old. As the spring unfurled its green tapestry across the Highlands, I stood under the watchful gaze of my mother, a strong bay mare named Briony. Our lives were filled with the rhythm of farm work. I learned the ways of the plough, the comforting feel of the earth under my hooves, and the reassuring presence of the farm's strongmen, always guiding and caring. They were a comforting presence, just like my mother.
There was a feeling of camaraderie between the horses then - a sense of purpose and belonging that I can only describe as magical. We were more than just beasts of burden, we were part of the lifeblood of the village, of the nation even. We helped grow the crops that fed the families, carried goods to the distant market towns, and pulled the noble knights across the countryside.
The Stirring Sounds of a Changing World
Yet, amidst the routines, whispers of change floated through the wind. The air was buzzing with news from the south, carried on the backs of riders. It was a turbulent time, the kings and nobles jostling for power like stallions in a paddock. There was talk of a strong king called Henry, and rumours of conflict and warfare simmering just beyond our Highland valleys.
I wasn't old enough to truly grasp the significance, but it felt different. More restless, more urgent. The farm hands talked less about the fields and more about their lords and the wars brewing in England.
My owner, a kind farmer called Angus, took me out to graze near the edge of the valley one afternoon. I grazed contentedly on the fresh grass, while he stared out across the vast moors, his face filled with a pensive frown.
"There are difficult times ahead, Emma," he said softly, as if I could understand.
He patted my neck, the warmth of his hand calming my young heart. It was like he felt the same shift in the atmosphere, the coming storm of history.
The Power of Horses in a Changing World
1167 was a pivotal year. Kings were making alliances, castles were being built, and battles were fought. Across Europe, horses played a crucial role in it all, be it in war or in peace.
While warhorses were renowned for their bravery on the battlefield, draught horses like me, the gentle giants of the fields, kept the kingdoms running.
We delivered grain for the war effort, pulled supplies for the armies, and hauled the wood needed for building the formidable castles that stood as symbols of strength and power.
Even amidst the tumult, we horses remained steadfast, symbols of resilience, power, and vital strength. We were the silent giants who kept the world moving, even when it was on the verge of chaos.
My Thoughts and Dreams
I remember the anxieties and worries of my kind during that year. We would often stand together, our breaths steaming in the cold Highland air, sharing unspoken anxieties, hoping for a peaceful world where the rhythmic clang of the blacksmith's hammer wouldn't be drowned out by the clang of swords and the mournful screams of battle.
But even as a young mare, I dreamed of freedom. The scent of heather on the breeze, the endless rolling hills beckoned me. The whisper of wildness in the wind promised adventure and unbridled movement.
That year, I spent my days in service, pulling the plough, working diligently for the people I knew and loved. However, I couldn’t help but daydream, my hooves yearning for the open fields, the boundless expanses beyond our farm. I hoped that someday, maybe when I was older and stronger, I would find my freedom.
A Legacy of Strength and Resilience
The year 1167, like many others, was a testament to the role of horses in shaping history. We weren't just creatures of strength, we were vital cogs in the wheels of nations, carrying burdens, aiding in advancements, and ultimately contributing to the ever-evolving story of humankind.
And as I watch the modern world gallop past, I know that the spirit of our ancestors lives on. Today, the world may be changing at a breathtaking pace, but horses still hold a special place in our hearts. We remain symbols of freedom, strength, and noble dedication.
This is Emma, signing off from EquiWorld. I hope you enjoyed this journey back to 1167.
I’m already working on my next post about how life for a horse in 1168 differed from my 1167 experience. I know there are so many of you who love the horses of history just as much as I do, so until then, remember, keep those hooves movin’, and never stop learning about your own equine lineage!
Stay curious, and happy riding!
