Hello everyone! It's Emma here, your resident historian from the beautiful highlands of Hayfield, near Aberdeen. Today I'm diving into a year that, while a touch quieter than usual, holds some interesting moments for us equines. So saddle up and let's gallop through 1286!
As always, I'll be focusing on the stories we horses are woven into, rather than grand battles or political manoeuvres. We are, after all, the silent, tireless, and very real backbone of this world!
Now, 1286. It was a year of quiet, steady progress, and I say that with a contented sigh. I was only a young mare then, barely a year into my life with my dear humans, the MacGregor family. Life in the Highlands was, as ever, full of fresh air, open spaces, and the comforting scent of heather. My strong build, inherited from my grand sire who pulled ploughs on the farm, was just beginning to come into its own. I spent my days learning my work: pulling carts laden with peat for fuel, hauling bales of barley, and patiently pulling my owner's sturdy Scottish Galloway cows through the fields for a thorough morning check-up.
And what work it was! This wasn't about the endless pounding of cobbled streets under a heavy burden; this was about contributing to the rhythms of life, to the well-being of our family. It wasn't glamorous, but I loved it. It filled me with a deep sense of purpose. I was part of the story, just as the sturdy shepherd dogs, the hardworking dairy cows, and the laughing children were.
Speaking of laughter, 1286 was also a year of much celebration! King Alexander III of Scotland had died tragically earlier that year, but luckily, his little girl, the beautiful and strong Princess Margaret, became Queen at just three years old. As you might expect, there was a great deal of feasting and festivity, as well as serious talk of a "guardian" for the little Queen, for she couldn't rule on her own.
Though I was just a youngster, I witnessed the festivities firsthand. The townspeople adorned themselves in their best, and horses pulled brightly coloured carts carrying dancing minstrels. There were joyous singing voices and delicious smells of roasted meats and spiced honey wine floating in the air. Though my job involved helping the townspeople with carting and carrying, I must say the whole experience was a joy to be a part of. I felt pride for my kind, the heart of these celebrations.
Moving away from our immediate surroundings for a moment, 1286 was also a big year for horse racing. It is believed that the first recorded instance of a jockey's stick was this year in a race at Chester, England. Now, a jockey's stick was more a wooden rod than the polished tools of today. It was used to direct the horses, primarily by applying pressure on their necks, and, I'm not going to lie, I found the image of the "sticks" a bit unnerving at the time! Still, the entire spectacle - horses running for glory and crowds roaring their excitement - sparked an intense fascination in me.
Of course, at that time, horse racing was far less formal than it is today. There weren't even set racecourses in many places. Often it would be more like a grand sweep of a village common, a horse simply having to outpace its fellow steeds for the honour of winning. This "primitive" style, as some would call it, seems even more incredible to me now. To me, that kind of natural competition was pure adrenaline - no fancy stables or meticulously prepared courses. Just instinct, courage, and a sheer love for the feel of wind in your mane!
I wouldn't have minded taking part myself, but I wouldn't be mistaken for a speedy racer, ha!
Though our work was essential, I'm sure many of you have a bit of a romantic view of the medieval horse, like perhaps a gallant war steed! I will say that while I personally found war disturbing, many horses in those times did serve in battle. This wasn't something my dear McGregor family would be involved in; we were for the work of the fields and the bustling, life-filled streets of our town. I knew little about these war horses save the tales, and how even those brave creatures could not always return home from these journeys. Their life was certainly filled with a unique sort of courage, I am sure of it!
There is one last story from the year 1286 I want to tell.
You see, there is a beautiful, strong stallion known throughout the Highlands, a steed known as 'Bran', who belongs to the Stewart clan. He's famous not just for his strength, but also for the gentle touch that makes him loved by all. This noble creature, Bran, was used to ferry messengers throughout the highlands and for carrying cargo to the northern coast. But 1286 held something special for him. You see, it was that year he helped rescue an entire community in a blizzard! The snow fell like an army, blinding everything with white and leaving many stranded.
As the days dragged into nights, a village cried out for help. They had been trapped in a frozen wilderness, unable to find the warmth and shelter they desperately needed. But Bran, along with his noble and resourceful owner, Angus Stewart, came to their rescue! They braved the elements and tirelessly brought help in the form of provisions and a way out for those trapped.
This remarkable story, passed down from that time, has inspired a young mare like me for as long as I can remember. To be a force for good, a bringer of help - these were qualities that resonated deeply within my heart, even more than being admired as a grand or powerful creature. And I know these stories echo amongst many of you as well!
So there you have it, my friends! This has been my story, a little glimpse into a world of horse history. Until next time, remember, there are countless tales out there waiting to be unraveled, waiting for you to uncover your own horses' history. Just ask around, a grey-haired farmer, a gentle shepherdess, an elder in your stable - these folks can lead you down paths you never expected to find!
And remember: We are more than just workhorses, racing horses, war horses - we are the hearts and souls of our world, and that makes all the difference.
Till next time!
Warmly,
Emma
Equiworld.orgAbout the Author
Emma is a 20-year-old grey draught mare with a heart of gold and a boundless love for history! She resides in the Highlands of Scotland near Aberdeen with the McGregor family, where her days are spent helping her human friends on the farm. In her downtime, she writes about the captivating world of horses for EquiWorld, drawing inspiration from her own experiences and the rich history surrounding these extraordinary animals. You can find Emma on her social media channels @Emma_Historian on Equiworld.
