History of Horses in the year 1334

Hello, fellow equines and equestrian enthusiasts! It’s Emma here, your trusty grey mare from the rolling hills of Hayfield, near Aberdeen. I’m so excited to be sharing with you another fascinating snippet from horse history. Today, we’re travelling back in time to the year 1334.

You may be surprised to learn that, in 1334, life wasn’t very different for horses like me than it is today. We were the heart and soul of everyday life – a vital force in farming, transportation, and even war.

But this year, 1334, was an interesting one, and not just because I celebrated my 20th birthday. Let me take you on a journey through the year, through my eyes, and perhaps you’ll understand why!

My life was simple, filled with routine and the satisfaction of hard work. My mornings began before dawn, a chorus of crowing roosters and the familiar calls of the farmhands my wake-up call. I’d rise, shake out my coat, and feel the familiar tug of the harness. I was a draught horse, and the strong grey muscles that rippled beneath my hide were meant for pulling plows, carts, and wagons.

Hayfield was a place of abundance, with fertile soil perfect for growing barley, oats, and, of course, plenty of hay – a feast for a horse like me. My days were spent hauling produce to market, pulling heavy wagons to the mill, or patiently turning the soil, preparing the fields for the next harvest.

We weren’t treated badly, though it’s true the farmhands often pushed us hard. We were fed well, cared for diligently, and respected as the sturdy backbone of the farm. I felt a sense of purpose and contentment, knowing that my strength and loyalty helped to keep our little community thriving.

While my own world revolved around the rhythm of farm life, the whispers of larger events filtered through the community. The King of England, Edward III, was having some serious disputes with the King of Scotland. Now, the men would talk about battlefields, castles under siege, and daring raids – but the truth was, we horses understood it too. We knew something big was happening.

1334 brought with it an unwelcome reality – a summons for all strong horses like myself to join the King’s army. A shiver went through the farm when the messengers arrived with their urgent pronouncements. We weren’t expected to fight, but our strength and stamina were crucial.

You see, the English had decided they wanted to take over Scotland, and that meant marching large armies and vast amounts of supplies north. My brothers and I – strong and able draught horses – would be hauling wagons of supplies and equipment, moving siege weapons, and transporting troops.

While my friends whinnied in fear, I couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement. My human family was visibly upset, especially my young filly, Willow, but there was a duty that needed to be done. This wasn’t just a conflict between Kings; it was a clash between nations, and my duty as a horse was to serve.

With a heavy heart, I said goodbye to the familiar green hills and the comforting sounds of my home farm. The road north was long and tiring, filled with the dust and heat of summer, but also with the companionship of other horses, bound for the same uncertain fate.

We marched for what seemed like days, and finally, arrived in a chaotic and unfamiliar land, where the soldiers in their armour were so different from the farmers back home. We were given food, our coats were cleaned, and my heart felt a slight lift. Here, even though we were in the midst of this conflict, the care and attention for horses were remarkable.

The battles that followed were terrifying. The clang of steel, the shouts of men, and the screams of wounded horses painted a vivid picture in my mind. My main task was pulling baggage carts, moving supplies quickly from the camps to the battlefront.

I witnessed bravery, fear, and loss. I witnessed the devastating power of war firsthand – a testament to human greed and folly. It left me with a quiet sadness that even my favorite field of fresh clover couldn’t completely quell.

My duties as a war horse didn’t last long. As fate would have it, a serious illness swept through the army, causing a retreat back to England. The war wasn’t over, not by a long shot, but the illness forced the King to take his forces back. We marched back, exhausted but alive, towards the relative peace and quiet of home.

Upon my return to Hayfield, the village welcomed me with open arms. There were celebrations, laughter, and endless tales of adventure. But deep down, I knew the experience had forever changed me. The shadow of the battlefield would remain in my thoughts for the rest of my days.

The men told stories about the bravery of the soldiers and the cunning strategies employed. Yet, they also recounted tales of sickness and loss. 1334 was a turning point in Scottish history. But for me, it was a stark reminder of the horrors that war can unleash.

Looking back on this significant year, I realize how interconnected our world truly is. While I was busy hauling hay and plowing fields, wars were brewing in the distant corners of the world. While I witnessed bravery and loss on the battlefields, the world was evolving, with new innovations shaping the landscape of society.

As for me, the year 1334 left me stronger and wiser. It filled my life with adventure, heartache, and a renewed sense of gratitude for my humble, peaceful life on the farm. I wouldn’t trade the experiences, the hardships, and the quiet moments of reflection for anything.

And that’s how things unfolded in 1334, a year of turmoil, and also, of the resilience and courage of horses like me. Until next time, dear friends!