Welcome to Equiworld, dear readers!
I’m Emma, a grey draught mare with a white mane and tail, and I’m thrilled to share a bit of history from my life back in the year 1340. This little blog is dedicated to recording the tales and experiences of my fellow equine friends across the world, so I hope you’ll join me on this journey.
Hayfield, my Home Sweet Home
Born and bred on the lush green pastures of Hayfield near Aberdeen, Scotland, my early days were filled with sunshine, grazing, and frolicking with my herdmates. We'd race across the fields, kicking up our hooves with youthful exuberance, and sometimes even try our luck at snatching tasty morsels from the farmer’s harvest, earning us a gentle scolding. It was a life of simple pleasures, but oh, so full of joy!
Our days revolved around the rhythms of the farm. We’d be roused from our slumber by the cock’s crow, and after a good graze, would help the farmer with the day's chores. My strong, sturdy build made me ideal for pulling plows and carrying heavy loads, and I always felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the end of a day’s work.
The Year of the Black Death
Ah, 1340 – a year that marked not only my own coming of age, but a terrible darkness that spread across Europe. I remember it vividly, though as a horse, I didn’t quite understand the devastation it brought. It was during the early years of the ‘Black Death’, as the villagers called it. A sickness that swept through their villages and took them in droves. Their faces, once filled with life and laughter, now wore a mask of pallor and suffering. They became quiet, withdrawn, and there was an emptiness in their eyes that I had never witnessed before.
Although we horses were mostly spared from the plague, it was clear that something had shifted. We felt it in the air, in the palpable sadness that settled over the land. The farms became quiet, the market stalls grew bare, and the cheerful chatter of the villagers faded into a solemn hush.
I remember one particularly bleak day, when the farmer, my usual companion and caretaker, became unwell. He looked pale and weak, and he stayed in bed for days. His wife, Agnes, whom we horses adored, grew thinner and her voice turned shaky, a sound that broke my heart. Thankfully, she had the strength to care for the other horses while my kind master slowly recovered. But he was never quite the same after the plague. A darkness seemed to cling to him, even as his physical health returned.
A Time of Loss and Uncertainty
As the months rolled on, our world became shrouded in uncertainty. The villages that had been bustling with life stood vacant, silent. Fear hung heavy in the air, and whispers of a mysterious ‘Death’ travelled like shadows from village to village. The horses felt it too, in the hushed stillness, the empty stables, the lack of our usual daily tasks.
However, we horses, strong and resilient, continued our routines, finding solace in our shared camaraderie. We grazed together in silent companionship, sharing the quietude with nudges, whinnies, and gentle nuzzles. We felt a deep kinship, a silent bond, in those dark days, and it provided us with an unwavering strength that we found in each other.
The Importance of Horses
But the Black Death was not only a period of fear and sorrow. It also brought forth an unexpected glimmer of hope, for it underlined our invaluable role in their lives. In the wake of the devastating plague, humans relied even more on horses for transportation, carrying goods and connecting isolated villages. The blacksmith’s hammer rang out with renewed purpose as horses needed shoes repaired and carts maintained. Farmers, with fewer workers available, turned to their horses more than ever, relying on them to plough fields, harvest crops, and keep the farms alive.
Our presence, a familiar symbol of strength and endurance, brought them comfort. In the face of fear and loss, horses were a reminder of resilience and the indomitable spirit of life. And that, my dear readers, is a fact that will remain true for many generations to come.
From a Humble Horse’s Perspective
It may seem insignificant, the story of a grey draught mare from a Scottish village. But I believe every life, even a humble horse’s life, plays a crucial role in shaping the world around us. My story, like those of all my equine brothers and sisters across the globe, is intertwined with the tapestry of history. It's a story of survival, of hard work, of resilience, and, most importantly, of the unwavering bond between humans and their trusted companions – horses.
I'd love to hear from you! Do you have stories from your own equine ancestors? Have you heard tales about horses in this historical period? Let me know in the comments section below.
Until next time, happy trails!
