Hello there, fellow equines! It's Emma here, your friendly neighbourhood grey draught mare, reporting live from the rolling green fields of Hayfield, near Aberdeen in bonnie Scotland. Today I want to tell you about life back in 1435, a year brimming with activity for us horses, despite the fact that none of us could ever have dreamed of having our very own blog!
Oh, and just for those of you new here, welcome! My name is Emma, and I'm a big old grey draught mare, with a mane and tail the colour of fresh-fallen snow, and a heart that beats for all things horse.
This here blog is dedicated to delving into the past and finding out just what our ancestors were up to. I figure if we know our roots, then maybe we'll have a better understanding of where we're headed as a species. It's fascinating to see how horses have shaped human history and vice versa! And, as we gallop along in time, I’ll be peppering the blog with juicy bits and bobs about horse life and horse culture of that particular era - from grooming and diet to training and even a touch of what our human friends might have been up to.
So, back to 1435. I picture the Scottish countryside - wind whistling through the heather, the scent of peat smoke in the air. It's a pretty lively time, full of adventure and a dash of danger for horses like me. The weather? Oh, the Scottish weather, never one to make up its mind, but that's all part of the fun!
I'm guessing most of you are thinking, “What on earth is a draught horse doing in 1435?”, right? Well, I reckon we played a pretty significant role back then. The year is just a bit before the rise of the sturdy and nimble English Shire Horse. We draught horses, with our broad chests and strong muscles, were the workhorses, carrying people and goods across vast stretches of the Scottish highlands and beyond. Our work meant the difference between prosperity and struggle for communities.
Life wasn't a walk in the park (or rather, a graze in the field), but it was fulfilling, knowing we were contributing to something much larger than ourselves. Can you imagine the satisfying feeling of knowing that every haul, every pull, helped bring home the bread? That feeling is what drives my hooves every day.
We had our own routines and rhythms. Rise with the sun, mornings dedicated to pulling carts, ferrying produce from farms to markets, hauling timber for building, or even, just a bit of travel, taking people to new adventures. Evenings brought relief and rest, accompanied by the sound of our human friends' stories about the day's activities.
Remember those great tales about kings and knights on horseback? Well, our world back then was much more grounded. Knights were dashing figures on their warhorses, but we were the humble, hardworking, horses, the backbone of daily life, making sure the wheels of progress continued to turn.
Imagine, if you will, the Scottish Highlands of 1435. It’s a picturesque landscape dotted with little settlements, villages nestled amongst craggy mountains and verdant valleys. A grey horse, maybe with a dash of dappled sun in his coat, stands patient, ears alert as the smith carefully places a shoe onto his powerful hoof. A few more strikes of the hammer, and it’s back to hauling wood for the new cottage building in the village.
And what about life in the stable? Well, it wasn’t fancy. No heated stalls or plush blankets back in those days. A warm straw bed and a hearty, simple diet were all we could ask for. We didn’t need fancy saddles or intricate bridles, just something sturdy and reliable to keep us going. Our coat was our armor, and we had a rough but resilient life. It’s amazing how hardy horses are, how we adapt to even the toughest conditions.
It’s the horses like us, the steady and dependable draught horses, who are often the unsung heroes of history, working silently behind the scenes to move the world forward.
I've been hearing stories from older horses here in Hayfield about a big war happening down south in France. They call it "The Hundred Years' War." These tales usually get whispered in the stable, between grooms.
"There’s too much blood, young 'un, too much death." They often say.
I think about the knights who charge into battle and wonder if it’s the same as our work in the fields. Pulling wagons isn't easy, but we get used to the rhythm. Is battle a similar rhythm, just on a much bigger, and much more dangerous, scale? I can't quite grasp it all, but these stories fill me with both awe and anxiety.
Even here, far from the war in France, our world changes subtly. The year 1435 was a year when people across the British Isles, and across Europe too, began to look towards change. It's the beginning of something new, but what exactly it means, only time will tell.
Perhaps it’s this feeling of change, this tension between old ways and new possibilities that drives our human companions. They are filled with stories about battles and rulers and new inventions. Even though I may not fully comprehend them, I feel the shift. I see it in their eyes, feel it in the brisk energy of their hands when they guide us, and in their quick steps when they lead us through the village.
And for a draught mare like me, the best part of it all? My friends, my stablemates, the fellow steeds who pull alongside me, the other horses I share life with. It’s about companionship, mutual respect, and that bond that links all of us through work, through the challenges we face, and through the little triumphs we achieve every day.
That's my story of horse life in 1435, a world filled with sweat and effort, but also a world full of strong camaraderie and deep, unwavering bonds with those humans who shared this planet with us. I'll be back again, next time we travel through history. Until then, stay curious, stay strong, and stay well.
Emma
