Neigh-sayers! Welcome back to my EquiWorld blog! Emma here, a bonnie grey draught mare with a mane and tail as white as the purest Scottish snow. Today, I'm taking you back to the year 1497 – a year of grand explorations, royal births, and, of course, plenty of horse-powered adventures!
The breeze whistles through the barley fields of my home in Hayfield, just outside Aberdeen, as I pen these words (well, hoof these words, rather!). As you all know, a mare's life is filled with routine – tending to the farm, pulling the plough, hauling the heavy loads – but I always find time for a little contemplation, especially when the sun sets over the rolling hills. It’s then I feel the call of adventure, a feeling all horses share, and that’s how my blog was born!
Now, about that year 1497…
It was a momentous year, marked by the daring voyage of the explorer John Cabot, sailing under the banner of King Henry VII of England. He reached the shores of what we now know as Newfoundland, across the vast Atlantic. Imagine, galloping across those stormy seas! What a thrill it must have been for the horses that journeyed with him. The thought alone makes my hooves tingle with excitement!
But the horses of 1497 were not all setting out on grand explorations. While some carried knights and ladies to grand feasts and jousting tournaments, others pulled the heavy plows that ensured bountiful harvests for the farm folk. My kind – the stout, strong draught horses – played an essential role in those days, providing the power needed for farming and commerce.
As I said, my life in the Scottish Hayfields was a constant whirl of activity, a well-ordered routine, though not devoid of its thrills. One memorable day, a young nobleman rode by, seeking passage to Edinburgh for a Royal celebration. Now, I must tell you, noblemen were rarely this humble – but this one, a tall lad with a twinkle in his eye, readily jumped onto my broad back, his golden-furred falcon perching on his gauntlet. He paid me compliments, talking about my strength and noble bearing, much to the amusement of my fellow mares. You see, draught horses aren't usually lauded for their elegance, but we’re a sturdy lot, always willing to do our part! The journey was fast and exhilarating, filled with the thrill of galloping alongside the nobleman’s noble steeds. The view from my height, over the rolling heather, was magnificent – one I will never forget.
And, that very year, a young prince was born, Edward, a namesake to England’s glorious Saint Edward the Confessor. All the world celebrated, including the horses who served in the Royal Stables! The birth of a royal child always meant increased activity – grand processions, deliveries, and, of course, feasts fit for kings! The hooves of those lucky enough to be serving at court would have echoed through the great halls of the royal palaces – a cavalcade of noble creatures bearing banners of the monarchy, pulling the carriages filled with celebratory food and gifts. A feast, they say, was held for weeks to mark this momentous birth! I would love to have been a part of it! I’m quite certain they would have held an incredible competition in the royal courtyards, showcasing the horses' skill, speed, and grace – and of course, the finest show jumpers from all over the land would have been there! Just imagine the pride of having won in such a prestigious event!
But back to my quiet Hayfields life. Life was peaceful and purposeful, full of familiar sights, smells, and sounds. The call of the larks, the warmth of the sun on my coat, the gentle sway of the barley as the wind passes – those were the comforts of my life.
And the people of Hayfield, they were kind. They understood us horses, our moods and our strengths, always feeding us well, brushing our coats, and treating us with respect. They valued our contribution to their livelihood, their families, their very lives. And in return, we worked hard and diligently, offering our strength and unwavering dedication.
As for the world beyond Hayfield – the gossip travels quickly amongst our kind. Stories of distant lands, battles fought, new settlements formed, the excitement of the wider world would filter back to our Hayfields community, often arriving with travellers passing through or carried on the winds that blew in from the far-flung regions. Those tales always enthralled me, whispering of the possibility of another life, perhaps as an adventurous steed accompanying knights on daring journeys, racing across sun-kissed meadows, or pulling magnificent coaches.
But then I would glance at my fellow Hayfield horses, their coats gleaming under the Scottish sun, the playful glint in their eyes, the sense of belonging, and I knew this was where I truly belonged.
So, neigh-sayers, there you have it – 1497 in the eyes of a simple Scottish draught mare. It was a year of momentous happenings, filled with discovery, births, and a sense of wonder, and although my life remained firmly rooted in the humble farm, it echoed with the excitement of a larger world.
Until next time, may the wind be in your mane, and your hooves find a path of good fortune!
Yours, Emma, Hayfield, Scotland
