Hayfield, Scotland, August 1511
Well, my dear Equiworld readers, another year has galloped by and I'm back with more musings from the fields and stables of Hayfield. As a grey draught horse with a white mane and tail, you can imagine how often I'm mistaken for a cloud with hooves. I love being part of a world that appreciates my sturdy strength and gentle nature. But, oh my, so much has changed since my colt days. Let's have a good, slow, snort-and-munch through what has been happening in our horsey world.
I do enjoy the way our lives are interwoven with those of humans, so it feels like a good place to start with their world. The big news, the news everyone is discussing, is the state of England. We haven't heard too much detail here in Scotland, but whispers and stories trickle in with the travellers. It seems the young King Henry VIII has been crowned and things are certainly a little unsettled. A touch dramatic, I'd say. A little too much show and pomp. But maybe that's just because we are simple farm horses. We see through all the show and shine, knowing it's the earth beneath our feet, the simple toil of ploughing and pulling, that really matters.
It feels as if, here in Scotland, everything carries on pretty much the same. I feel blessed to have grown up in the fertile meadows near Aberdeen. Hayfield, for all its simplicity, feels like a constant. The rhythmic rhythm of ploughing and the joyful plod of cart pulling - it never changes. This year, the harvest has been a bumper one, the barley golden and ripe under the summer sun. My best friend, Fiona the Shire, and I, were part of the team bringing the barley wagons back to the village - a joyful symphony of creaking wheels, trotting hooves, and the scent of hay in the air. It feels as if all the hard work and diligence is really paying off.
Beyond Our Fields
Of course, the world is larger than our small corner of it. I often hear tales of brave horses carrying knights in tournaments, their muscles straining as they charge in a cloud of dust. The horses in the King's stable - those fine warhorses, trained for war and battle - I can only imagine the thrill of those noble creatures as they gallop over the field. The sheer courage it takes to charge headlong into the heat of battle. There's an awe, a quiet respect for those gallant steeds. And though we plough the fields in peace, there's something of that noble spirit in every horse's heart, a glimmer of that fighting fire in our eyes.
Yet, beyond these heroic stories, life for horses can be hard. We're working horses. And like any work, it can be demanding and sometimes dangerous. I remember my grandmother telling stories of the horses that died pulling heavy stone for building - a task not for the faint-hearted. You could feel their weary strength, the sheer grit in their eyes as they struggled, each muscle straining to pull just a little bit more. Horses, like any creature, can get sick, tired, or injured. The bond between the humans and the horse runs deep, the human working tirelessly to tend and care for us, to nurture us back to strength.
A Glimpse into the World of the Neighbour
My human companion, Fiona's owner, tells stories of the travels of the merchant. He brings with him horses, often with beautiful coats, horses that come from far-off lands. They've been brought all the way from Spain or Portugal, the warm sun and hot wind imprinted on their flanks. Some carry saddles made of bright leather and glittering metals - some look just like they're fit for a King! Imagine! A whole other world outside Hayfield.
One day, Fiona and I, while grazing peacefully in the fields, were visited by one of those beautiful travelling horses. I can still remember how majestic she was. She stood taller than Fiona, sleek and dappled brown with a long black mane like liquid velvet. We were completely enchanted! She told tales of far-off lands - about sun-drenched plains, towering mountain passes, bustling markets, and shimmering water. We couldn't help but imagine the freedom of such adventures, a chance to stretch our legs across miles of unknown territory, to see the world in all its glorious beauty.
And just the other day, we heard about horses pulling heavy carts, laden with spices and fabrics, coming through the port in Edinburgh. You can just imagine the energy of such an event - the horses straining with strength, the smell of exotic spices in the air, a touch of a far-off world landing on our simple fields.
The Ever-Changing World of Horses
As the years roll by, horses are playing a greater role in human society. We see it everywhere around us, from ploughing the fields to carting goods across the land. But the humans have discovered that horses can be even more. They’ve begun using us to haul wagons carrying passengers! What a wonder it must be - to gallop through the streets of a bustling city, carrying people with us as we speed along the dusty roads. A touch of excitement stirs even in my quiet heart, a quiet wish to feel that kind of thrill. It's quite amazing, really, the range of talents we possess, the myriad roles we can play.
And the world, always moving forward, keeps inventing new things! Just last week, a travelling merchant showed me a sketch. In this strange, wonderful picture, horses were moving faster, almost defying the wind, pulling wagons on rails of iron. My goodness! Just imagine the possibilities! Such inventions make our lives even more wondrous, but it also makes me wonder what the future will hold for us horses. Will we continue to evolve and grow along with the humans? Will the future see even more changes in our world? I can't help but be excited about it all!
My Dream of Freedom
Every day, when the work is done, I stand in the field, and gaze at the sunset. The world around me starts to soften, a pink-and-purple sky painted across the heavens. I can almost smell the salty air of the sea. Sometimes, I dream. I dream of escaping my sturdy life in the fields. I imagine the freedom of running, galloping through lush green meadows, of being wild and free, with the wind whistling through my mane.
Sometimes, the dream of freedom feels impossible, just another fleeting fantasy. But then I look at the moon, shining high in the midnight sky, a reminder that the world holds possibilities beyond our everyday lives.
And then, I think about Fiona, who dreams of the day she'll pull a heavy, rumbling coach, its polished brass gleaming, carrying its passengers through bustling streets. She dreams of being part of something grand, and I wouldn't want to steal that from her. Perhaps the dream of freedom isn't just about running wild, it's about finding the unique path where each of us can contribute, a path that fits the spirit within us.
The horses, each in their way, have a lot to contribute to the world. We’ll keep pulling, keeping plodding, keeping up with the changing times. But even if the changes make the future unfamiliar, it won't take away the magic of living and being. After all, it’s the quiet pleasures - the grass on our tongue, the soft wind against our mane, the gentle affection of our humans - that make us truly feel at home in this incredible world.
And I for one am so glad to be part of it all.
Until next time, Equiworld, Emma.
