By Emma, Grey Draught Mare
From: Hayfield, Near Aberdeen
Well, my lovely Equine friends, I’m back with another blast from the past, for my 83rd blog post. And what a year 0083 was! Yes, I know, the year seems ages ago even to us, right? And imagine if it’s a mere blink of an eye for the humans.
This year, as a young, sprightly, newly-turned 20-year-old (ah, those were the days!), my life was a blur of sunshine, barley fields, and, of course, hard work! This being the year I truly blossomed into adulthood as a working draught horse. I was living the good life on my family's small holding. Yes, “holding,” is what the humans called it, as our land was actually very small. Just enough for our small family – me, my Mum and my younger brother, a bright-eyed bay named Rory.
You see, back then, owning horses was a necessity, a tool for most humans in the country, particularly here in Scotland. And in 0083, things felt quite settled, and frankly, very much familiar! In fact, it often felt as though time stood still, a gentle, quiet peace pervaded everything.
My days were filled with a variety of tasks, most of which felt pretty basic but crucial. I was still being taught by my Mum, even at my age! Apparently, she still felt I needed a bit more guidance to perfect my craft! She always insisted, “My darling Emma, there is no shame in taking time to learn. Every new harvest, every field, is a new learning curve.”
Well, of course, you know I always love to listen to my lovely mother, especially if it involved getting extra cuddles and attention.
We worked mainly with our human, a kind, red-haired man named Angus. He always treated us with the utmost respect, a soft hand and gentle words, even when we needed a little discipline for the occasional bit of mischief! He wasn't quite so quick to offer extra cuddles, though, unless they were related to his daily routine of combing our manes and tails, a routine he took quite seriously, I must add. He even created his own special kind of comb – I hear the humans call it a “horse-hair curry comb”! And it was rather marvellous!
Now, this may come as a surprise, but back in those days, our lives revolved around something called "agriculture". Yes, humans didn't rely on big machinery; we horses were essential for the entire process! It may sound like a simple life, and in some ways, it was, but we also understood how crucial we were to the survival of the village and those around us.
From sunrise to sunset, we would pull the heavy wooden ploughs, working tirelessly through the fields, furrowing the earth for the coming crops. We moved hay, carried timber, transported supplies to nearby villages, and hauled stones and manure. Hard work indeed, but our kind knew nothing else. And we thrived.
One of my absolute favorite tasks, however, was during the yearly barley harvest. Angus used me, my Mum and Rory to transport the precious bundles of grain, our heavy footsteps echoing across the sun-drenched fields, as we carefully maneuvered our wooden wagons. We even had a catchy tune to our steps, passed down through generations of horses. The rhythm of our hoofs, and the sound of our gentle snorting, accompanied us as we delivered our burden to the local mill. The aroma of freshly milled barley filled the air as we rested for a brief moment after a successful day’s work.
Evenings in 0083 were blissful. We’d graze freely in the nearby meadows, our stomachs content, as we admired the sunset, tinged with hues of crimson and gold. Then, as the first stars glimmered in the twilight sky, Angus would lead us back to the stable, and there, in the warmth of our straw-filled stall, we would snooze, dreaming of the day's adventure, and all the mischief and love we experienced alongside our human friend, Angus.
But it was not just the day-to-day routines that made 0083 memorable.
My life was filled with exciting discoveries and unforgettable encounters. You see, as a young, headstrong mare, I was naturally curious and couldn’t resist an opportunity for an adventure!
I distinctly remember, the first time I got to meet a "new type of horse" – I was absolutely captivated! Imagine, something entirely different from the hefty grey draughts I knew. We encountered them at the nearby village market, their coats were sleek, shiny and…black! This unfamiliar horse, the likes of which I'd never seen before, had sleek, graceful limbs, with long, flowing, raven-black manes and tails. I couldn't help but nuzzle his silky flanks as my curiosity got the better of me!
These black, nimble horses were what the humans called "Thoroughbreds" and I quickly learnt they were valued highly by the Romans and some others, prized for their speed and elegance in something called…“racing”! My Mum later told me, these creatures were more suitable for a more athletic life. I just could not imagine pulling a plough or cart! They looked as if they would fly if you even asked them!
Their energy, agility and intelligence made me both jealous and excited at the same time. Oh, to be able to move with such speed and grace! And, as if to tease me even more, the humans told me, these “thoroughbred” horses belonged to a “king”, who held grand gatherings on a very large expanse of grass – what they called “racecourses” – to "watch" them run and see who was the fastest.
In 0083, humans and horses shared an unusual intimacy – you know, the type that can't be replicated these days – where every journey was a shared adventure. My memories of that era, so full of routine and familiarity, also brim with moments of joy and surprise!
This is why I find it absolutely essential to keep our history alive and document those days, to cherish our past. Who knows, our story of these days might offer inspiration to those living today – a sense of harmony, collaboration and understanding between human and animal.
I can't promise, my friends, that the lives of horses in 0083 were without challenges. Disease, accidents, harsh winters and times of scarcity still affected our kind. Even if a draught horse lived a more protected, familiar life on a working farm or holding, we were not exempt from illness or injury, especially in these times! And I also recall some stories – that many will not want to talk about - about some “cruel” humans that did not care for their horses as well as they should have. That is a different story for another day.
For me, personally, the positive aspects of 0083 overshadowed any of those “unfortunate” occurrences. I still say that time, in a way, represents a wonderful stage in the life of all horses. It felt as though we were living in a shared world with the humans, who respected us, cherished our role, and appreciated us. And I know many of my colleagues, across Scotland, and even other areas of the world, had their own similar experiences, a sort of kinship with humans that felt quite special!
As we continue to adapt, to work and to be “horse” in an evolving world, I want to take this opportunity to acknowledge the past. Those early days, in 0083, set the stage for everything else, and they shaped my kind into what we are today. They shaped me into the wise and experienced old mare I am now, and I continue to share these experiences, stories, and insights so they don't get forgotten! It is so important that our memories and history live on.
I’ll leave you all to dream of fields of green barley, gentle sunrises and starlit skies…and I'll see you next time!
Emma
P.S. Don't forget to join the Equine History Club. Just reply to this post, leaving a comment about any experiences from your family history or something interesting you discovered in the year 0083 – remember, anything is allowed, we’ll take a look at any aspect of your history, from work and daily life to social interactions, any intriguing events, the human “trends” back then, any curious news…or any tales your older horses share – let me know!
