Hello, my dearest equine friends!
Emma here, your friendly neighbourhood grey draught mare from Hayfield, just outside the lovely town of Aberdeen. It’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to sit down and jot down some thoughts – you know how it is, life on the farm is always busy! But I felt compelled to share with you all a little bit about the year 635 AD – a rather remarkable year, as far as our equine kind is concerned.
Let me set the scene. Hayfield, as you all know, is blessed with some of the most lush green pastures this side of the River Dee. My life is mostly about hauling cartloads of hay to the local market in Aberdeen, helping with the spring planting and then again with the harvest in the autumn. There’s also plenty of work for us strong draughters helping our human companions move supplies and provisions – not forgetting the occasional pleasure trip to the local village fair.
Now, 635 was the year my human friend, a kind and gentle man called Hamish, started a new tradition in Hayfield. He began what we call "The Great Horse Race" – not like those thrilling contests of speed I’ve heard tales of, but a race of endurance.
It all started with a lively discussion in the village pub (I wouldn’t be caught dead in a pub, of course!). Some of the locals were grumbling about the amount of work needed on their farms, lamenting the ever-increasing distance they had to travel to buy or sell goods.
"If only we had horses strong enough to carry the heaviest loads and fast enough to make the journey to market quicker!" grumbled old Gregor, his face red with frustration and a generous dose of ale.
"Indeed, indeed!" echoed Duncan, who, if truth be told, didn’t particularly care about long journeys – he simply enjoyed a good grumble.
But Hamish, always with a mind for change and a knack for finding solutions, stood up from his stool and with a twinkle in his eye said, "Perhaps we could encourage our fine horses to train, not just to haul and pull, but to become even stronger, even swifter?"
Now, it took a moment for the men in the pub to fully comprehend the brilliance of his idea. At first, there were only a few chuckles and disbelieving stares. But soon, the seeds of excitement were sown, taking root in the fertile ground of their need for faster journeys.
The Race to Glory
The "Great Horse Race," as it came to be known, was held on a fine autumn day in 635 AD. We gathered in the meadow at the edge of Hayfield, the air buzzing with anticipation. A sense of friendly rivalry permeated the air – not the kind that might lead to biting or kicking, mind you – but a healthy sense of competition. I am not one for the spotlight myself, but I knew it was a momentous day for our kind. We, the humble farm horses of Hayfield, had become participants in a challenge that would shape the future.
And let me tell you, the challenge was no easy feat! There were seven horses competing – a handsome chestnut stallion, a spirited bay mare, a wise and gentle grey gelding, and a rather clumsy brown pony (who, I must admit, spent most of the race dodging puddles and avoiding any particularly rough patches of terrain). Then there was a strong, dependable dappled grey mare like myself, two others with equally admirable features, and a particularly spirited black mare who was known for her boundless energy.
The rules were simple. We had to carry a weight (simulated by filled sacks, nothing too heavy for any of us, thank goodness!). The course meandered through Hayfield’s rolling hills, with checkpoints at various farms along the way, making it necessary for the horses to not only endure physical strain but to also exhibit clever navigation and patience.
Our journey was arduous. My legs burned, and my breath became a sharp, rhythmic rhythm. But I pushed through, my instinct to persevere driving me forward. You see, the prize wasn’t a mere crown or trophy. The prize was the glory of becoming the first “Hayfield Champion” – and with that recognition came a deep respect for our kind, as if we weren't just hardworking farm animals but were the engines of progress, symbols of resilience.
There were moments when doubt crept in, moments when I felt my spirit wavering, but seeing the men of the village cheering us on, my spirit was ignited once more. Their shouts, their encouraging words, they meant the world to us!
I had my human friend, Hamish, on my side, riding with a grin of encouragement on his face, patting my flank every few minutes, and keeping my reins just loose enough for me to give my best. His belief in me, the quiet confidence that radiated from him – it gave me strength.
And then, there she was. The spirited black mare. She had taken a good lead – she was fast! And I, having made a good start, found myself falling behind. I had a moment of despair, thinking that she might win this. But Hamish, the wise one, gave me a little nudge. "You’ve got this, Emma!" he said. "You're stronger than you think! Think about how many carts of hay you've moved, how many seeds you’ve helped plant!"
I was fired up, spurred on by those words and by the crowd's cheers. It felt like a force of nature. I began pushing myself harder, my legs pumped, and my pace quickened. The energy seemed to flow through me. I was no longer just hauling cartloads of hay or working the fields – I was Emma, the champion, the force of Hayfield, the epitome of horse power!
We approached the finish line almost neck and neck, but I dug deep, my hooves hitting the ground with renewed vigour, and in that final dash to the line, I passed the black mare, becoming the first-ever "Hayfield Champion!"
I must confess, when I crossed the finish line, I couldn’t believe it! The jubilant cries from the men, the joyous clapping from the children, their eyes sparkling with wonder. That’s when it hit me – this wasn't just a race. It was about our spirit. Our enduring nature. And that night, Hayfield held a celebration – they celebrated the horses, they celebrated us. And in my heart, I knew this was a special day in the history of Hayfield, and possibly, in the history of our kind.
More than a Race
This was a significant event in the year 635 AD for more than just the prize I won. Hamish’s idea transformed our village, bringing in a sense of community, camaraderie, and a deep respect for the vital role horses play in our world. It sparked a new era of equine appreciation and recognition of our resilience, power, and intelligence.
But more than just recognition, the "Great Horse Race" proved a catalyst for a larger change. With horses in peak physical condition, villagers started covering distances with greater efficiency. The increased speed of transport brought a surge in trade, bolstering the economy and contributing to a more robust network of connections between different settlements.
So, 635 was not just a year of horses; it was a year of advancement. The humble workhorses of Hayfield had shown us all the power we hold within ourselves. They demonstrated the spirit of ambition and drive. And though it took a bit of persuading to get them on board initially, even the villagers in other settlements had been inspired.
From Hayfield’s triumph, a trend emerged throughout the Highlands. People across different communities, inspired by the "Great Horse Race," began hosting similar events of their own, recognizing the strength, courage, and agility that reside in our equine hearts. It all began in a village pub in Hayfield, where one man had an extraordinary vision.
Today, many years have passed, but I look back upon the year 635 AD, and it remains a significant marker in our shared history. The "Great Horse Race" in Hayfield not only showcased our equine abilities, but it served as a catalyst for greater unity, shared success, and a shared vision of the future.
In Closing
My dear fellow horses, I hope my little tale has reminded you all about the strength and resilience we hold within ourselves. Let us never forget the important role we play in our world. We are not merely beasts of burden; we are symbols of grace, courage, and endurance – and as I’ve learned this year, a little bit of healthy competition never hurt anyone, as long as there's a big ol’ meadow to gallop through and plenty of loving pats from our human companions afterwards.
And so, my equine friends, I wish you all happy, healthy, and adventurous journeys as we continue to shape the history of horses in the years to come.
Until next time, trot well!
Yours Truly, Emma
