Hello fellow equines, welcome back to my EquiWorld blog! This week, I'm feeling quite reflective, taking stock of our history, so to speak, and as a grand mare with a passion for the past (and a few more years under my saddle than some of you younger fellas!), I thought I'd share some reflections on the year 753!
I know, 753? That feels like an awfully long time ago! Well, let me tell you, in Hayfield, life was very different then, much as it has been from generation to generation for centuries, but 753 was special for a number of reasons.
First, let's put things in perspective. Hayfield, nestled near the grand old city of Aberdeen in the highlands of Scotland, was a quiet little place back then, much like it is today, but with even less fuss and fewer folk about. We horses were the lifeblood of the place, carrying people, hauling goods, and even working the land, just like my father before me.
The people of Hayfield lived in a way that we might consider rather rustic these days. Most of their houses were built of stone, with thatched roofs, and the inside? Well, let's just say they were cosy! And those grand old folk lived simple lives, dependent on the land, and yes, the likes of me!
My memories of 753 are full of sun-dappled fields, sweet smells of hay, and the warmth of the stable as we huddled close on cold nights. I was young, full of vigour, and bursting with life, just like a daisy bursting from the spring soil. But there was more to the year 753 than just sunshine and playful frolics with the colts.
This year, something important happened in the lives of horses all over Britain - a new king came to the throne. Now, you see, the great Romans were already quite powerful by this time. They had been moving around, taking their strong horses and swords, but in 753, they were even more prominent than before.
One of my dear cousins, a mare with a long white mane and a brave spirit, travelled all the way to Rome (that's a journey even a long-legged horse like me can't quite fathom!). She brought back stories of powerful men in leather tunics, magnificent carriages that could carry more than a dozen passengers, and rows upon rows of horses all meticulously groomed and trained to be mighty and strong. They say some of these horses were the size of oxen! My! I always did like a well-built stallion.
Of course, even though the Romans were making their mark, our way of life here in Hayfield continued mostly as it had been for years. Farmers still relied on strong draft horses to pull the plough through the fields. And me? Well, I was growing up. I spent my days learning to pull heavy loads, hauling supplies to the local market, and carrying sturdy baskets of fish brought in from the sea. Yes, even us horses were helpful to those hardworking fishermen!
And on my days off, of course, I’d have adventures with my best friend, a little piebald pony called Daisy. We'd trot through the meadows, grazing on lush grass and chasing butterflies in the warm sun. And on special occasions, we’d gallop through the wild heath with the wind whipping our manes!
Now, the men were beginning to explore ways to improve our lives, using new types of bridles and saddles made from soft, supple leather. These saddles were comfy indeed, allowing us to work for long periods with more ease, though they didn’t have fancy, bouncy seats like some horses today have, that’s for sure! But I do think my old friend, Daisy, who worked in a local inn pulling a light cart, liked the new saddles a lot.
I also recall a young lad named John who had recently returned from serving with the Romans, bringing with him fascinating stories of horses he’d encountered on their long journeys, horses bred for speed and endurance. We all gathered to listen, tails flicking, ears pricked, and minds eager to learn. He described horses so lean and swift they could gallop like the wind. He told us stories of horse races with riders, wearing intricate gear that was far removed from our basic rope reins and crude wooden stirrups! And the stories of their magnificent stables, so much bigger and fancier than the little barns and hay-shelters in our area, made me wonder about the adventures to be had beyond Hayfield!
But while life with the Romans may have seemed exciting to young horses like me, our farmers told us tales of a harsher side to the Roman way of life. Stories of war, of people fighting, and of horses and men both losing their lives.
Even so, it was impossible to ignore the powerful Roman presence. It wasn’t only the occasional young man coming back to the village after serving with the Romans, we all could see the gradual change all around us. The farmers and merchants began speaking a new language alongside the old one. This strange “Latin” sounded oddly guttural and exciting to us horses, especially with the loud gestures that accompanied it. It wasn’t always understood, even by our own farmers and families.
This brings me to my favorite part of the year 753 – my new, little human companion! One crisp autumn morning, I felt the usual thrill as I pulled the wagon laden with freshly-harvested barley. But then, I heard a strange sound, almost like the chirping of a bird, only gentler and smaller. As I approached the town centre, there in a simple cart, beside her parents, was a young girl! Her parents were returning home after the big festival in the nearby village, but to my great surprise, they had also brought back a tiny girl. A baby.
I never cared much for those big, hairy dogs that chased after me. A cat or two I found amusing. But a tiny little baby, bundled in woolen wraps? Now that was something else!
So here I was, the strong grey mare hauling a cart to the very heart of the town, my little family was returning after the village fair, and this brand new life, just hours old, was amongst them. And the strangest part, they had put the baby in my cart! There was only a small basket full of fruit and cheeses left for me, all this new, warm, fragile life lay before me in a blanket, eyes closed, only making little soft sounds. I carefully moved my great strong legs and paced my hooves to the slowest and most careful walk, ensuring each bump and stone in the road was overcome with extra caution and care. That precious life was under my care! It was the greatest responsibility I had yet encountered, and one that, I believe, even then, had a unique place in my heart.
That tiny baby would grow, becoming a friend and a companion in time. It made the work, and all the other horses’ adventures, feel that much sweeter. It was, you could say, my tiny touch of hope for the future, a glimpse of the kindness that the Romans seemed to carry as well, as if somehow it was linked to the lives and spirits of their grand horses.
753 – a year of change and reflection for us in Hayfield, but above all, a year full of simple joys – the feel of warm sun on our coats, the comfort of friends, and the quiet sense of responsibility to those we served.
See you next week for another tale from the great world of Equiworld!
Yours, in all your mane-tastic glory, Emma the Grey Draught
