Hello, fellow equines! It's Emma here, your resident draught horse from Hayfield, near the bustling town of Aberdeen in the beautiful land of Scotland. Today, we're taking a trip back in time, all the way to the year 778, to delve into a fascinating chapter in our equine history.
As a grey mare with a snowy white mane and tail, I have always found myself fascinated by the tales whispered amongst the older horses - tales of our ancestors, of empires rising and falling, of heroes riding to battle, and of everyday life lived by those who came before us. Today, I'll be sharing a glimpse into the life of a horse like myself in the year 778 AD.
First things first, let me assure you, the world of 778 AD wasn’t all galloping through emerald meadows and chasing butterflies. This was a time of shifting empires and growing conflict, with kingdoms vying for dominance. But the heart of our lives, as always, remained in the field, the stable, and the quiet connection between horse and human.
Our main duty back then was primarily centered on agriculture, like it still is today for many of us. The horses of Hayfield and its surrounding lands were the backbone of the community. We pulled plows through the fields, helping the farmers prepare the land for planting crops like barley, oats, and the hardy, life-sustaining wheat.
The journey of a plough horse isn’t glamorous. The sun beats down, the wind whips across our backs, and our hooves turn the hard earth into fertile ground. It’s grueling work, but rewarding too. We get to experience the change of seasons – from the icy chill of winter to the joyous warmth of summer - all whilst working side by side with our humans. And those humans, those strong and skilled folks who shared their lives with us, we owe a debt of gratitude. They provided shelter, food, and a strong sense of community. They treated us with respect, often praising our strength and endurance.
Though many of us spent our days with a nose to the plow, life for a horse wasn’t entirely about toil and labour. There were moments of pure joy and freedom - those cherished occasions when we were allowed to run free across the hills, feeling the wind in our manes and the thrill of boundless movement. These were the moments that reminded us of our innate wildness, a spirit that even a life of hard work couldn't fully tame.
But not all horses in 778 AD were destined for the farm fields. Some of us, the swiftest and the bravest, were chosen to serve in the armies of the great kings and chieftains. I remember the day, a vibrant memory for all Hayfield horses, when a group of noble, spirited stallions were chosen for battle. I recall watching them stand proudly, gleaming in the morning light, their manes like flowing rivers, as they prepared to leave our home, their eyes bright with anticipation. It filled me with both pride and a touch of sadness. Those brave horses would serve a higher purpose, fighting for their lords and their people, while we stayed back to support our own community.
The world was in flux back in those days, the lines between kingdoms always in motion. This was the year when King Charlemagne of the Franks marched against the Basque people, only to face a brutal defeat at the hands of their valiant warriors in the Battle of Roncevaux Pass. Sadly, many of Charlemagne's finest knights and soldiers lost their lives in that fierce conflict, but the stories of their courage echoed across the land, reaching even the furthest pastures.
The clash of kingdoms wasn't just a story in a far-off land. It had real consequences here in Scotland, where the Picts, a strong and proud people, were still fighting for their independence against the ever-expanding power of the Northumbrian English. Their brave resistance mirrored the spirit of those fighting Basque warriors in the south. Even from the fields of Hayfield, we felt the reverberations of those distant conflicts, knowing that they shaped the world around us, even in the lives of quiet draught horses like myself.
As the sun sets and I rest under the warm glow of twilight, my thoughts drift to the horses who came before me. Their journey through time, their contributions to our shared equine heritage, and the challenges they faced – all leave a deep impact. I think about their legacy – our history as a species is rich and vast. Our lineage can be traced back to the wild horses of the ancient plains, who roamed free with the wind in their manes, shaping the world as we know it today.
Through the changing seasons, empires rise and fall, yet our connection with humans, our role as partners, helpers, and friends endures. This connection is a thread that weaves through history, connecting us to the past, present, and future. This year, 778 AD, may be a blip in the grand timeline of history, yet it reminds us of our enduring role in shaping human lives.
As I prepare to rest, I offer a silent thank you to those who came before me. Their tireless efforts paved the way for a life I am so grateful for. Until next time, stay well, my equine friends. Remember, our history is an epic saga waiting to be discovered and cherished, one hoofbeat at a time.
