Greetings, fellow equine enthusiasts! Emma here, a grey mare with a heart of gold, a tail as white as a winter’s snow, and a head full of memories from the year 1090. You might think that a thousand years ago was a very long time, but for a horse like me, life moves at a different pace, and those memories still feel as vivid as the day they occurred.
This blog post is my take on the world of horses in the year 1090. You might find it a tad different to your modern world of high-powered competitions and Olympic games. In those days, horses were our lifeblood – our strength, our transport, and our trusted companions. And in my corner of the world, Hayfield near Aberdeen, Scotland, the life of a draught horse like me was simple but rewarding.
A Day in the Life of a Draught Horse
I wake before the sun, the cold, crisp air tingling on my nostrils. My sturdy wooden stall offers comfort and warmth, and a generous handful of oats, a reward for the day's work to come.
After breakfast, it’s a gentle walk to the fields. A farmer called Angus owns me, a good soul with kind eyes and a booming laugh. We share a silent understanding, a deep connection forged in the toil of the land.
Our days are filled with the rhythms of nature. Plowing the fields with the heavy wooden plow is a demanding task, the muscles in my powerful back straining under the weight. The rich soil is a welcome earthy scent that fills my senses. Sometimes, Angus brings me a barley straw basket to chew on as I rest, my rhythmic chewing the only sound in the tranquil field.
But it’s not all work, oh no! When the summer comes, Angus lets me graze on the greenest grass and drink from the sparkling river nearby. I find contentment in the simple pleasures - the warmth of the sun on my coat, the gentle breeze whispering through my mane, and the joy of camaraderie with the other horses on the farm. We're a close-knit family - Dobbin, the stalwart bay gelding with a playful twinkle in his eye, and the graceful chestnut mare, Isla, whose flowing tail sways in the wind like a willow branch.
Horses Beyond the Farm
But my world extends far beyond the boundaries of our farm. On the ancient track that leads out of Hayfield, I see other horses: magnificent warhorses in their shining armour, ridden by knights and warriors heading south, carrying whispers of conflict and turmoil in faraway lands. There are horses carrying trade goods to the bustling city of Aberdeen, sturdy packhorses with loaded panniers laden with food and necessities.
Every now and then, a rider comes to Hayfield looking for a horse of strength and endurance, a strong steed to journey far. I stand with my head held high as the rider circles me, assesses my broad shoulders, and admires my surefooted stride. I always watch the departing rider with a mix of curiosity and envy. Where will they go? What will they see? These travellers are like fleeting dreams, carrying stories and adventures on their saddles.
A Glimpse of the World Outside
The world beyond Hayfield, though mostly just tales and rumours carried by passing travellers, has been stirring in these last few years. A storm is brewing in the south, I hear, where the mighty William the Conqueror, a man who rides at the head of an army of warhorses, claims he is a king. His banner flies, and news arrives with every travelling merchant, telling stories of conflict, bloodshed, and upheaval.
My farmer, Angus, has a knowing glint in his eye when he speaks of these events. He is a man of wisdom and experience. "These are troubled times, lass," he'll say, stroking my neck. "War is coming, but we must remain strong, for that is what the land needs from us horses."
And that is what we do. We are the steady heartbeat of a nation, working the fields, transporting goods, and carrying those brave knights on their missions, whether they are for war or for peace.
A Glimpse into the Future
It’s been years since I first wrote on this site, but as I reflect upon these times, I understand what it means to be a horse in 1090. We are integral to the fabric of society, we are the unsung heroes, the workhorses of a bustling nation. But the seeds of change are being sown. I hear murmurs about a strange device that might be even stronger than a horse, an invention of men with cogs and wheels and steam that rumbles in the distance.
I cannot tell what tomorrow holds, what changes are coming to our world. But for now, I'm happy to live my life, working the fields, grazing in the meadows, and carrying the weight of a world on my powerful shoulders. And as a grey mare, I have no doubt, that whatever the future brings, horses will find a way, as we have always done, to adapt, to endure, and to remain forever woven into the tapestry of life itself.
Thank you for reading, fellow EquiWorld enthusiasts!
Emma.
