A wee greeting to you all from Emma!
It's the year 1431 and as I nibble on the lush green grass of Hayfield, just outside Aberdeen, the sun feels warm on my back. It's a beautiful summer day, perfect for a good roll in the soft earth. I’m a 20-year-old grey draught mare, strong as an ox and with a proud white mane and tail that flow like silk in the breeze. Life's been good to me, and life has definitely been about the horses! So settle down and let me tell you all about a typical year in the life of a working horse like myself!
The Rhythm of Farm Life
Hayfield is my home, and here the rhythm of life is measured in the cycle of the seasons. In the spring, we all wake up from winter slumber and feel the urge to stretch our legs and graze. The ground thaws, the snow melts away, and the air becomes crisp with the promise of a busy summer ahead. My strong legs are ready to pull the plough, helping the farmer turn the soil, ready to receive the precious seed. It’s a time of new beginnings and endless possibilities.
As the days lengthen and the sun warms the land, we get busy with other essential tasks. Hauling grain, carting manure, and transporting supplies around the village all keep us active. And of course, we need plenty of barley, oats, and hay to keep us strong for all this hard work.
It's during these bustling months that the village comes alive. The smell of wood smoke from the bakery mixes with the scent of wildflowers and hay. Children’s laughter fills the air, and their excitement at seeing our horses coming home in the evenings adds a certain charm.
But what brings me the greatest pleasure, in truth, is when I’m not required for heavy work, but to journey on the ‘Long Road’ – the dusty path that stretches through the Highlands.
Travelling on the Long Road
My heart quickens with anticipation when the call comes. The young farmer, David, a fine lad with hands like warm leather and a smile that brightens any day, prepares a laden wagon, carefully placing bales of wool and sturdy crates full of farm produce on top. And then… he turns to me, pats my neck with a gentle hand, and says: "Ready for a long journey, Emma?"
I neigh softly, happy to feel the wind rush through my mane as I trot along the rugged mountain roads. I enjoy these long journeys, watching the scenery unfold, the hillsides dappled in shades of purple heather and the valleys bursting with emerald green. We see deer leaping through the trees, eagles soaring high above, and shepherds guiding their sheep. Every step brings something new and wondrous, making me grateful for the freedom to experience it all.
The Grand Gathering at the Borders
Our destination is often the Borders, a place where horses and humans from far and wide gather for the yearly "Highland Games". These games are a sight to behold.
Men and women in colorful costumes gather, their faces glowing with anticipation. We horses stand tall, heads held high, proudly showing off our strength and stamina. It’s a time for competition, where men test their skill in archery and sword fighting. The crowd roars with excitement when they cheer for the valiant knights, the fastest runners, or the most agile riders.
I stand patiently through the event, my big hooves digging into the soft ground. David takes a place among the competitors. He’s a good archer, but he’s not in it to win, not really. The joy is in participating. But you know me – I always keep my eyes on the prize! I don't have much of a chance for an adventure in these big competitions. Still, the thrill of being there, feeling the ground rumble under the weight of hooves, is something that truly delights me.
And sometimes... when David is tired, and he needs a ride home on his own, I'm allowed to go with him, close beside him. He laughs with glee at this. "You've got a real competitive streak in you, haven’t you Emma!"
There's a quiet camaraderie in the air, an understanding between horses and humans, a silent agreement that transcends words. It's this that truly connects us. It's why, when David leans down to stroke my nose, I allow him to run his hand gently through my white mane. He is like family, a brother.
An Ordinary Horse in Extraordinary Times
It’s the people I most love, their lives interwoven with mine, making each day unique and precious. While grand events unfold in the world – battles, kings, the Pope, and political machinations that none of us horses understand – life goes on in the humble village of Hayfield, following its own rhythm.
Sometimes, when we stand at the edge of our fields, we watch as the clouds roll across the blue sky. Or we smell the sweet, earthy scents from the nearby meadow. Life, in this simple world of horses and humans, seems pretty much the same.
There's an unspoken contentment in knowing I'm a part of something larger than myself. We horses aren’t just creatures of strength; we're friends, companions, and helpers.
That, dear reader, is my tale. It’s an ordinary horse story, but one I cherish deeply. After all, these quiet, steady, hard-working days, are all I know and all I need. So much, however, is in the heart of a horse. A lot of the magic of this era is contained there. It’s all around us. I can see the echoes of past eras on the path, I hear them on the breeze, feel them beneath my hooves. This time in history is all in the memories of the earth, and the whispers of wind, just for us horses to enjoy.
Until next time, fellow equi-friends.
Emma the Draught Mare
www.equiworld.org
