The second little foal arrives!

My husband was shocked when I mentioned to him that I had organised to take Missy my 12 year old Arab mare to be bred with a Waler stallion about 20km away. I had organised a friend with her horse float and was all ready to start the grand plan of breeding my mare, so my one year old daughter could have her very own little safe horse, so that we could go on camping horse holidays together or maybe just to start with, trail rides around home.

So off I went on my dream mission, to have two quiet loving horses to ride for me and Ardenne.
I never thought about the stress that comes with having two foals being born so close together, mix that with an almost two year old and a husband that is not too impressed with the choice I made, and last of all trying to keep a house, farm, garden, and my part time work happy.
Lets say it was an interesting time. Sadly the foaling alarm that I had borrowed from my dear friend decided that Missy was too rough on it as she rubbed it against a pine tree and from then on it decided it was ultra sensitive and would beep from the slightest shaking of her head.

So the hard slog began. Missy bagged up and because I am still an nervous unexperienced pregnant mare watcher, I started getting up in the middle of the night over a week early to check her more that once in the night and early morning. My husband tried to warn me that she was not ready, yet do women really listen to their husbands with these sorts of situation? Well of course the answer is no and well he seemed so laid back about it all, I felt frustrated that I was the solo midwife and the only person who cared. Um sorry I got a bit carried away.

Any way the positive side to trudging out into the paddock in the middle of the night was meeting all the different kinds of owls and bandicoots.  It was a week of clear bright moonlight. Luckily I left the dogs in the yard seeing as bandicoots seem the most um how do I say it nicely, um hopeless creatures, I would almost step on them and then when the torch hit them they kind of froze and just gave me that big eyed hopeless look as if to say, I can’t move I’m embarrassed with all this attention.
One morning after giving my husband the third degree and drilling him on what his plans were for the day, and then threatening him that if he was not available to watch our daughter then all hell would break loose, Missy finally showed the sign that birth was imminent within 24 hours.  
Did he not understand that life must stand still for this event, why an earth should he have to work? surely he should be on call, a baby was about to arrive. I thought back to when my legs were in stirrups, he seemed to pop out from time to time to watch the cricket.

Missy developed big blobs of wax that were hanging from her teats that soon turned into milk running down her legs by lunch time. She also looked agitated and was having some early signs of labour.
After lifting her tail for the hundredth time and staring at her udder I decided that this baby was going to come sooner than later, that is I thought maybe in the middle of the night rather than early morning.

My daughter spotted me and with feelings of guilt I decided to take her for a ten minute drive to see the camel up the road. Ardenne seems addicted to the car and often dreams at night calling out car, car.
As I pulled up onto the dirt road just meters away was a huge wedge tail obviously trying to catch mice in the long grass. I pulled over and we watched him hover over us. A great sign, seeing as birds often are bearers of news. We drove on and I let Ardenne out of the car to see this giant novelty of a creature that looked strange in these lush green pastures. Sadly adrenne spotted a car a hundred meters away and frantically called car, car and then totally ignored the camel.
I had also noticed at home that the horses were such a normal part of the scenery that she hardly gave them a look, yet daddy’s red tractor was the bees knees as well as the ride on and any thing that had wheels even the wheel barrow was more exciting than the horses.    

Back at home I checked Missy and declared to my husband that Missy would give birth in a few hours. Ardenne went to bed and conveniently at 7pm Missy lay down and began giving birth. After labouring for over twenty minuets and seeing a leg sticking out my husband quietly walked towards her, he had not spoken a word, I was mesmerised as he rolled up his sleeves as knelt down and began pulling the little foal out. I guess he was number one midwife now! A splash of white his head was out and then followed this red body. A chestnut. I was amazed as I had told my mother and husband that it would be a chestnut colt, and indeed it was.  

Welcome Sharlan!

The ringing of the foaling alarm woke me from a deep sleep. I shot upright and was amazed that it was broad day light, I glanced at the clock, seven am. I felt relaxed seeing as I had risen in the early hours the night before for a false alarm. I was also becoming desensitised from constantly checking Roxy that I could scarcely believe it could happen at such a convenient time. I reasoned with myself that I need not rush to slip on my jeans and jumper surely the whole process would take more than five minutes.  I was met at the door by two excited dogs and two hungry cats, did I have time to give them their morning crunchies? No, no I reminded myself the cats could wait.

 I left the dogs in the yard and headed out noticing the gathering clouds. I reached the paddock expecting to see Roxy hiding in a corner yet true to her style she was lying in the open on the far side of the paddock, That is as far away from me as possible., and beside her  lay her foal, still immersed in a big white sack with only a little black head poking out. My heart skipped a beat, it dawned that this really was a reality. I had predicted a boy and as I approached I saw Roxy tense, I crouched down and slowly made my way to mother and baby who were still lying on the ground.

I had come prepared with a towel and slowly and quietly began rubbing the little black foal to dry his coat. All black with no markings and an amazing curly coat. I lifted his leg and confirmed that the foal was indeed a boy. Roxy rose and out came her placenta; I was impressed at this efficient mare. If only my birth was that easy!

I noted the solid strong appearance true to his father’s immense bulk  he would indeed fill his ancestors shoes.

The foal had one thing on his mind, he was desperate to stand. I have not witnessed many horses being born but I knew that this one was in a hurry to greet life. Oblivious to me he rose on wonky stilts for legs only to fall and roll down the slight slope. Up again, with his mother grunting in urgent protective calls. Up he rose and like a man on a mission he nosed and wobbled his way to his mother’s side. Roxy was not too impressed that I was present and refused to stand still to let him drink.

I retreated and watched at a distance as this beautiful strong black foal found his mothers teat and drank heartily of the liquid gold that is a mother’s first drop.

Did I make a mistake in that moment?  Should I have insisted in being there, imprinting him to override his mother’s dislike. Would I pay for not spending more time in those precious first hours that people say make all the difference in the human and horse relationship?

His name is Sharlan, meaning free man. My neighbour said be careful what you name him. Yet I want this little individual to have freedom. Freedom without pain from a piece of metal in his sensitive mouth. Freedom to run in a heard and not be locked up in a box or treated like a toy. Freedom to run barefoot without metal shoes that restrict him. Free without excessive  pressure, whips and spurs.  Free to live without fear and pain. So I have a lot to live up to, to fill my promise to Sharlan.

Our first moment

I sat on the ground with two dogs, one insistently lifting my hand with his wet nose demanding pats and scratches. My thoughts wondered as my hand was set on automatic scratch mode. I was dreaming of the foal that was about to be born. I watched his mother stamping her hoof and swishing her tail. I knew it would be tonight as I had noticed milk running down her legs.

It had been a strange sequence of events that lead me to this point, to this cloudy still night.  

Two years before I had this crazy impulsive idea, not at all unlike me, to breed from a Friesian stallion, for those who don’t know what a Friesian is or may think it could be a dairy cow, think again, it is a mythical black shaggy noble horse that once carried knights into battle.

So to get back to the story I had this crazy idea and purchased a Friesian’s service fee, um that is I purchased his sperm. Any way I had a friends mare that had been offered to me to carry the foal so my sister and I collected it in a container, not personally mind you and drove it four hours to my friends house and then got the vet to inseminator her.  

Sadly the mare slipped the foal and another year passed.

I was looking through horse deals, a big for sale horse magazine, dreaming of a big black mare so I could breed to the Friesian. Amazingly I found her. She looked at me through the black and white photo and said I am yours!

Not impulsive at all, but I happened to know the people and haggled and before you know it, sight unseen she was coming my way, my husband was horrified.  

When she stepped off the float I was shocked at how wide she was, the photo had not done her justice, she was huge. The second thing I noticed was that her ears seemed to be glued back to her head with a kind of come near me and I will kill you expression. The beauty mark on her face was a permanent snarl line.

Well that could not deter me, this was my lifelong dream, to breed an uncomplicated quiet gentle horse, um did I pick the right mother, I guess that’s what happens when you make a decision on looks.

Well after being bitten a few times and a few kilos lost on my behalf chasing her around the paddock we have finally come to an understanding and I was amazed that the other day after a year and a half she did not put her ears back once, mind you that is not the case every day.

So I sat in the growing darkness as my black cat nudged his way onto my lap to my dogs disgust, sitting there full of excitement in anticipation of the new family member. The foaling alarm was safely attached. I rose with stiff legs thinking that I would be getting up all through the night I made my way to bed. My husband chose to sleep in the spare room due to the foaling alarm noise, so much for support; it looked like I was doing this alone. I lay my head on the pillow willing sleep, yet I seemed to stir to every sound, the owls hoot the pump droning from a dripping tap. Alas  sleep came at last.