A Preemie Foal and a Powder Keg Mare

Posted in: Featured, Horse Care, Ranch Life

The mare’s name was Taxes. We’d raised her and my then husband had started her and ridden her
quite a bit. She was a good looking mare, great conformation, and fantastic pedigree to boot. But, she was really touchy and hair triggered. Not mean or snaky, just lots of feel and reaction. Her good qualities
outweighed her touchiness, so, we decided to breed her and see how her offspring would be.
It was still a bit early for our mares to foal when Taxes had hers. The filly was tiny, clearly premature,
and had one front leg that didn’t want to work right, probably from uterine positioning. So, Taxes and
baby were in the barn.
The filly struggled to get up with the leg that wouldn’t straighten right, so I had put a splint on it to give
it stability. With it, the foal could stand and nurse somewhat, providing I helped her get up. She was so
petite that she could hardly reach the mare’s udder. It was cold and rainy so I had a warm dog blanket on her, as she was too premature to warm herself. All of this was pretty worrisome for Taxes, but she was doing okay with all the activity in such a small area. She was being a very good first time mother.
After several days of getting the filly up and helping her nurse every couple of hours, I could see that
the filly was losing ground. I was sure she wasn’t getting enough milk each time she nursed. The mare had a good bag, so availability wasn’t the problem. The foal just would get too tired to keep nursing and need to lay down again. I needed to intervene.
I’d milked many mares to help their foals, but never one who was a powder keg like Taxes. Being there alone most of the time, I was a bit concerned about getting hurt and no one there to drag me out of harm’s way. Having someone Taxes didn’t know come over would have been too much for her protective
mother instinct, so that was out. But, I had to do something or the foal wasn’t going to make it.
I haltered the mare and hung the rope on the fence so she could stand over her baby. I brushed her
and fussed over her to get her relaxed, and rubbed her very tight udder so she’d get used to that. Then,
pulling my big girl panties up, I pressed my head into her flank and, never losing contact, proceeded to
milk her. I felt her touch my side with her muzzle, then I felt her shift her weight, but it was only to move
her hind leg back out of the way. That goosey, touchy mare never moved again. I got a bottle of milk quite quickly, and kneeling on the floor by the foal, I got her started on the bottle. The foal was eager for the milk and drank all of the little bottle. Four ounces was a lot of milk for a small foal, and with her tummy full, she went to sleep in the straw.
For days and nights I milked Taxes and fed the foal, also helping her to get up and nurse on her own
so she wouldn’t forget how. I never had to halter the mare again. She would stand like a rock while I
milked her.
The cold, wet weather kept on, and I added a small vest to the blanket on the baby. Her body temperature wouldn’t come up without it. She was stronger but the leg was still a problem. I’d taken the
splint off and checked to be sure it wasn’t causing a sore, and her leg was better but not right yet, so I’d put it back on. She was enough stronger that she could get up and nurse on her own, so my night visits weren’t necessary any more. A bout of pneumonia was headed off with oral medicine, and she was coming back from that scare. It felt like we were winning.
A thunderstorm had blown through overnight and it had gotten cold again. I’d been back to the single
blanket on the filly and she’d been doing fine. The straw was kept fresh and deep in the barn, so it was still pretty cozy. Knowing that she could stand and nurse on her own had given me a break first thing in the morning, so a friend had stopped by for coffee.
My friend left and I headed toward the barn when I saw Taxes stick her head out over the door and
look toward me. She whinnied loud and withdrew. She did this several times as I walk that way. I knew
something was wrong, as she’d never done that before.
When I opened the door and stepped in, I saw the problem. The foal was down with her splint wedged
under a stall door, and she hadn’t been able to get up. Apparently it had happened early in the night, as she was badly chilled. Her mouth was cold and she was worn out from struggling.
Taxes kept nudging me, then the foal, like she was telling me to fix this problem. I lifted the foal over
to thicker bedding, and milked Taxes. It took a long time for the listless foal to get the bottle swallowed,
but she kept trying. Taxes was hovering over me as I fed the foal, nickering and talking to the baby.
At the house, I warmed a blanket in the dryer, bundled it up and took it out and put the warm blanket over everything but the foals face, then another blanket over that. Taxes examined it but left it alone, just
touching the filly’s face with her nose. The filly, exhausted, slept.

I had to do chores and check cows at the other place, so was gone for about two hours. When I
returned I milked Taxes again and tried to feed the filly, but she wasn’t trying very hard. Her body
temperature was improved, but not warm, in spite of the warm blanket and other coverings. I got part of
the bottle in her before she quit.
Finally, I went in for lunch. I was discouraged. To have come so far, then have this happen was paining my heart. I did some work in the house, then started out the door and back to the barn. I heard Taxes whinnying when she heard the screen door close. It was a different tone than I’d heard before.
When I entered the barn, Taxes nuzzled the filly then pushed me with her nose. I knelt by the foal
and found that she was dead. Getting too cold and too tired from trying to get up had finally extinguished the little fighter’s fire. My heart just broke. I’ll confess, I bawled as I stroked her perfect little body. Taxes held her head down by me and I petted her face. She knew.
I took the splint off of her leg, folded the blankets up, took the foal blanket off of her, and put them
all away. I laid her against the wall in the barn, out of the way but where Taxes could stand with her.
Drained, I hooked the barn door open so Taxes could finally go outside when she wanted to. She’d been
cooped up for nearly two weeks, after a lifetime of being outside. Still, she stayed with her foal, until
finally, the next day she went outside and looked around. A days or so later, she went out the gates to the grass trap, never returning to the foal, whereupon, I finally took the foal away.
That was a heartbreaking experience, but one thing it did do is this. The bond between Taxes and I
was absolutely solid. She and I were closer than she’d ever been to my then husband who had started and ridden her.
The next year, she had a strong, active stud colt and got to keep him out on pasture and raise him to
weaning. She was a very attentive mother and didn’t like the other mares very close. But me, I could come for a visit any time, and see her colt. We had a special bond and she trusted me completely.

foal

Posted in: Featured, Horse Care, Ranch Life


About Jan Swan Wood

Jan was raised on a ranch in far western South Dakota. She grew up horseback working all descriptions of cattle, plus sheep and horses. After leaving home she pursued a post-graduate study of cowboying and dayworking in Nebraska, New Mexico, Montana, Wyoming and South Dakota....

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