Orphan Foal Bodega
At 3p.m. Quijotita, our rising 6 year old PRE mare, took us all by surprise with a very rapid birthing in the paddock.
The birth was not an easy one. She birthed a big foal, and even though QT is a big mare, this is her first foaling. She had a quick labour, but it was strong. Once baby was safe on the ground we called the vet for a checkover.
QT was not perturbed, and took happily to mothering. The foal, a filly, is TALL with the longest of legs, and is probably the calmest foal I have seen in a long time.
At barely an hour old she was perfectly relaxed, just leaning against my legs while her mommy was being washed down. Quite happy for any and all of us who were around - Andres, vet & myself - to touch her, lift her, move her, etc.
She was keen to suck, and needed help finding the milk: She is so tall she couldn’t figure out how to bend her legs enough to reach it. Eventually she latched on (literally!) but we need to go out every half hour to make sure she's getting it right.
I have been there all through it, and am just plain exhausted.
Quijotita came down suddenly with a serious post partum colic, and within 12 hours we had lost her. We now have an orphan foal to feed, care for and raise.
It is one of the risks of breeding. Last year a breeder friend lost one of his mares to post partum colic when her foal was just 24 hours old. It was not her first foal, nor was it a difficult birth. Fortunately another of his mares adopted that foal and raised it with her own.
But that is not going to happen here. Bravio was born barely 12 hours before Bodega - and his mother Serranilla is fiercely protective of her baby and her territory. So we are faced with raising this orphan foal by hand.
After 3 days of practically no sleep and the tragedy of losing QT, some thoughts over coffee
Keep on Rejoicing . . .in your Horses and in Life.
Nothing takes the loss away. And nothing takes away the 6 years filled with our memories of Quijotita.
Those are what will triumph.
- QT with her head up, elegance written in every line.
- Resting her head on Andres’ shoulder.
- Looking down that distinctly Iberian nose at Justyn.
- Coming across the paddock just for a snuggle.
Yes, I am raw. But it is another reminder that we should never hold back on sharing the joy of our horses.
That joy is a musical echo of what we shared with the lovely lady, a symphony declaring that these moments we have are precious and special - and for sharing. Every horse is an instrument in the orchestra, each contributing in a way that no other can. Every owner is the artist who brings out unsuspected nuances.
And we the players are not immaculately clad in starched white shirt and tails, or sweeping ballgowns. Right now I am in old jeans and a thick waterproof jacket, with functional boots on my feet and a waterproof fishing-style hat on top of unbrushed hair.
I have just got in from feeding Bodega, and maybe a rather sleep deprived night is making me philosophical over my coffee. Let it be so. I hold to the faith of joy, and the joy of sharing. Every incident and every laugh, every success and temporary hiccup are notes of triumph adding to the soaring proclamation of life.
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