OT. A Christmas story

It was 4:am in the morning, three or four days before Christmas 1997

I had been prising myself out of my nice warm bed at that ungodly hour every morning for a week

The reason for my nocturnal activity at a time when all sane people were sleeping or playing poker stemmed from an incident the previous January, when an amorous stallion, ‘Tyson’ who belonged to my friend Amos decided to go a courting. The fact that the object of his affections, my yearling filly ‘Holly’ was almost three miles away didn’t seem to bother him, nor did he worry that she was somewhat below the age of consent

Holly, so named because of her penchant for reversing into said bushes to scratch her rump, was my pride and joy, an absolute little stunner out of one of my own mares. I did intend to breed from her, but not until she was at least 4 years old. Nature does however, allow horses to come into season at about 1 year old, and Holly was, as they say in the trade, “Ossin.”

From his vantage point on a grassy hill three miles away, Tyson was well aware of the situation, and one fateful night when the moon was full, he apparently decided to take matters into his own hands, or in this case, hooves.

How he got out of his field, across several busy roads, and into Holly’s field we will never really know, but there was no sign of damage anywhere, either to Tyson or the gates and fencing, we can only assume he jumped them. Horses are not natural jumpers, they have to be taught, lovesick stallions must be very quick learners

The upshot was, when I visited Holly’s field the following morning I was horrified to see her trotting gaily along, closely followed by her would be suitor, who sniffed and nibbled at her hind quarters, occasionally lifting his head and curling his top lip like the toe of a Turkish slipper. Classic horsey “How about it?” behaviour.

I was somewhat relieved to see that she wasn’t ‘Standing’ for him yet, and managed to convince myself that disaster had been avoided, although the glint in his eye as I led him away made me feel very uneasy

Winter gave way to spring and spring became summer, Holly grew ever fatter. I tried to convince myself that it was just down to the lush pasture and the fact that she was a “Good do’er” but by the onset of the next winter I could no longer deny it, Holly was pregnant!!

Gestation in horses lasts about 340 days, give or take a week, we were expecting a baby for Christmas

Now it was 4:am on a freezing winter morning and Holly was due. I had been keeping an eye on her for about a week, popping down to her field last thing at night, first thing in the morning, and as often as I could in between, pacing about, smoking and generally behaving like an expectant father

I knew she was close to her time, she was keeping her distance from the other mares, she was bagged up (slightly distended with milk) and, the most reliable of signs, she had waxed. A few hours (not more than 24) before a mare foals she develops a waxy coating on her teats. I fully expected her to foal that morning

I dressed quickly, made myself a flask of tea, grabbed my big rechargeable searchlight, put on my heavy topcoat and stepped outside into an incredibly beautiful night. The air was absolutely still, and the sky was filled with so many stars it looked unreal, I spent a moment lost in wonder, contemplating those things that we mere mortals are not really equipped to contemplate, I felt like I was about to witness something magical

When I arrived at the field I didn’t use my searchlight, I could see by the light of the stars that Holly was still standing away from the other mares, as I walked towards her I realised with a start that her foal was behind her, It was on it’s feet, that was a good start

I was desperate to get a look at the foal but first things first; I switched on my torch and cast around looking for the afterbirth. Cows are quite happy to retain their afterbirth for ages with no ill affects, but if a horse doesn’t “Cleanse” within a very short time she will die. I found it lying on the grass a few moments later and after checking that it was intact I turned my attention to the foal

Mares with brand new foals can be a bit leery but Holly was a good as gold, ambling towards me and allowing me to scratch her mane. I whispered to her, telling her what a clever girl she was. Although the foal looked quite dry (indicating that it had been born for quite some time) it didn’t look altogether “right” somehow. It wasn’t moving away from me to hide behind its mother as foals always do, it just stood there, swaying slightly and breathing to heavily for my liking. I caught a hold of it without a struggle and gave it a quick once over, I could see no obvious problems. I lifted its tail, I was pleased to find it was a filly, but I really wanted to see if there was any sign of a bowel movement, a foal’s first meal isn’t really milk, but a rich thick yellow soup called colostrum, this first drink is vitally important because it contains all the antibodies the foal needs to ward off disease until it can produce It’s own, there was no bright yellow tell-tale stain

I moved away a few yards and sat down to watch, after a short while the foal walked unsteadily to the mares side and put it’s head beneath her belly searching for the teat, as soon as it’s muzzle made contact the mare lashed out with a full blooded kick which sent the foal flying, suddenly it all became clear, she wouldn’t let the poor little blighter drink

Before I could think what to do, the foal had struggled back to its feet and thrust it’s head beneath the mare again, only to suffer more of the same. I have no doubt that it would have continued until she killed it or it became too weak to stand. It was driven by instinct; it was the only thing it knew. I gathered the foal up in my arms and carried it home, Holly returned to her grazing, totally unconcerned

I had an old van body that I used as a makeshift stable, Gypsy horses don’t really need stables, they have been bred to live outdoors for hundreds of years, but at times like this, they can come in handy. I installed the foal in some nice dry straw and went back to get the mare, I was determined to see that the foal got it’s all important colostrum feed, so, with the help of Mrs Red I set about forcing the mare to cooperate.

What a battle of wills it turned out to be. Mrs Red and I were determined the foal would drink, the mare was determined that it would not. Most determined of all was the foal itself, no matter how many times it was kicked during that long long night, it never gave up, and our hearts went out to it

We started by putting a bridle with blinkers on the mare, then we tied her head up short and I held one of her front feet up because it’s hard for a horse to kick in that position, still she managed it somehow, almost falling over in the process, each time the foal managed to get no more than a sip or two. In the end I hobbled the mares back legs by tying them together with a short length of rope and held one front foot up, she tried one last kick and fell over, almost crushing all three of us, then, knowing she was beaten she stood still and let the foal drink. I don’t know how much it got, after a while I tried to squeeze a little milk by hand, he teat was dry, I lead the mare back to the field, there was no point in keeping her here, we had done all we could

When I returned Mrs Red (God bless her) had made a pot of fresh tea and some bacon sandwiches, we sat together watching the sunrise and discussed the foals future

We decided to try to bottle feed her (you can buy special livestock bottles and powdered mares milk in 50 kilo bags) It’s not easy, and not always successful, but my biggest concern was the effect it would have on the foal, if it lived

Horses are herd animals. They have a pecking order and a vast array of signals and behaviour patterns, rules that must be observed. Our foal would know nothing of these rules, in fact it wouldn’t even know that it was a horse, the rest of the herd would view it with suspicion, it could be ostracised, maybe even killed

The next couple of days were a nightmare of trying to feed the foal, cleaning everything, and then doing it all over again. The foal seemed to grow weaker instead of stronger, showing less and less interest in the bottle, Mrs Red refused to let it die, coaxing and forcing milk into it, I did my best to remain optimistic, but deep down I didn’t hold out much hope

Then, on Christmas Eve someone rang me to tell me he had a mare that had just given birth to a stillborn foal, he had heard about my foal on the grapevine and wondered if I wanted to try to get his mare to foster it.

I had no idea if this plan would work but I jumped at the chance, “When can I fetch her?” I asked. “She’s already in my horsebox” he replied, “I’m on my way”

He arrived about two hours later; he had driven all the way from Wisbech

He unloaded his mare, a beautiful skewball, and we walked her into my stable having removed the foal first. She was obviously missing her foal and she rolled her eyes and laid her ears back, we put the blinkered bridle on her and tied her head up short, she was skittish and kept swinging her hind quarters around, trying to look behind her

We were worried that she would attack my foal if it didn’t smell right, so we decided to try to sabotage her sense of smell. We made a strong Dettol mix and rubbed it all over the mare and the foal, then I rubbed some neat onto her muzzle, now everything smelled of the same thing, Dettol

We brought the foal in and pushed it toward the teat, it started to suck straight away and the mare didn’t even flinch, in fact after a few moments she visibly relaxed, you could see the tension flowing out of her with the milk. The foal was oblivious to everything, legs splayed, head thrust beneath the mare, sucking for all she was worth, she was born again, and she was doing what she was born to do, it was the best Christmas present I’ve ever had, My own Christmas miracle

I kept the mare over the winter, no charge “Cept free grazing” The ‘Foster’ filly, as she became known, never looked back, and her real mother Holly went on to have other foals and was an excellent mother

Here they are together, they look more like sisters than mother and daughter

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