By: Tanya Boyd

It’s 3:00 a.m. and the shrill of the telephone roused me from a deep sleep. My husband, who reacts to the phone or doorbell as if it were a city band at the foot of the bed, was already standing in the middle of the floor, one foot in a pair of jeans. I reached for the phone.

It was Charlie, calling to let us know that a mare was about to foal. It was foaling season at Hilltop Farm, with 11 mares to foal this year. I’d never seen a foal born before, so had asked to be notified when the time was near. Charlie has been delivering foals for Hilltop for six or seven years now and he is an expert. Calm, quiet, and efficient, Charlie inspires trust and confidence in the mares, and has an excellent eye for anything out of the ordinary.

We dressed quickly and roared off in our little “Mule,” making the trip from our villa to the foaling barn in 2 minutes flat, and only going up on two wheels once. The mare who was foaling was Cor Dia, a big, black, beautiful mare, who was an experienced mother. This was her second foal, so the process was likely to be quick.

The weather in Maryland in March is quite chilly at night, so we were happy to see the warm, soft glow of light from the foaling barn appearing out of the darkness. We quietly slipped in through the sliding wooden door, and were immediately in the world of mothers and babies. The only lights were in the foaling stall and in the main office where the watchers stayed all night, regularly checking the mares.

The reddish glow from the heat lamp over Cor Dia’s double-sized stall was cozy. Charlie stood at the door watching her. All the other horses were restless also, sensing some special energy in the air. The barn is open in design, allowing most of the horses to see each other and to interact safely. The two foaling stalls at the end, however, were double wide and blocked off from the neighboring stalls to give the mother-to-be some privacy.

As we joined Charlie at the window, Cor Dia stood in the middle of the stall, tail already wrapped, head raised, ears flicked back, and neck damp with sweat. Her sides bulged, and as we watched, small spasms went through her flanks. Milk dripped from her upper onto the clean, bright straw that deeply covered the stall mats.

Charlie said it was almost time. Her water had already broken just a few minutes before. Pretty soon she would lie down and begin to push. The contraction passed for the moment, and Cor Dia lowered her head and paced restlessly around her stall. She was sweating more profusely now. Suddenly she stopped, with hind legs spread, tail raised. She swayed for a moment, and then lay down heavily on her right side. Almost immediately a white sack appeared, encasing a tiny, dark hoof. Cor Dia’s flanks quivered, and she grunted as she pushed. Her legs stuck straight out, stiff with the tension that was enveloping her body.

As long as things proceed normally, Charlie doesn’t enter the stall to help the mare. She had 30 minutes to get the job done, or else he would go in and assist her. She had chosen a safe place to lie down, with plenty of room for the foal, and everything looked normal so far, so we watched, somewhat breathlessly, from outside the stall. The white sack pulsed in and out of the mare as she pushed, but finally another leg joined the first, closely followed by a small muzzle, visible as another lump under the membrane. Cor Dia paused to rest for a moment, her side heaving and nostrils flared with the effort.

She lifted her head and looked back, as if to say, “What IS that?” and then lay her head down again and began pushing in earnest. The head appeared, laid out on top of the forelegs, one of which was farther ahead than the other. The next part would be the hardest, pushing the large shoulders through.

A few big grunts, and this was accomplished! At this point gravity helped out, and the rest of the foal slid out in a rush, landing in a heap on the straw. The last rush also broke the sack, and the foal’s little muzzle was soon poking around drunkenly through the opening, as it also moved its legs for the first time. Cor Dia, after lying motionless for a moment, exhausted, turned to look at the little creature. Exhaustion was forgotten, as she turned to exploring this new addition.

Her eyes were wide, ears pricked, as she rolled up onto her side, breaking the umbilical cord in the process. She nickered the soft, throaty sound unique to mothers, and nudged at the baby with her muzzle. He responded to her touch by more frantic gestures with his head and legs. Cor Dia began to clean him with her tongue, and this, combined with his own efforts, soon freed him from the remains of the sack and brought him closer to his mother’s head. He was black like her, with a big white star on his forehead, like a beacon of light in the darkness.

Soon mother decided it was time to get up, and she heaved herself to her feet, carefully avoiding her son. She talked to him through this process, as he was a bit alarmed at the sudden movement. She continued to lick him, nudging him with her nose at the same time. Not even in the world for 30 minutes and already he was being ordered to stand up!

Charlie did enter the stall at this point, to check the foal quickly and dip the umbilical stump in a weak iodine solution, against infection. He also used a towel and some twine to tie up the sack and cord so Cor Dia wouldn’t step on it and prematurely pull the placenta and afterbirth out. It can stay in the mare up to four hours following birth, but if it is pulled out too quickly it can tear, leaving part inside, which can easily result in a dangerous infection.

After this was done, Charlie came back out and we watched together as the foal made his first few attempts to stand. His long, stick-like legs did not really seem to be under his control, and he flailed them around, getting them stuck in the straw or tangled together, or on the wrong sides. He kept trying to push to a standing position, but ending up on his nose or in a heap. Cor Dia kept up constant encouragement through nickers, nudges, and licks. It was so hard to just watch; I wanted to go in the stall and help him.

I just knew that if he could get the legs in the right place and be standing, he could hold it. But Charlie said that the struggles to get to the standing position strengthen the foal for later standing and walking. So we waited. It took almost an hour of trial and error, but finally the foal gave a heave and was balanced like a little sawhorse on his four stick legs. He looked as surprised as we were for a moment (“Now how did I do that?”), but then his attention was on the next item of business – his first meal. The mare had a full bad, and it was available.

The little fellow swung his head in the air like a radar, and began nosing his mother. He tried licking and sucking on her neck, chest, elbows (he was SURE that was right!!), sides, stifles, hocks; and finally getting underneath in the right place. She stood patiently, waiting for him to figure it out, turning every now and then to nudge or lick him (almost tipping him off his feet in the process). She was the picture of the ideal mother; calm, efficient, loving, patient. It was a joy to watch a new life come into the world in this way.