The Miracle of Birth

Xanadu sired several very choice offspring. Some had show records but all were loved by their owners. My old mare, Missy, had the first foal by Xanadu, conceived during one of their non-approved moonlight trysts. Honey Bee, the mare I had purchased specifically to breed to Xanadu, had the next one, a beautiful filly I named Ladyhawke after the movie of the same name. I remember well the evening she was born. This was an important birth for me. Honey Bee had Merry Go Boy bloodlines and was a gorgeous black roan mare with two white hind leg stockings that went nearly to her hocks. I was nervous as I went to the barn for the final bed check. What if I missed being there for the birth and something went wrong? The mare had had foals before, and subsequent births are usually easier than first ones, but still, I was anxious. When I looked in Honey Bee’s stall it was evident she was starting labor.

How lucky for me. Usually I made many night time trips to the barn to check on a mare ready to foal. And more often than not, she fooled me and had her foal between checks. A mare can control the time of her delivery for many hours, a great ability if she is being chased by wolves or experiencing another menacing situation. With domestic mares about the worst hardship they experience is the light being turned on and someone looking at them, but they still seem to dislike the attention enough that they will wait until you leave the barn.

The mare lay on her side and was already pushing in time with her strong contractions. Mares give birth like most horses live—explosively.  Their contractions are very strong and a mare pushes with great force. If she is having a problem birth (foal positioned wrong such as only one front leg coming out, or all the legs doubled underneath the foal), mare and foal usually die without immediate veterinarian assistance. Horses live reactively and are seldom patient whether caught in a fence, injured or giving birth. 

I waited for the two little white bulbs which were the front feet to appear. The hooves are very soft at birth to prevent injury to the mare’s birth channel. This is always a worrisome time, and I hoped I would see two, not just one. When both feet appeared, I gave a sigh of relief, grasped them and assisted with the birth, pulling as the mare pushed, all the while talking to her with soft words of encouragement and praise. Soon the head was out, then the shoulders. The shoulders are a hard part for the mare as they are a wide part of the foal. One foot comes a little ahead of the other so the shoulders can come the same way, making delivery easier. As I pulled, I did so in the same manner, keeping one leg ahead of the other. After the shoulders were born, the rest of the body slid out effortlessly in the warm birth waters with just the hind legs remaining within the mare.

Honey Bee was spent, having worked hard at the delivery even with my help, and stayed on her side gathering her strength. The white umbilical cord was still attached to the placenta which was within the mare. I quickly cleared the remains of the placental membrane that partially covered the foal’s head. I could see that there was no white, just a completely black head. I gently slid the foal’s hind feet from the mare, but otherwise left them alone. Mare and foal seemed to be fine, the baby was starting to struggle and squirm in the wetness of birth fluids. Honey Bee nickered softly but remained down and resting. She felt comfortable with my presence which made me feel good. Some mares are quicker to get up and in so doing break the umbilical cord, but if they will stay down a little they can recover more strength.

It was a relatively warm evening, but the foal was wet. In my nurse-maid role, I rubbed it with clean towels. Still Honey Bee rested. I couldn’t wait any longer; I had to see if we had a girl or boy. Lifting the little wet tail, I saw that it was a filly, all black except for a little spot of white on a hind foot. She had missed inheriting her mom’s white stockings. As the filly’s movements escalated in her attempts to get up, Honey Bee decided it was time to take over the job as mother and rose, broke the umbilical cord and began to lick and nuzzle the foal.

Mares do not do as much licking as cows. I have seen a cow knock a calf over with her vigorous cleaning, but in the process cattle do a much better job of drying off their calves than a mare does with her foal. Honey Bee nickered soft mother noises, but the foal was too busy trying to gain her feet to give mom much heed. The urge to get up is strong, a natural instinct to avoid a vulnerability to predators. As soon as the foal is out of the womb, if all is well and it is healthy, it begins the ordeal of gaining its feet. I have seen some of my foals get up before their mothers.

At birth Tennessee Walking Horse foals are different from trotting babies. Their legs are frequently longer and more wobbly and they seem to have a harder time getting those dangling long legs to fold and manipulate under their little bodies to gain any kind of a foothold. As their lives go on, this will make them great Walkers, but these qualities do not make it easy to rise. The special attributes of trotting horses such as the Quarter Horse, Arabian or Morgan make them sturdy and well muscled ready to sprint quickly and turn and stop fast. A Walking Horse, genetically programmed for gliding over the ground has a little different conformation.

  The filly got part of her body up, and then wavered, wobbled and finally flopped over again. A couple more awkward, drunken-looking tries and she finally stood on four spindly and uncertain legs. I looked on proudly; Honey Bee watched with satisfaction; and the newest member of our farm blinked, seemingly amazed, at her first accomplishment. Then she managed to seek her first meal. Honey Bee was a pro and stood still while the foal nuzzled her body searching for just the right place. The act of getting this first meal isn’t as easy as it seems. New mothers turn around just as the foal is reaching for the hidden teat between her hind legs, or the foals insist that surely the udder is placed between the front legs!

I was very proud of Ladyhawke and showed her as a yearling in the halter classes. She had Xanadu’s great good nature. Ladyhawke’s dam with that Merry Go Boy blood added some more beauty and elegance to the filly. She was larger than Xanadu; in fact most of his offspring grew to be larger than he was. I learned to tell prospective breeders that whether they wanted it or not, the colt or filly would more than likely be larger than Xanadu. Size is a funny thing in horses. Some people really want little horses—usually when I don’t have any small ones for sale. Most folks, however, want big and the bigger the better, even (or maybe especially) if they are small in stature themselves. Maybe this is another case of opposites attracting!

Stallions play a big part in a breeding program—but I was to later learn the hard way that the mares have the tougher part.