March 2008 • VOLUME 31 • © HORSES For LIFE™ Magazine

White Gold Chapter One: The Birthing

The white mare stood in the stall, her face pressed into the dank corner, trying to get her sensitive nostrils and lungs away from the acidic smell. This was no place to give birth with ammonia raising from the ground from her own urine. Night after night, they brought her in this small box, while she appreciated the golden oats that they brought her, she so wished she didn’t have to stand with all this weight pulling down on her painful spine. Oh, what she wouldn’t do to be able to move, to keep walking to relieve the pain, to relieve her poor back. By morning she knew her ankles would swell, blood pumping down, but without walking and her pumping of her hooves to help push the blood up, they pooled in her lower legs. With no muscles below her knees, only strong and hard ligaments, nothing but her hard hooves with little flexibility themselves were capable of pushing the blood back up.

She was scared to lay down: once when she was a young mare still dappled and grey, she had laid down and went to roll and she got trapped against the wall with her legs dangling upwards helplessly in the warm air. Air that soon she couldn’t take into her lungs. She remembered the panic, the inability to breathe from lungs compressed underneath their own weight, the blackness that started to creep ominously into the periphery of her vision. Then one rider had come running in, screaming for help, screams that she had felt in her heart but couldn’t get out. They had grabbed her by her own tail and pulled her away from the wall, her tail had hurt for days and days afterwards but it was a pain that she was happy to have. They had saved her that night, these incredible and funny humans. They were often confused, their souls struggling, but there was no doubt there was a great white light in each and every one of them. She didn’t understand how they could be so much like her and her friends but still hurting so badly. Except for the young ones, they often shone the brightest, but somehow when they grew they started to doubt themselves and there was a darkening. All she knew was that she cared for these crazy people so different from her own, she just wished they could hear her. But she was patient, living in the moment, somehow she felt compelled in a way that she didn’t understand to keep trying to reach out to them.

Oh. What was that? Ah. There it was again. She breathed shallowly against the strong pains originating from her abdomen. The pain was just getting stronger but she felt compelled to keep silent, to hide her pain from those that passed by her door. A door that led out to fresh air that she could have breathed deep into her lungs. Oh, it was getting bad. She circled in her stall, looking for a spot that didn't exist - green, lush, with room to spread out without worrying about walls, a spot that didn’t smell quite as bad. What she wouldn’t do for a spot of clean grass to carpet her body and the body of the little one that was soon to come out.

She would be glad to get rid of this one, to get it out. Highly active, he had pushed and prodded and let her know he was eager to get out. Ouch, that one hurt. Silent, she must stay silent. Sweat broke out on her body, from the incredible effort that her body was going through, but her silence for tens of thousands of years had been the only defence for a helpless mare going through birth. Any sounds would instantly attract those that she now could not run away from, no way to stop the process that was happening to her body. Her instinct to stay quiet helped in one way, to keep her species continuing for thousands of years, but that silence also meant that these troubled and blind humans could not seem to see when the pain was the worst. Her instinct told her to be alone, she didn’t want their presence right now, so their blindness worked in her favour. She circled again, too much in pain to lie down but knowing she could not refuse to in a very short while. The drive to lie down and push was overwhelming. Oh, the time had come, but she still didn’t lie down. Without warning small tiny soft white hooves broke through into the air and still she refused to lie down.

The straw was clean and plentiful but didn’t have the sweet aroma of crisp green grass. There was no way she could lie down in that. Could they not smell it? She could sense that their intentions were so pure, so full of kindness. You could literally feel the warmth emanating from their hearts. They obviously thought they were doing a kindness. Not being able to understand their thoughts and only their intentions she couldn’t possibly understand why they emanated such kind warmth as they led her in, but it was why she came along so peacefully each and every time. How could one not respond to the warm waves of pride and pleasure. Like they had done some wonderful thing. Ohhh! No. This wasn’t right. The overwhelming urge to push came upon her, but she should have been lying down already! This one was coming on fast. With a final heave the foal slid out right onto his head! The placenta sack creating a creamy grey film making the foal whose soft hooves already had torn through, appeared as if he was part of a black and white film. The white mare, the grey and strangely white placenta and the grey-bodied yet-to-be-revealed baby.

The concerned mare began to turn, troubled by the unusual birth. Truly she had not meant to drop the little one on his head. She sighed. Somehow she had a feeling this was going to be a foretaste of things to come in this young foal's life. Without looking, she knew that this one was going to be a colt. No filly would have been so busy inside, never resting, always keeping her awake, the pressure and blows coming from the inside-out impossible for her to evade.

The young colt lay for a moment still, legs sprawled in so many directions he looked like a tarantula on roller skates that had an abrupt landing, each one of the spider's legs going into another direction. The white mare waited breathlessly, too concerned to move closer to check out for herself if the little one was okay. But true to form, even a fall on the head could only keep him quiet and still for only a moment. He shook his head quite violently as his unco-ordinated front legs splayed out in a wide V. Which at least made it look as if he had four legs instead of eight. She sighed with relief although she truly never thought for a moment that a mere fall on his head was going to keep this one down for long. And she was right. Quickly he struggled, slipping on the amniotic fluid trying to find purchase for his tiny smooth hooves.

The colt knew from memories that were sensed rather than remembered that he needed to struggle, needed to find purchase. Something terrible could happen if he didn’t quickly get up. His half memories prodded him. Had it always been this difficult to find grip on an earth that seemed to slide with fluid? Being in a stall there was no warm earth, to help drink in the liquid from the birth, it rested on top of the stall floor, liquid that would not allow the young colt to find purchase. Determined, he continued to struggle and in his struggles he unknowingly worked his way to a drier spot in the stall.

The white mare carefully lowered her muzzle and started to lick the foal, her large warm tongue helping both to clean and raise circulation in his coat. Bringing warmth to the damp body. His coat coal black now that he was out of the amniotic sac, gathered to attention by the first moments of caring that were to come into his life. The gentle caress of his mother’s tongue letting him know that he was not alone, that there was another with him. Being alone is terrifying for any being, but for the horse it means the black silence of death. What a beautiful way to come into the world, caressed, cared for, and already loved. If only every moment of his life could be as perfect as this moment.

But this little one was impatient and he couldn’t wait and he struggled again to rise up as the mare contentedly and gently continued to lick him clean. Tiny thin sticks that were his forelegs held up the tiny narrow chest, as his hind quarters still dragged down, his hind legs crossed not yet knowing which direction to go in. Enough to try to co-ordinate and brace these incredibly long spider legs in the front, let alone try to do the back ones at the same time.

Braced on the front end, not willing to let go what he had gained, he heaved, pulling himself up with neck and head as the hindlegs scrambled for straightness. Up he tottered, legs spread, head flopped forward as he struggled to find that first magic moment of balance. Balance his life force.

The white mare moved closer, proud of her baby's efforts. Ouch, she thought as he latched on her full and bloated teat, for that first drink of colostrum - that special first drink where he got her antibodies, protection from disease.

Quietly she stood, intent on not unbalancing the young baby who already stood firm as he raised his nostrils and pushed into her teat, hungry for more of the life-giving nourishment. A special bond continued to grow between mare and foal in those moments. A bond of caring and trust, he knew he was cared for, that he could trust this special being to guide him in this new and curious world.

Peace and tranquility and contentment filled both at that moment. The silence the perfect counterpoint to allow them time to find those special feelings.

A peace that was shattered in the next moment.

Join us next month with Chapter Two of White Gold