My half-Arabian mare, Ahi Jada, came into Texas in foal to H. A. Bask, a purebred delicious bay own son of the famous *Bask, foundation sire of park Arabians. A pretty half Arab, whose mother got out one night, A.J. was the result of an unwitnessed breeding, hence relegated to the other world of less than purebreds, but my soul mate, nonetheless.
A.J. greeted me in labor as I got off the plane from a trip back to California, just what I needed after a long flight. I was ready, though, because I had spent more than a dozen all-nighters with my friend, Kathy Hines, the quintessential mare midwife, and she taught me well. A mare starts dripping early in the day, then, heavier and heavier until just after nightfall, when she starts pacing and tossing her head. The mare curls up like a dog twice, never once, never thrice, but twice. When she rises and goes down again, she whales over on her side, stretches and bears down, and voila! a foal. Of all the attendings I saw, it never varied.
So, when A.J. curled up for the third time, I knew she was in trouble. I was on the phone to the vet when she went down again. As I walked the quarter-mile or so to the gate to meet the vet, A.J. had glued her nose to my back and wouldn’t let go. She stopped once, dropped on the hill, thrashed, leapt up and ran up to my back again, where she planted her face until we could get back to the safety of the barn, vet in tow.
The report wasn’t good: the foal was big and in full breach. The vet said he felt the foal moving, but no guarantees that he could save it. With A.J. standing, the vet worked for more than hour but managed to bring the foal in tact. He was a large bay colt, and he was dead.
By all rights, we should have lost A.J. that night, too. Had I not known she was in trouble right away, had the vet not come so fast, had A.J. not worked with the vet, pushing with each of his pulls, we would have buried them both. The stars were lined up for A.J. that night.
My girl and I mourned and commiserated in the light of the next day. The products of the birth were gone, a carrot and apple bouquet were clearly appreciated, but not enough to share with buds Larque, Emerald, Fantasque and Maggie, though they were there for support. The vet and I assumed she had suffered too much damage to have more children, but she conceived the next year. I was just grateful we were able to save that wonderful light of my life. She has been gone for along time, but I still cherish her picture hanging in the garage next to the back door. My horsey days are gone, too, but Aah - those are treasured days from the book
Tags: arabian mare, breach foal, colt, foal, half-arabian, horse pregnancy, vet, veterinarian
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