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Intro to Foaling 101

This article was submitted by Nancy Landis

The night Mama foaled, was a memory I will always, always cherish. I had never attended a horse birth, and the typical unusual circumstances that seem to keep my life in a state of consistent chaos, had left me in charge of two very sweet, very well meaning, but very pregnant broodmares. Being a first time "mom", I was trying very hard to deny that I was more than a little nervous. The best cure for that was engaging in an information overload…I read everything I could find on foaling, and watched every foaling video ever taped. My vet, who has a great sense of patience and humor, was well versed at assuring me things would very likely go fine. Fortunately, the first mare due, "Mama", had had nine foals previous to this one. I was pretty certain she would be a good mare to break me into this foaling thing without too much of a hitch. Her pasture mate, Annie, was more of a concern, since this was to be her first.

The mares were due a month apart, but enter in those chaos-loving glitches my life seems to attract with nary a thought for me. Of course, the year I get into foaling, it was one of those years. My vet assured me it was a mare-thing to, without meetings or email, decide by some devious psychic method that they will all withhold the foal crop for a few weeks. Every mare in the area was delivering quite late.

Mama went three weeks overdue without batting an eye about it, or even telling me her plans. Of course, the owner cannot count on things hanging in there for overtime, so those three weeks were spent anxiously gazing at udders, prayerfully wrapping tails, optimistically fluffing fresh straw, and laying awake at night deciphering each peaceful horsey breath as magnified and distorted by the barn baby monitor. At some point along the way, you begin to assume that the mare will never actually foal. You have observed the udder so often, that it is more familiar to you that the mare's face. Your children recite the list of signs that imply impending parturition for share and tell at school. Your husband finds it more unusual than usual to roll over and find you there beside him. The only one who does not seem involved, is the mare herself. Mama was very patient with me, I have grown to love her as my own, but I'm sure she enjoyed those three weeks at some deep diabolical level that only a broodmare can attain.

Finally the day arrived, though it wasn't apparent to me until almost the last legal calendar minute. Throughout this initial broodmare experience, I had engaged the help of my friend Ellen, who had attended several births in years past, and was willing to help me midwife the mares. Monday at morning feed, I noticed wax on Mama's udder, the last sign I'd been waiting for that indicated she (could) go that evening.

Ellen came over to ride (our newly appreciated geldings) with me, and after inspecting things heartily disagreed that Mama looked ready. She said Mama did not look uncomfortable enough, pointed out that the wax was extremely minimal (the previous owner had assured me I would be making candles), and we both could see that the foal was still transverse. She made a strong point in telling me that she did not feel that it would be tonight. I don't know why I listen to other people sometimes, but I do, and my whole day was downhill from there...I was at an end, and Mama was going on without me! I was hurt by Mama's lack of consideration...frustration in a nutshell. After all, I was ready to foal!

By evening, I was starting to agree with Ellen, as much as I hated to admit it. Mama had lost the wax, her udder was not quite as hard, and she still looked very content. I imagine now that she was actually just very pleased with herself for having me fooled. Had my neighbor, Sharon, not called, I would have kept a very low-key vigil all night, and possibly missed things. However, Mama didn't have her way. No privacy for the broodmare! I told Sharon how frustrated I was, and she offered to bring her foal predictor kit over and run a test on Mama's milk. The test would tell us how many six-hour batches there would be between now and ground zero. It gives percentage chances (0-90%) of foaling from 6 to 24 hours. I couldn't get any milk, but Sharon managed to. We dipped a paper test strip, and all the indicators turned bright pink before we pulled it out of the milk! (It's supposed to take a minute for your results!) All pink indicators meant we had a 90% chance of a foal within 6 hours. Looking at Mama, I could hardly believe it. She looked so relaxed! What a schemer!

I have never told Ellen about the milk test. Instead, I swore Sharon to secrecy and called Ellen up to tell her "I just have a feeling tonight will be the night." (I'm afraid I was a little obnoxious in my certainty.) She asked me if the udder was still hard or waxed. I said no. She asked if Mama looked any more distressed. I said no. She asked me why I felt so certain. I said I just knew the mare so well...I couldn't put my finger on it, but I was sure something was going to happen. She said to call her if it did, but that she was going to bed. I smugly told Ellen not to sleep too deeply and hung up.

I was watching all proceedings from my living room window, which has an excellent view of the foaling stall when the barn lights are on. That way I wasn't disturbing the mare, and she could pretend she had a bit of privacy. By 8:30pm, I was ready to eat my words to Ellen. Mama had propped her butt in her usual corner and had not stirred for hours. By 11:00pm, I was sure Sharon's test strips were old or just not accurate, and was dreading how Ellen would razz me tomorrow if Mama didn't foal after all. As annoying as I had been, I knew I deserved every bit of it, and Ellen is not one to hold back at such an opportunity.

Finally at 11:30, Mama started wandering around the stall. Very casually at first, but soon she started itching her butt on the tops of the half doors and looking outside as if she would much prefer to be in the pasture for this. I called Ellen at 11:40. She arrived ten minutes later. Within two minutes of Ellen's arrival, Mama's water broke. That is the point of no return, so we raced out to the barn to watch up close, and lend a hand if necessary. One foot was already visible when we got there. Mama flopped down and delivered a second foot and a nose. I could see the nose trying to breathe through the sack, and was relieved all was alive and well. Birthing mares sound like they're dying, and half born foals look already dead, so it was nice to know that all was not as bad as it appeared. Mama had some trouble delivering the shoulders. She got up and moved a couple times, and was not making progress with her contractions. Finally, I went in, and when Ellen saw the next contraction start (it was difficult to tell from where I was), I pulled on the foal's fore feet as hard as I could. Everything came flying out at that point, and we all stood back to let Mama and baby meet each other! It was midnight! Had all that happened in only half an hour?

We let Mama resume full control. She was so gentle and patient with her new little filly! "Foxy" (my chestnut filly resulting from a bay/buckskin cross-go figure, it's those chaos factors again) took only 10 minutes learning to stand, but a bit longer figuring out how to nurse. She suckled Mama's elbow, stomach, and stifle. In between misses, she would be hit with joy-de-vivre and race around the stall. She was cantering before she could nurse! Mama all but rolled her eyes at this. Foxy would duck under Mama's tummy and out the other side. Mama eventually blocked her with a hind leg, as if to say, "that's it…back to work". Fox would go back to elbow sucking. Finally she landed her lips on the magic spot! What a sweet sound that was to Ellen and I…it meant we could consider the opportunity of sleep! The next morning, the vet came out and gave the filly the once over. She said she looked strong and healthy, and guessed her weight at about 100#s. We let the two out for the first time on Friday, and Mama was especially happy to hit the pasture, show off her new baby to the rest of the herd, and act like a typical thorobred. Foxy took great delight in running off every time Mama would lie down for a good roll, and I think Mama had her hands quite full with that one! As an introduction to the world of horse birthing, I felt the experience went very smoothly. Mama foaled like a pro, and with Ellen there to help, I never felt things got too far out of hand. The milk test was really a fluke; it turns out my neighbor had kept it for a year in her garage, and since it was out of date and poorly stored, the test always ran positive. (We found this out later when trying to second-guess Annie's big day)

Ellen still goes on about my astute powers of observation, so I will have to be very careful that she does not read this article. I have enjoyed her admiration far too much to ever let on that I don't deserve it. She can be a stinker at times, and I feel a need to take my turn! She was an enormous help (how often do you find someone willing to give up several nights of sleep for someone else's horse?) and kept a very level head for the both of us. She spouted useful advice like "Maybe you should open the sac and let the baby get some air?" "Dip the cord yet?" and "Perhaps an enema before she's inside out there?" without making me feel too inept. Friends like those are keepers.

If you have an animal tale that you would like to share, please send it via e-mail to info@abbeyranch.com. Animal Tales from the Heart will become a monthly feature of abbeyranch.com as long as we have material to publish. Abbeyranch reserves the right to edit submissions for grammar, clarity, and to ensure content is appropriate for all audiences. All stories submitted must be your original work.