In the quiet, pre-dawn hours of Good Friday, our first foal was born. A little filly, arriving on cold, wet, muddy ground. Her mama, Wilk.Something Regal, stood over her. The filly was freezing. I rushed in, picked her up, and moved her to the pen filled with warm straw. Regal panicked and, in the confusion, stepped on her baby without knowing it. Guiding Regal to her, she found her and I went to get Mike.
In our uncertainity of knowing what to do, we reached out to Mariah for some newborn advice- what we could—towel, heat lamp, gentle care. But our troubles had just begun. Something was terrible wrong with her long legs.
No vets were available for house calls, (being Easter weekend) we turned to the horse expert, Lorri. Our little foal was weak and couldn’t stand. Hours passed before it received the colostrum from Regal it needed. I found an old lamb nipple and bottle. She drank. Step one complete.
But her legs were bent badly, completely the wrong way. The answer seem to be splint them. Mike tried cutting wood and wrapping with ace bandages, but nothing held. We switched to cardboard tubes and had a little luck. She stood twice on her own—but seem confused on how to nurse.
With a lot of patience and assistance she finally had a decent feeding around 4 p.m. and another at 8. We tucked her in for the night. At midnight, things looked good.
At 5 a.m., something told me to check. She was cold again, sprawled out—not curled up. Back under the heat lamp she went. Her splints weren’t holding. When she did suckle, she aspirated. Again and again. At one point, the foal feeling so worked up at needed to eat, while trying to nurse, she passed out from trying so hard. We feared the worst. After a bit, she recovered and was able to nurse.
We knew we had to fix the splints. I thought of using foam pipe insulation. Mike added hard plastic tubing from the air seeder hoses, cut and used some heat to shaped them, and we finally had something that worked. She stood better. And at 2:30 p.m., she nursed—really nursed—without aspirating. It was good to see a full belly.
That evening, Regal wouldn’t let me near her. She wanted Mike. She seemed to say, “I’ve got this.” And she did. The foal was standing on her own—not perfectly, but she was up with her splits. We her assistsed her to nursing and late into the night and left her full-bellied and warm.
By Easter morning, she looked better. Had a great morning feeding, we thought, we are on the way. But then came a setback. At 9 a.m., she was cold, lethargic, wouldn’t eat. Her temperature was just 94°F. We placed her in the calf warmer. She rallied for a bit, ate a little, and we had hope again.
But by 3 p.m., she was struggling to stand and nurse at all. I wanted to bottle-feed her, but Mike felt we should let her nurse. With little success at getting milk into her, the vet was called . He came, gave her an IV, and we saw a flicker of life with some help of IV fluids. the vet said her lungs and heart sounded good. At least we were not dealing with pneumonia. We decided to move her into the garage for the night, where we could keep an eye on the IV.
At 2 a.m., I started another IV, letting it run through the night. But by 7 a.m., (Monday) there was little spark left. We took her to Regal. She nursed for just a few minutes, then couldn’t continue, just had no strength. At 9:30am Regal left her side for the first time when I entered the pen. I knew then—we were losing her. Regal seemed to sense it.
I helped her stand one last time, did some gentle stretches, but there was no fight left. This brave little filly had given it everything she had. For four days, she battled with twisted legs and a weak body. My heart aches. I had dreamed of this moment for almost a year.
Mike gave up so much of his planting time to walk with me through every step. I’m so thankful for him.
Why did this happen on our first try, our first foal, in this new adventure? I don’t know. But I’ll still lift my head and say: God is good. All the time. His ways are not mine, but I trust Him. Thank you, Jesus,