September Gold
by Carla McPherson, Hawk Haven, Covelo, California
reprinted with permission from Dec/Jan 2006 issue of Haflinger Horse

For horse breeders who will admit – whether proudly or sheepishly– to being addicted to that sense of magic surrounding the birth of a baby horse, it is inevitable that the awesome and tender event will provide some powerful memories. Whether the special event takes place in a luxurious bed of cozy straw or out under the stars on suncleansed pasture grass, I’ve always felt privileged to witness a foaling, especially when the mare is trusting enough of her human family to let us in on her secretive signs of impending birth.

Northern California’s climate and local conditions of pasture dictate that our mares ideally foal in early summer, after the hay is off the fields and safely in the barn for the following winter. A later foal can have a tougher time with the heat of our typical inland valley summers, but what about a mare foaling during my personal favorite time of year, autumn? Eighteen year old Genie, by Sterling-Silver (Sturmer) x Goldstar (Norden), lives with her sister broodmares and a young stallion who has been receiving a thorough education in the art of living peaceably with a group of wise Haflinger mares. While this experience with natural herd dynamics has proven very satisfactory for us in many ways. Genie’s late conception would have us welcoming her foal at a time that although unusual and not ideal, still seemed preferable to a wet or snowy birthtime typical and desirable for many foals in breeding industries such as racing.

The gold of California’s golden hills can be at its most beautiful during the softening light of fall. In September, our band of little golden horses, including two foals, browsed their days and nights throughout their pasture, which can be surveyed from both the kitchen and bedroom; we could easily keep tabs on Genie trundling along looking perpetually imminent. She very considerately racheted up our alertness one afternoon by abruptly waxing up, and she soon had her tail tidied in a nice, pink vetwrap. As a matter of principal, hoping for a normal, healthy foal is the obvious and mature attitude. With a gender ratio at this point of fifteen colts to five fillies, I hope to be forgiven for occasionally indulging in the superstitious application of pink tail wraps. The two foals were mesmerized by the apparition attached to Genie and followed her, noses-to-tail, around the field.

At sunset, a glance out the window revealed the little herd no longer drifting and grazing, but clustered in a group; how lucky can we be, practically an invitation to the party? On my way out of the house, I grabbed a towel from the guest bathroom (the top one happened to be pink, isn’t that sweet?) and husband Sandy went to fetch the Nolvasan for treating the umbilical stump.

In the middle of our golden pasture, the golden horses surrounded Genie and her foal in a very gentle fold. In the center, the newly minted baby rested awhile as Genie calmly licked it and I assisted with the towel to dry the lush, pale gold pelt. Genie’s placenta had already arrived as well, sparing us one of the few potential drawbacks of a pasture foaling: the needle-in-a-haystack search in a ten-acre pasture for a missing placenta.

As the light was fading, we turned the foal slightly to check the umbilicus and saw tiny nipples announcing the arrival of a filly. Amazingly, the crescent moon – which had been rising as the sun had been setting – was now illuminating an unusual crescent marking on the filly’s exquisite face. The nocturnal creatures which make their homes here began their nightly rounds: the resident barn owl family wafted silently throughout the pasture in search of dinner, while the local coyotes yipped their way down the adjacent county road. The other horses slowly drifted away, and we withdrew to witness the unfolding of this new life. The filly’s young sire stood nearby in the moonlight, and I leaned on his back and scratched his withers while we watched his daughter take her first steps.

Genie and 12-hour-old Goleta Hawkhaven