The Time

The we all know we'll come to at some point is here for one of my herd - a gentle but strong mare named Allura. She'd be 27 on April 1, but she won't make it. You see, she have a mouth that has lost so many teeth that she cannot enjoy her food anymore, her weight is dropping, and now I've found a good sized tumor on her neck.

Since I had a melanoma removed from her ear several years ago (that's a very unusual site), I knew that it was probably the malignant variety. Horses' melanomas are seldom malignant - a fact that has fascinated researchers for years, but they can turn into that. The one in her ear was oozing black sear which, normally, they don't. They're usually just hard little knots on the tail, genitalia, and belly exposed skin of grey horses. This one on her neck is much bigger, it's under the hair, and it seems rooted in the muscle.

I first saw Allura when she was a two year old and a blue roan filly at a friend's pasture. She was lovely-undeniably the best in the pasture. Never thought once of actually owning her. Thirteen years later, I purchased her in foal and she was snow white. She has never been trained for anything - she's just been a broodmare. I'm the only one who has ever really handled her. She had 6 gorgeous foals for me - I still have three and two grandbabies.

Now it is time to do what's right for her. I need to send my beautiful mare on to God's pastures to run free, graze as much as she wants, and have shady trees to rest under. She knows. She's good with it. I'll miss her.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene.....

My tarpan/arabian cross stallion had a "crush" on the grade TWH mare from the day he hit the ground. Thing is-she had one for him, too. She's 4 years older.

So, when in 2010, the elderly (and I do mean elderly-Brassy was close to 34) indicated that she wasn't going to make it much longer, I had to do something about keeping Buddy happy. He just doesn't do the solitary thing at all. Brassy had been safe-she did cycle sometimes, was barren because of her being a "windsucker" and therefore chronically infected, and she was difficult to breed (well, more like hellish). She'd taught Buddy to bring the best wine, the roses, the diamonds, the Rolls limo, the furs, and even then, the old broad would just think about it. She did, however, keep his studly butt in line. On the occasions when the mares did get out and wander over to try to talk, Brassy would park his fanny out in the middle of the pasture and dare him not to stay there. She was a wonder.

All of which made the decision to put the old broad down very hard. But, leading up to that, Dolly (the TWH) had asked, very pointedly at that, if she could take over. I think the only one who wasn't happy about the choice was my husband-because Dolly is still young enough to be fertile.

She did settle that summer-and  I could tell she was bothered by being pregnant for the first time. Dolly's own dam died when she was 3 months old, and I have no doubt that she remembers that. She worried the entire time. Then in June, I had to go out of town on business. I told my husband to watch her as I thought she was close to foaling. He stayed in the house because it was hot-she foaled out-and lost the baby. In addition, she tore pretty badly. I grabbed her and put her in the yard to heal-much to Buddy's consternation.

I put Brassy back out with him, assuming that he would be comfortable with that arrangement. I did not realize that Buddy and Dolly are the rare pair-they are BONDED.  Any other combination is not only not going to work, there is danger in even attempting it. Long story short-Buddy raped Brassy. By that I mean, he went after her so hard and so brutally that he opened a hole BESIDE her vulva about 3 inches in diameter and about 6 inches deep. She was bleeding and in shock when I found her.

Brassy cannot go back out with him and Dolly shouldn't go back out with him (she still isn't quite healed). Buddy is getting madder and madder. I'm forced into putting Dolly back out with him. Peace is at least restored-and, thank God, she doesn't go into heat right away. Brassy, bless her heart, stays on the far side of the yard.

Then that next spring Brassy says that she's done, I get Nikolai back from my friend's farm, and Dolly foals out again-this time, a strapping big filly. Welcome, Jolene. Dolly won't let the foal sleep-every time the baby goes down, Dolly gets her right back up. I finally get out the essential oils and get Dolly to relax-she seems to be afraid that if the baby lies down, she'll die. Poor thing is so tired, she's staggering. After a good nap, both are back on track, and daddy Buddy is obviously proud.

Jolene has turned out to be a "daddy's girl"-she looks like him, acts like him, and would rather stay with him. He's proven to be a good herd sire, too. He's very good with her. But today was the next step for her-she was moved out of the parental pasture and introduced to the  rest of the herd. Uncle Zhak is in charge now. She's not sure about this. Buddy, on the other hand, is sure-Zhak needs killing-or, at the very least, a severe beating.

Zhak is delighted. He loves babies of all species. He has already started her education-shooing her away from danger, herding her up, guiding her to the hay piles. Jolene obviously wants to know who died and left this guy in charge. The baby's growing up.....