Notes from Maine - 2021/12/12
Ten days ago, my horses had their first baby together. Earl has lived here since he was four months old, so I can be certain that he is a first-time father. Maybelle is a bit of a mystery. She came here a year ago and I don’t know much about the first part of her life. The vet estimated that she is about 18, but that’s just a guess based on her teeth. She’s a wonderful mother—so careful and attentive. Several people have pointed to that to suggest that she must have had foals previously. Of course, some of those same people told me that she was probably too old to get pregnant in the first place. The wisdom of the crowd is questionable at best.
Regardless of predictions about her fertility, I’m not going to give the two the opportunity to produce another surprise. It rained all day yesterday, so everyone was in the barn. There was lots of conversation between the stalls. I couldn’t understand it, but I definitely caught the drift of the communication.
It’s amazing how fast the little foal is growing. I haven’t started calling her by a name yet. I think I would like to understand more about her personality before I decide what would fit. So far, I’ve learned that she’s curious, friendly, and full of energy. Each time I go out, she gets a look at me and runs away. It’s like she has already forgotten me. Then, carefully, she approaches. Within a couple of seconds, she remembers that I’m the person who will scratch under her chin and down her back. She loves that. She also likes to run, buck, and kick. Outside, she will wander a couple dozen paces before her mother calls her back. Then, she pushes the boundaries in the other direction. Just recently, she has decided that it’s fun to eat hay, although she quickly goes back to nursing.
This is such a fun new experience. I suppose I should have done this twenty years ago, but it’s kinda fun that I saved this experience for this part of my life. A lot of people have congratulated me in this way: “You’re a grandfather now!”
I’d like to set the record straight—I’m not actually related to any of these horses. One might argue that I’m Earl’s adoptive father, since he has lived here since he was four months old, but then what does that make Maybelle? Surely she can’t be my adoptive daughter. What kind of father/grandfather would that make me? This is getting gross to even contemplate. It’s bad enough that Earl is only four and (although he has to duck to get through an 8 foot doorway) he is still growing. Who lets a four year old become a father?
I’ll post some pictures below.
