He grunts and I interpret it as a begrudging yes.
“And doesn’t your oldest grandson call you at least once a week even though he’s in the Air Force and stationed in a different state?”
Joel narrows his eyes at me, but his lips twitch. “What’s your point?”
“Nothing at all,” I reply, bumping his shoulder again.
CHAPTER 18
Ellyn
“Ellyn, Ellyn!” Joel’s excited whisper draws me out of my sleep.
I blink my eyes open, realizing that I’ve fallen asleep against his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
I glance around the barn, attempting to reorient myself.
“It’s happening,” Joel says, his voice low but full of emotion.
He secures the blanket around me before rising to his feet. “Ol’ Girl’s about to deliver her foal.”
That’s when it all comes back to me. I must’ve fallen asleep as Joel and I talked and watched and waited for Ol’ Girl to deliver. It likely wasn’t more than an hour or so that I was asleep.
Excitement overcomes me as I rip the blanket away from my body.
“Can I approach?” I ask Joel.
He holds out his hand for me, and I go to him, approaching the stall where Ol’ Girl’s now lying on the blanket of hay that lines the wooden floor.
“I’ve texted Randy to come out to help. He lives on the ranch, so he’s not too far out. It’ll be messy so you can’t go in, but from this distance you’re safe,” he tells me, eyeing my dress.
I nod in agreement, then look over at the mare who’s obviously in the latter stages of this process. Her swollen belly draws my attention, and I try to visualize the life inside.
“How long are horses pregnant?” I ask.
“About eleven months,” he answers in a low voice.
I ask a few more questions, but stop when I see the first signs of what looks a lot like a placenta poking through the horse’s canal.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, covering my mouth to keep my voice moderated.
By this time, Randy has returned and is ready to assist. He enters the stall, taking tentative steps toward the mare to spread out the hay that’s become bunched up, under Joel’s direction.
I move back and watch Joel as he gives Randy a few directions and also focuses his attention on Ol’ Girl. My eyes widen in surprise when Ol’ Girl actually rises to her feet again. By this time, one foot and a part of the foal’s nose protrude out.
Joel moves to the stall’s door to comfort Ol’ Girl, stroking his hand down the length of her nose and murmuring to her that she’s doing a great job.
“You’ve got this, girl,” he tells her.
About twenty minutes later, Randy’s inside of the stall, catching the foal that Ol’ Girl pushes out.
I watch as Joel checks over the foal from a distance and gives Randy more instructions, though neither one of them touch the new horse or its mother.
“We want them to do this as natural as possible,” Joel tells me when I ask why they’re not intervening.
This is my first time attending the birth of anything besides my own children and that of my grandchildren. I’ve never witnessed an animal giving birth.
“She should be on her feet within the hour,” he says of the foal they’ve determined is a girl. “She should feed within two hours, and the afterbirth passed within three,” he explains.
