I handed her the medical tape.“Tape her tail onto her back so it’s not in the way.”
She didn’t even hesitate.She got right in there, snagging Angel’s swishing tail, gathering it together and taping it to the mare’s back.Sam wasn’t particularly tall, so she had to stand on her tiptoes, but she managed without a fuss.
“I see hooves!”she exclaimed.
“Si,piccola.”
Just then, Danica returned.“Morty will do his best, but in this weather, he’s not sure he’ll be able to get over here.”
Merda.
I was afraid of that.
Nodding, I put a glove on and went behind Angel, wrapping my hand around the foal’s ankles and pulling in a downward motion.It hardly budged.
“Here,” Danica said, entering the stall.She put on the other glove, and together we pulled in the downward arc toward the mare’s hocks.
Not bothering with gloves, Sam joined in, and even though it felt like forever, but was probably no more than a couple of minutes, the three of us managed to successfully pull the foal free.It flopped onto the straw at its mother’s feet—not moving.
“Oh no!”Sam mewled, falling to her knees.Her hands shook as she briefly reached them toward the foal, but then immediately snatched them back, wrapping them around herself in a hug.“No … no, no.This … this isn’t right.This isn’t fair.”She started to rock back and forth on her knees a little.
I knew the signs of an anxiety attack and while I empathized with the child, now was not the time.I couldn’t help herandthe foal.
I glanced at Danica and she seemed just as torn as I was.
“Sam, baby, you need to pull it together.Remember what you said, 'you can’t save them all, but you can try.'We need to let Tom try.If you can’t be here, if it’s too much, step out of the stall.”
That seemed to snap Sam out of her fugue and she glanced up at her mother, her green eyes brimming with tears.But after a second, her gaze turned fierce, she nodded her head once and stood up.
“I want to help.”She used her sleeve to wipe the tears from her eyes, then she and her mother both glanced at me, waiting for instruction.
Right.
“My bag,” I said, jumping back into action.I reached for the foaling bag I had bought years ago.Inside it was a foal resurrection kit that I hoped never to need.I’d watched videos on how to use it, but had never actually practiced.I did the best I could as Danica and Sam covered the little colt in towels and began to rub him vigorously.Grabbing a piece of straw from the floor, I swirled it around each of his plugged nostrils.He appeared utterly lifeless.Normal foals start breathing almost as soon as their chest leaves the mare.He was not.
Checking his gums, I saw that they were still blue.
Ditching my glove, I continued with the resuscitation pump, watching as the faint pulse in his neck got slower and slower.
I barely registered that Angel had sunk down to the straw again in exhaustion until Sam gasped.“There’s blood all over the ground!”
At the same moment, the colt finally took a breath on his own.
“Here,” Danica said, sitting beside me and accepting the foal into her lap, where she continued to rub his body with the towels as his motionless body took noisy, labored breaths.
I went over to check on Angel.
I didn’t think mares were supposed to bleed like that during birth.Something was seriously wrong.
“Is she going to be okay?”Sam asked.“Is that normal?”
I shook my head.“I don’t think so.”
“Well, we have to help her too.What can we do?”
This was beyond my expertise.I was already out of my wheelhouse delivering the foal this way, but a hemorrhaging mare was well beyond my scope.
Angel’s nostrils flared, and she exhaled heavily.
