“No house? What do you mean?”
More dinging on his end, and the sound of a happy shriek. “Troy, are you sitting in a casino?”
“It’s our thirtieth anniversary, Mary. I took Charlene to Gulfport to celebrate.”
My luck couldn’t get much worse. The vet was down in Mississippi, way out of pocket. Probably drunk. The drinks are free in those Gulfport casinos.
Overheard a shrill voice on his end of the call. “Troy! This is the one day of the year that your wife comes first. I swear, if you don’t hang up, I’m filing for divorce.”
Despite his wife’s threats, Troy hadn’t hung up on me yet.
He said, “If the foal won’t come on its own, you can help. You said one foot is out?”
Nellie was squatting behind Tornado. She heard the vet’s question. She gave me a thumbs-up.
“One hoof,” I said.
“Reach in there and see if you can grab the other one.”
In any other circumstance, I’d have been down in the straw with Tornado, doing it all myself. But the injury from the explosion inhibited my ability to move. I’d barely managed to sit in a chair all day.
Nellie followed Troy’s instructions. “I’ve got it,” she said, her voice triumphant. She looked up at me, smiling. Then her face fell. “Oh, my God.”
I watched my mare seize with a powerful contraction. Nellie cried out, and I stuffed the phone in my pocket.
“Oh, Lord, Nellie. You gonna be okay?”
If someone’s arm was going to be broken during the delivery of the foal, it should be mine.
Nellie’s eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth open with a silent scream of agony. Then, slowly, gradually, her face cleared, eyes opened. Tornado’s contraction passed.
Nellie pulled her arm out. She wiped the bloody fluid from her skin and gingerly felt along the forearm, assessing the injury.
“Is it broken?”
“No. Gonna be sore as hell though.” She heaved a weary sigh. “Mary, I’m never doing that again.”
I couldn’t ask her to repeat it. But maybe Nellie’s assistance had done the trick.
We watched as Tornado strained with another contraction, and the foal started to appear. The hooves first, both front feet, soles down. When the nose appeared, my heart started pounding with a mix of joy and anticipation.
My mare kept on straining, moving that foal through the birth canal. Once the head and shoulders were out, Tornado stopped to rest.
We were watching, waiting for nature to do its job, bring the foal the rest of the way. Tornado was taking too much time.
“I got to make sure the airway’s not blocked,” I said.
Nellie groaned. “You want me to blow?”
“I’ll do it. Help me get down on my knees, Nellie.”
It hurt, but with my sister’s assistance, I got down on the floor of the stall. Covered one of the foal’s nostrils with my hand, placed my mouth on the other and blew.
Not a pleasant task; the foal’s head was sticky with blood. But it was effective. Once my air passed into the foal, it breathed on its own.
Just a few strong pushes after that, and the foal was born.
My chest tightened with emotion as Tornado sniffed the foal. Started to nuzzle it and lick it.
