Welcome to the World, Winsome Dream !!
by Emily Chetkowski
A Rare Newfoundland Pony is born on a New Ipswich Farm
Published in the Monadnock Ledger Transcript on Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Published in the Monadnock Ledger Transcript on Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Dear Reader: Please excuse my column's absence last month, but let me explain. The very subject of that column (with help from Mother Nature) caused mayhem in my life, and I was unable to make deadline. This month was almost a repeat of last month, thanks again to my subject and Mother Nature, whose own important deadline superseded mine.
To be safe, I had written this month's column well ahead of time, but overnight it suddenly became obsolete, of course on the day it was due. So here I sit, exhausted, numb from lack of sleep, completely rewriting it.
Technically speaking, I've been working on this column, and living this story since spring of last year, precisely 340 days since a handsome stranger passed through town on his way to live out west, the likes of whom we hadn't seen around these parts before. His name was Macosa's Dream, a rare Newfoundland Pony stallion. Our Newfoundland Pony mare was his heart's desire and it wasn't long before Applewood Highland Heather was expecting.
Expecting--now that's putting it mildly. This union was a very important one, a rare line critically endangered breed stallion bred to a rare line mare, their foal would have a big impact on the breed's battle against extinction, especially in this country. As you can imagine, not only was Heather expecting, but it seemed everyone in our lives or involved with these ponies in any way was too. As Heather's unborn baby grew, so did the anticipation.
By fall, Heather's belly bulge was very obvious, the sight of which fostered healing when Winston, our mini-donkey, tragically died. Her belly reminded us there was much life to look forward to, despite the grief.
Late winter, when Heather would purposely and proudly press her side against me so I could feel her very active baby move, I was moved as well, emotionally. Soon it came time to gather supplies and prepare the birthing stall. Though her due date was mid-April, we were ready a month before since horses can go a month either way of their date.
In March, when the weather turned unusually warm, Heather looked and acted ready to go. It was then I began my nights of sitting quietly in the barn, waiting for baby.
Sitting there with the doors open, surrounded by starlight and silence, I realized how magical nights in the barn could be. With Heather in her stall, her daughters Mandy and Tansy, and I, remained motionless, listening to the night noises and each other's breathing. It was still; it was peaceful; it was mesmerizing.
I made many interesting observations out there, but was most impressed by how one daughter would stand alert and on guard outside her mother's stall, surveying the fields and woods, while the other slept inside next to her but with one eye open.
After a bit, there would be a changing of the guard, as if a schedule was being kept. Occasionally, if I nodded off a bit, I would be awakened by a soft pony nose nuzzling my neck, as if to remind me to stay alert too.
I discovered that ponies dream, in much the same way dogs do, Tansy especially. Sleeping on her side, her legs would move in a dream-driven canter, as she made funny little noises.
Out there, I thought of so much to say in my column, as a prelude to reporting the birth, yet baby wasn't born. Neither was my column. The cold weather returned and all signs of impending birth stopped, just like that.
Still we remained on alert. An attempt at installing a webcam in the stall failed so regular nighttime checks continued and lack of sleep became routine. Daily calls, emails and text messages to and from our continental expectant following continued as well. After a sudden brainstorm, we successfully installed a video baby monitor in her stall and that night I slept in the house with one eye on Heather.
Around 4 a.m. I glanced at the screen. Heather was laying down and her foal was about to enter the world. With the vet on the phone, George and I rushed to the barn. First there was a leg, then another and in between those legs was a little head.
As Heather pushed and the foal's protective sac tore open in the process of leaving it's former home to enter it's new one, the foal opened it's mouth and we saw it take it's very first breath.
Soon the foal was completely free and we dried her off, then helped her crawl towards her mother's head so she could caress her beautiful newborn. It was a filly. This meant a lot, as not only is there a shortage of Newfoundland mares, now I could retire her mother.
In the few short hours that followed we saw her stand for the very first time. Mandy and Tansy entered the barn and stood watching. When the filly spied them, she nickered to her sisters and they nickered back.
Just at that moment, a Phoebe flew into the barn, sat on the rafters facing us above the very spot where Winston had died and loudly sang it's heart out. Outside I heard our stallion, Ammy, neigh and wild turkeys gobbling int the distance. This surreal moment in nature was summed up most beautifully by our donkey Shaggy, who let out a huge cacophonous bray as the Grand Finale.
The barn and world around us was suddenly teeming with life, warmly welcoming Villi Poni Farm's "Winsome Dream".
To be safe, I had written this month's column well ahead of time, but overnight it suddenly became obsolete, of course on the day it was due. So here I sit, exhausted, numb from lack of sleep, completely rewriting it.
Technically speaking, I've been working on this column, and living this story since spring of last year, precisely 340 days since a handsome stranger passed through town on his way to live out west, the likes of whom we hadn't seen around these parts before. His name was Macosa's Dream, a rare Newfoundland Pony stallion. Our Newfoundland Pony mare was his heart's desire and it wasn't long before Applewood Highland Heather was expecting.
Expecting--now that's putting it mildly. This union was a very important one, a rare line critically endangered breed stallion bred to a rare line mare, their foal would have a big impact on the breed's battle against extinction, especially in this country. As you can imagine, not only was Heather expecting, but it seemed everyone in our lives or involved with these ponies in any way was too. As Heather's unborn baby grew, so did the anticipation.
By fall, Heather's belly bulge was very obvious, the sight of which fostered healing when Winston, our mini-donkey, tragically died. Her belly reminded us there was much life to look forward to, despite the grief.
Late winter, when Heather would purposely and proudly press her side against me so I could feel her very active baby move, I was moved as well, emotionally. Soon it came time to gather supplies and prepare the birthing stall. Though her due date was mid-April, we were ready a month before since horses can go a month either way of their date.
In March, when the weather turned unusually warm, Heather looked and acted ready to go. It was then I began my nights of sitting quietly in the barn, waiting for baby.
Sitting there with the doors open, surrounded by starlight and silence, I realized how magical nights in the barn could be. With Heather in her stall, her daughters Mandy and Tansy, and I, remained motionless, listening to the night noises and each other's breathing. It was still; it was peaceful; it was mesmerizing.
I made many interesting observations out there, but was most impressed by how one daughter would stand alert and on guard outside her mother's stall, surveying the fields and woods, while the other slept inside next to her but with one eye open.
After a bit, there would be a changing of the guard, as if a schedule was being kept. Occasionally, if I nodded off a bit, I would be awakened by a soft pony nose nuzzling my neck, as if to remind me to stay alert too.
I discovered that ponies dream, in much the same way dogs do, Tansy especially. Sleeping on her side, her legs would move in a dream-driven canter, as she made funny little noises.
Out there, I thought of so much to say in my column, as a prelude to reporting the birth, yet baby wasn't born. Neither was my column. The cold weather returned and all signs of impending birth stopped, just like that.
Still we remained on alert. An attempt at installing a webcam in the stall failed so regular nighttime checks continued and lack of sleep became routine. Daily calls, emails and text messages to and from our continental expectant following continued as well. After a sudden brainstorm, we successfully installed a video baby monitor in her stall and that night I slept in the house with one eye on Heather.
Around 4 a.m. I glanced at the screen. Heather was laying down and her foal was about to enter the world. With the vet on the phone, George and I rushed to the barn. First there was a leg, then another and in between those legs was a little head.
As Heather pushed and the foal's protective sac tore open in the process of leaving it's former home to enter it's new one, the foal opened it's mouth and we saw it take it's very first breath.
Soon the foal was completely free and we dried her off, then helped her crawl towards her mother's head so she could caress her beautiful newborn. It was a filly. This meant a lot, as not only is there a shortage of Newfoundland mares, now I could retire her mother.
In the few short hours that followed we saw her stand for the very first time. Mandy and Tansy entered the barn and stood watching. When the filly spied them, she nickered to her sisters and they nickered back.
Just at that moment, a Phoebe flew into the barn, sat on the rafters facing us above the very spot where Winston had died and loudly sang it's heart out. Outside I heard our stallion, Ammy, neigh and wild turkeys gobbling int the distance. This surreal moment in nature was summed up most beautifully by our donkey Shaggy, who let out a huge cacophonous bray as the Grand Finale.
The barn and world around us was suddenly teeming with life, warmly welcoming Villi Poni Farm's "Winsome Dream".