I was spending hours in the barn awaiting the event. Despite a decade plus around horses, I had yet to witness a foaling. Mares are famously finicky about where and when they foal. And unlike human females, the equine mother has considerable control over the timing. The foal chooses the day of its birth, the saying goes, but the mare chooses the time.
About 11 pm, I decided to take a break. Queenie wasn’t acting unusual, so I went into the house to brew a cup of coffee and to update Mike who was going to bed. When I returned, I heard Queenie emitting soft guttural sounds from the outside paddock that adjoined the foaling stall. Had I left the door open or had Queenie let herself out? I was too excited to think. Through the door, I could see the gray mare, looking ghostly against the dark night and bending her neck over something in a corner.
Wedged in a corner where the paddock fence adjoined the barn was a heap of thrashing legs and wet red horsehair. The normal struggle of a newborn foal to stand was complicated by the confined space where Queenie had given birth. I wrapped my arms around the foal and tried to remove it from the corner. It was greasy with amniotic fluid. At roughly 80 pounds, slippery and struggling, the foal was more than I could manage.
I rushed to the house and woke Mike who flew with me to the barn. Between the two of us, we extracted the foal from the corner, hauled it into the lighted stall, laid it on the deep bedding of straw, and watched the marvelous bonding of mare and foal take place. Queenie’s delight with her baby brought tears to my eyes. It was wondrous to see how instinct overtook Queenie and infused her with maternal knowledge.
~ From Chapter 2: Justice for Speedy
What happens next is a heart-warming tale turned horrific.
I just finished reading this book, suggested to me by my horse shoer. What began as a sweet horse story quickly turned into a shocking account of what happened to one horse — and what has clearly happened to many others over the years. If you’re a horse lover … or simply seeking a story to get fired up about, I suggest you grab a copy of Justice for Speedy.
As for its author, Judy Berkley, I don’t know how she controlled her fury and frustration long enough to sit and tell the tale. Lucky for us she found a way to channel her overwhelming dismay into this tale of woe. I hope you’ll read it … and pass it on.
