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Chinny is pictured here at one week old, with his first foster mum, who was an absolute cow. She would tramp him with a forefoot as she couldn't get him with her hindlegs (she was hobbled and tied up). She also tried to crush him against the walls of the barn. We had to sit with her 24/7, and every time the wee fellow got up to suckle, we had to hold her head. After a week, she would allow him to jump on her head, kick her, run headlong into her, but he was still not allowed to suckle. The little sod used to listen for me coming back from checking the other mare (who was close to foaling and refused to come near the barn where her sister had died, so had chosen a meadow two fields away to wait out her 'confinement'), then jump to his feet and approach the foster mare, who also hearing me approach, would let him suckle. Eventually, I let them loose in a large field, of which I could see every corner from an overlooking hill. The field I was watching from was well screened with trees, and the foster mare never spotted me. It soon became clear that the foal was going to be left to his own devices in the field. He slept, played, rolled, slept again, all the time shadowing the foster mare, but not daring to approach. After three hours, I caught up the mare to allow him to suckle, then went home to phone the agency for a replacement. The new foster mare arrived the next morning. The black mare was led out, the new mare led in. The foal jumped over us all to follow the black mare, but came back in when the new mare whickered for him. He went straight for her udder, and the pair never looked back. Poor Chinny has had a heck of an introduction to life. He had to have three enemas in the first few days before he could pass his meconium. He then developed a kidney infection. Then with Foster Mum #2, he began to itch - mange! God bless the EU, whose ridiculously tight drug licensing laws make it uneconomical for drug companies to manufacture many low-run products such as those for horses. All three commonly used treatments for mange are now off the market, and we had to resort to Benzyl Benzoate, which burnt the foals' delicate skin, and stung them so badly that they were in danger of injuring themselves trying to get away from the stinging. Eventually, I got the hang of diluting the stuff to a level which left it still effective but not so harsh on the foals' skin. I mixed in a little Tea Tree Oil, and used a plant mister to rub the solution into the foals' coats every day. It took all summer to get rid of it, and Babbling is left with a lump on her hind tendon, from where she shredded her back legs trying to scratch. As if poor Chinny hadn't enough to contend with, he developed an umbilical hernia. After a few weeks' monitoring, my vet decided it was a little wide to leave to close naturally, and so poor Chinny put in three weeks with a rubber ring gradually tightening around the protrusion. I kept an ointment with fly repellent on the area, and we had no infections or other problems - it just dropped off. About three weeks after the second foster mare took up duties, she started to lose her milk. We managed to boost her supply by adding powdered foal replacement milk to her stud ration. It turns out that the mare's own foal was already three months old when she came to us, and so it was no surprise when she started to wean Chinny off in September. The foster mare produced a skewbald colt on a dreadful February night, and left with him two weeks later. By then the weaning process was complete - she had told Chinny very clearly that he was not to consider her his mother any more, and as she was loaded into the horsebox to go to her next home, he wandered off to see where the other horses had got to. Chinny's troubles are not all over yet. He has only produced on testicle, and a decision must be taken whether to opt for major surgery to geld him completely, or to leave him as a rig. I would love to hear your opinion on this. Despite his troubles, Chinny is a supremely confident and happy individual. He does, however, tend to put too much faith in the powers of his granny Carol, which he believes extend to protecting him from marauding mares on the revenge for his transgressions at the manger. He is a super calm foal, who is happy to stand beside me and watch passing parades complete with drums. When we resurfaced the yard, he stuck his head over the gate to taste the gravel as it tipped from a rather large and loud lorry. He has seen it all and has nothing left to fear, and he knows humans are on his side. He could buy and sell you and probably tell you the time as well - when the horses finish their hard feed, it's always Chinny who comes to find me and tell me it's time for the carrots! |
