CHAPTER 1
And They All Said Good-bye
For every good-bye, God also provides a hello.
—Donna Gable Hatch
This is a story about the tragic death of one of the best horses I have ever had the honor to share ground with. Sadly, I also shared her last hour. It was one of the worst days I have had with horses, but it was also one of the most amazing spiritual experiences I have ever had.
Her registered name was "Buff and Fancy," but we called her Buffy. She was a big-boned girl; she had a pretty sorrel coat and an intelligent, soft eye. I often described her as so light to pressure that you didn't have to do much more than think what you wanted her to do and she would already be doing it. When handling or riding horses, you communicate through cue and release signals. The cue comes from pressure of some kind, and the release is the end of the pressure. If you want to lead a horse, you put slight pressure on the lead rope until the horse gives to the pressure and starts to move forward. As soon as the horse moves in the direction you want, you release the pressure or stop pulling and let the horse walk.
Saying Buffy was light to pressure is actually an understatement. It took very little to get her to comply with what I wanted her to do. It didn't matter what deed we had to accomplish, she would do it willingly. She also had the uncanny ability to sense just how knowledgeable you were when working with her. If she sensed you didn't have much experience, she would take advantage of the situation—not in a way that would hurt someone, but she would develop an uncooperative attitude. I witnessed this in her interaction with others but never with me. I have never experienced such good ground manners in any horse before or since. To top it off, she was a super mom. The little filly foal by her side on this hot late-July day had been born on May 12, 2009, at 1:20 a.m. I know because I shared that hour with her as well.
Almost all of the foals born in my presence were born in the middle of the night, generally between 1:00 and 5:00 a.m. I don't know why this is the rule, but it certainly seems to be. I can only remember one foal that was born during daylight hours. When Buffy gave birth to her little filly, I was spending the night in the barn foaling horses. I wanted to be present for many reasons. The potential of a medical problem was at the top of the list, but imprinting was a close second. My goal has been to imprint a foal when it is born and to be with it from the start if at all possible. I want the foal to smell my presence as soon as the birth sack opens. Then I leave it to bond with his or her mother.
That night, I had a couple of mares that were really close to foaling and, as always, I made it my practice to be there when it happened. Too many things can go wrong during a birth, and you do not want to lose either the mare or the foal. I have lost count of the number of nights I slept fitfully in the barn awaiting nature's magic, but I never tired of doing my part.
Some mares will not have a foal in your presence. They will cross their legs, so to speak, and refuse to start the process. They spend their time looking serenely about in the foaling stall as if it were just another day on the farm. Those horses wait until you go to the house for a cup of coffee and have the foal while you are gone, even if you are absent for only ten minutes. Then there are those like Annie, another of our horses. She would actually wake me up if I had managed to fall asleep. She would stick her head over the stall wall, gently grab my shoulder with her lips, and give me a wake-up shake when it was time. Annie knew she always needed a little help, and she wanted me there.
I had never foaled Buffy before, so I didn't know how she would behave. As it turned out, she was one of those mares that actually wanted me to be present. She didn't have to wake me up because I started seeing the signs around midnight that foaling was imminent. She started pacing, sweat patches started appearing on her chest, and she was shaking her head and backing up against the stall wall. All of these are signs that the show is about to begin. At 1:20 a.m., with a little help from me pulling during contractions, her big but healthy filly was born. After I opened the birth sack and blew a little air toward the foal's face, I left Buffy to do her part. I went back to being an observer of nature at its best.
Sam Owsley of Massachusetts was Buffy's owner. Over the years, we have kept several of Sam's horses, mostly brood mares sent to Double R Stables to have babies. Little did we know that this little filly foaled by Buffy and affectionately called Peanut, would be her last offspring. I have often thanked Sam for sending Buffy here to share time with us. I have also apologized for having to call him with such bad news and for the heavy decision that he had to make without being here. Bad situations often create a bond between those who experience them. This one did just that.
Buffy's foal was the last one to be born at the stables. In addition, the health challenges I had been facing for the year prior to that night made it too taxing for me to keep up with the demands this type of endeavor required of me. My time spending nights in the barn from late January until April of each year was over. I miss the magic of being involved so deeply with nature, but I really do not miss the dusty cold barn.
It was late in the afternoon on a normally hot summer day in Kentucky. Buffy was spending time in the barn lot with her filly. The barn lot is a relatively small area. It's fenced off from the pastures, and animals housed there have access to the back of the barn and the stalls for getting out of the sun or inclement weather as needed. Even though small, the barn lot allows horses staying in it to visit with and touch noses with other horses living in pastures. Buffy never missed a chance to visit and be sociable prior to her foal being born and seemed to get along with all the other horses. The need to be in a herd setting was apparent. Things changed after Peanut was born and she became more protective.
Also located in the barn lot is a structure called a round pen. Round pens are corral-like structures. They resemble farm gates that are used to close off areas. They are...
