TheBanyanTree: Mare-watching

[NancyIee at aol.com]

March 7 05

We are still waiting for the birth of our foals.  Little Gold Digger, all of 
30 inches tall, has been giving off impending signals for a month.  The woman 
we got her from said she might have her foal as early as October, but, here we 
are , still waiting.  And Sabrina, 29 inches high and a barrel around is due 
any minute, now.

It's hard to pinpoint a more exact due date with "pasture bred" mares.  The 
owners send the mares out into pasture with the stallion for a three month 
time. Unless one is watching every moment of every day, there is no way to 
determine just when they . .ahem . honeymooned.

At any rate, I go out several times a day to check on them, and get up at all 
hours of the night to rove out with my trusty flashlight to do the same.  I 
have taken to drinking a couple of glasses of water before turning in, so . 
."nature" wakes me during the night and I don't have to set an alarm and wake the 
household.

It's so calm and quiet at three a.m. I hang over the fence and watch the 
mares sleeping. Sometimes they wake and think it's breakfast time, and I have to 
give them a treat.  Then we just stand about, listening to the tropical night, 
the owls, the breathing of horses, the dreaming grunts of the pigs, the tinkle 
of the goat's bell as he peeks out to see what the ruckus is about. Michael 
and Lucy, our cats, are often on patrol, the cops of the barn. No thieving 
little rodent escapes their notice. The cats prowl silent.  I only sense them by 
the tiny hairs on the back of my neck, or a shadow sliding over the hay stack. 
Sometimes, the stillness is broken by one tiny "squik" and nothing more to 
announce the cats' presence. The night air whispering through the pines makes 
more sound.

 If night turns to day as I daydream out there, I might be lucky enough to 
seek the morning's first soaring of the Bald Eagles nesting atg the corner of 
the property, where a clump of pines and Spanish moss create a dense haven. The 
Eagles' nest is a massive cluster of twigs and leaves, built, so I guess, over 
the years of their togetherness. They seem a well-established couple, 
reigning over our pasture and the neighbors', a silent patrol.  Until they are on the 
hunt. Then. all small critters crouch and quiver as the eagles scream, "I see 
dinner, and I'm going to get it."  Or something like that.

Anyway, mare watching at night is a dreamy time. Some of my latest stories 
come from those quiet, easy nights.


NancyLee