06/11/2023
Most of you probably know of H**e. This is how I met her...........................................................
Some stories have to wait for me to tell them. For there to be answers, for time to distance me from the emotions.
H**e might not be mine, and most of her story is not mine to tell. The start though? In that we shared.
We have to go back, to when she was just beginning, a little worm wriggling in her mother's belly. Her mum with the tangled mane and wisdom of the world.
It'd been a few months of me visiting. Evenings spent walking as far and fast as possible to try and find the herd. The sun fast setting, leaving me to feel my way home in the dark. At times only knowing that if the ocean was to my left I was going the right way.
I'd assumed that the mare was pregnant, large belly, a foal at foot, and stallions around. Yet to see the ripples of the unborn foal moving about? Confirmation that there was life? Excitement and joy, but also a worry.
Would she live once earth side?
Over the years I've learnt to trust these feelings. Intuition.
So I made it my mission to watch them, undisturbed as much as possible, but to be a witness. Determined to find proof as to why there were so few foals out there.
As the days got longer my visits became more frequent. Each trip around 5 hours long, but something told me they needed me. I wasn't sure what, or how. Just that I should be there. So I was.
Learning their habits, them learning mine. Watching her belly grow, H**e making her unborn self known.
The little c**t now a yearling, his sibling had to be close. Each visit crossing my fingers that she had arrived safe, healthy. Only to find the mare's belly even more swollen, foal not ready yet.
I'd seen them on a Thursday evening. Wind stealing my hat, light reflecting sliver off the ocean. Back to the west or all I could see was light, sparkling off the water, hurting eyes and blinding. Silhouettes of rocks blurry and soft.
I'd been walking for a while, shadows long, when they appeared.
Stepping onto the track I walked, single file. H**e's mum leading the way until she saw me, pausing with a raise of her head. Dewdrop, the young filly passing her. The mare waited, ears pricked, until I moved off the track. Sitting on a boulder. Camera at the ready.
Carefully placing her feet she continued on, the others following her, Dewdrop not getting too far ahead. All of them listening to her in that moment, surely knowing that she carried the next piece of their family.
They gleamed in the sun as the passed me, hooves well worn on hard ground, muscled and strong. Life belonged to them.
Counting them as they went by, six, like the time before, and the time before that. No tiny one hidden amongst them. The white faced stallion at the rear.
Soon, something told me, soon she'd arrive.
So three days later, on an overcast and drizzly Sunday afternoon, I walked out again. This time fate had them only thirty minutes away. And that well may have saved her.
The mare was standing behind some low shrubs, but with the stance of protecting the most valuable thing. Alert, ears twitching at the slightest sound, smallest movement.
I couldn't see a foal, but I knew it was there. Recognised that posture in my own mares from years past.
The stallion and one filly were close by, sleeping on their feet. The three youngsters somewhere out of sight.
We watched for a while, my mum and I. Saw H**e lift her head as her mum nuzzled her. A gorgeous white blaze on her face. The mare checking in with her every few minutes, nose down, but we couldn't see much.
On the private part of the station, we couldn't go closer, not that we wanted to.
Foals sleep, she was clearly alive, the mare doing a great job.
My mum continued on. We were planning to find Mabel, and Snip hadn't been seen in months. But I said I'd watch for a little while longer. A bad feeling washing over me. And I felt the minutes tick by as H**e didn't stand, didn't drink.
The three youngsters came hooning back, galavanting out of the dense bush. Heads tossing and excited whinnies at seeing their family. The stallion trotting out to greet them, sniffing each of them, and the youngsters? They ignored him, a quick hi before bounding towards the mare who now stood, muscles tense. Ears flat back at the impending chaos.
She nosed H**e urgently, a stomp of her hoof. H**e's head flailing around, clearly trying to stand. Raising her head once, twice, but each time flopping back to the ground, disappearing from view.
Her mum moved between her and the youngsters. Launching at them when they kept coming, teeth barred. The c**t, H**e's older brother, snuck in a quick sniff of her, before they all raced off, the other filly joining them. Leaving the mare and stallion to watch over H**e.
At this point I'm running through possibilities, is she stuck in the shrub somehow? Injured? She clearly can't get up, but why? An hour and I hadn't seen her standing, how long had she been there?
My mum came back and started walking back for the car, it would be safest for us. Allow us to get close without being attacked.
I'd spoke to Huha, and they knew we had a developing situation. On call if we needed them.
While I waited for the car, I tried to get closer on foot. Skirting around them, constantly aware of where everyone was. The four young ones almost out of sight, grazing.
The stallion also grazing, but twenty metres from the mare. An ear flicked to her, on standby. Walking back to her if she moved, raised her head too high.
The mare always between me and H**e. So many shrubs and rocks I couldn't see H**e from any direction.
The one time I tried to go closer she tensed up, the stallion cantering over and I quickly retreating. Him planting himself between me and the mare, her between me and H**e.
It was humbling, how they protected her. Cared about her. Worked together. This foal who had laid there for who knows how long, and they hadn't left her. Wouldn't abandon her.
Jumping in the car with mum we drove to them, off the track. The mare and stallion anxiously moving away. Clearly not wanting to leave her, they ran around us. Called for her, watched us, but fear kept them from coming closer.
I walked the few metres to H**e who lifted her head. A nicker for her mum, her family, as this strange creature knelt beside her. Stroked her neck as I traced my eyes over her body. The only obvious injury her swollen lip, a dent in the dirt where she'd constantly banged it into the ground trying to get up. Legs clear of tangles but close to branches. Had she been stuck and didn't know she could stand? I wrapped my arms around her, big for a foal, legs long, and heavy as I heaved her up. Placed her legs under her, asked her to stand. To please walk. That I wanted her to live. To stay with her family. But they buckled under her, not taking any weight.
Carefully laying her back down I retreated to the car, only a couple of poos from her mum. No placenta in sight. So she'd walked at least a little to get here. Didn't look like she'd been down for more than half a day, but that is a long time when it's a huge percentage of your life.
We quickly had the all clear to take her, HUHA ready with milk. Dehydrated and unable to stand, she would undoubtly die if we left her.
As I carried her back to the car her mum cantered towards us. There was a moment when I wondered if I would have to put H**e down and run, but she stopped, metres away. Terrified and snorting, then spinning away to resume her circling. The stallion also snorting and tense as he trotted around us and the car.
They loved her, and I was taking her. I'm sure they did not want her to die. But how were they to know that I was helping? All they knew, was that I was stealing their baby, the foal that was theirs.
H**e was easy to put in the back of the car. I think it shows just how far gone she was. She'd try to move, to stand. But only succeed in lifting her head before it crashed to the ground. Her legs kicking but unable to get under her.
The sun came out as we drove off with her. It was one of those moments where it should have been raining. Not warmth seeping into your bones as the mare sniffed where H**e had laid moments before.
Driving away, the waves filled with diamonds. The young ones joining the mare and stallion as they galloped past us. Neighing for H**e.
Fighting to swallow past the lump in my throat as I told H**e they loved her, that they hadn't forgotten her.
I half expected her to die before we got home, for it all to have been for nothing. So it was with a sense of relief when we got home, H**e still breathing. She'd even done a decent sized solid poo. So she'd had some milk, her digestive system seemingly working. But she was weaker, lifting her head less, a suckle reflex but unable to swallow. Unable to sit up on her own.
She needed intensive care. Massey was her best chance, her only chance really.
The amazing Carolyn, (the driving force behind HUHA) who we had met up with to get the foal milk, was happy to take responsibility of H**e. To fight for her, to give her a chance while H**e still wanted to fight.
So at 9pm on a Sunday night Carolyn drove us over 2 hours to Massey. H**e sitting in the back seat, wrapped in a blanket, head on my lap. I only went to see her safely there. To make myself feel better.
Stayed out of the way while the Massy team and Carolyn worked into the wee hours of the morning to save her.
When Carolyn and I drove home just after 3am H**e was far from out of the woods, but we could only wait. Trust in the Massey team to do what they do best.
That was weeks ago, and H**e's home with HUHA. Still with things to overcome. But she's on her feet. Bouncing around. A spark in her eye. There's hope.
So many people to thank for that, most I don't even know the names of.
H**e has so far cost thousands and thousands for HUHA. And they run on donations. So a huge thank you to those who have shared her story already, who have donated.
If you are able to donate, HUHA do amazing work. They constantly have animals like H**e who need help. Who wouldn't survive without them. She's just the one closest to me whose story I can share.
