Trudy Andrew | Canadian Author

Pony Tails


Though I searched high and low this morning, not a single piece of chocolate was to be found anywhere. All that dang rabbit left was raisins, so many raisins, and not a one covered with chocolate!

I’m reminded of one, most memorable Easter a long time ago.

One where my adorable, little Shetland pony, Tina, was showing signs of foaling. Now, I’m not a fan of early spring babies. There’s always the chance of bad weather where it could be ridiculously cold, so I prefer later babies. May to July is just fine, as far as I’m concerned. This soon to arrive foal, however, was the product of local teens thinking they were being funny, and opening multiple gates. Two year and a half old colts had the time of their lives with the mares. I now had the worry of watching this tiny pony have her first foal, which was either by a 1/4 horse or Appaloosa. The foal didn’t appear to be too big for her, so that was a relief. The vet said nature usually took care of such things. I was grateful that this seemed to be the case for little Tina.
As she appeared close, I brought a bale of hay into her boxstall, and prepared to wait. She seemed to like the company, and we had a rather long, one-sided conversation. She moved close, her eyes shut as she listened and enjoyed a comforting scratch. Suddenly, her eyes opened wide, she looked at me, then before I realized what she was going to do, she bit me! Hard, right on the leg! Tina was a pony with no vices, not a one. She was about as sweet as could be, and completely trustworthy in every way. I bit my tongue and didn’t respond other than with a bit of surprise. Clearly, she’d felt a strong, painful contraction and had reacted to it. Mere minutes later, a lovely, tiny, black filly was born. All legs, we could easily hold her in our arms. She was perfect, and beautiful, and I was grateful both mama and bay were fine. My sore leg, completely forgotten at the sight of the new filly. Tina never, ever bit again, and was a perfect mama. The name of the new baby? Why, Bunny, of course!

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About Trudy Andrew

Trudy Andrew lives on a small farm just east of Winnipeg, Manitoba, where she enjoys her Morgan horses. A dreamer since she was a child, its no surprise to those who know her well that her imagination would find an outlet in writing, as it has in the past through artwork.
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 Oakbank, MB