Up until last year, I thought I knew all about foaling. I had 14 healthy foals throughout the years grow up under my care, had read and studied everything I could find on the subject, and thought I knew it all. Then my ego turned upside down. Or perhaps, right side up.First, my favorite mare surprised me by not foaling when I expected. She was two weeks early, and dropped down in front of the herd at 10 am to push the baby out.
I used to believe the birthing process was the big concern, and would scrutinize every movement of the mare and the presentation of the foal. Once the baby was on the ground and his or her navel dipped, life was a done deal. My worries were over. I could finally sleep through the night again, and enjoy doing imprinting work with the foals in the nice sunny daylight hours. Life was good.
At four days old, this foal died. We had an autopsy done on the baby and learned that the killer was a bacterium in our soil. Clostridium Perfringens. A bacterium that could have been brought to the ranch in the hay, by a rabbit or deer, or by the nearby range cattle. A bacterium that once established in your soil will always be there. There is nothing known to successfully get rid of it. There is no known cure, no vaccination, nothing you can do except hope it doesn’t get the foals. Some years it will. Some years it won’t. I had two more foals due. The next one got it. The vet said she had only seen one other foal survive. Miraculously, this foal did survive, after quite a courageous battle. The last foal of the season was completely spared.
And so I go into foaling season this year, with five mares due, filled with apprehension, completely uncertain. The first mare of the season is in the foaling shed now. I expect she will birth tonight. I will not sleep much, and be there for her. But in reality, what good can I do?
Likewise, up until a couple years ago, I thought I knew how to ride. Then I took on some new challenges that forced me to question my knowledge, like training a little Arabian stallion. And attending a horse clinic that did more to crush my false sense of ego than to teach me good skills with horses. Confidence shattered, the fear began to solidify. Without the false confidence and safety, and driven by fear to question every move I or my horses made, I could see more clearly now how little I really did know.
The roller coaster ride became all too common: coming in from working with my horses one day elated with the progress made, and coming in the next day in tears of frustration due to my lack of knowledge.
Somewhere along the way, we reach a stage in learning where the bottom drops out. I somehow preferred the false sense of confidence I had in my ignorance. I didn’t know how much I didn’t know, if that makes sense. And you know the expression: ignorance is bliss. When we don’t see how much we don’t know, we feel fine about our little world. All is well. Once we begin to open the doors and start to see how much is really out there, it’s a scary place at times. Like going through life with our feet firmly planted in the air.
I imagine I’ll get one day to a place of solid foundation. And I suppose then it will be a real foundation. The one I had before was false, or at least, feeble. Now I am working toward a base of knowledge. It’s slow to come. Very frustrating, but I’m stubborn and will continue to work at it, despite the challenges and disappointments.
At times, I think perhaps it is because of these challenges and disappointments that we are forced to re-evaluate our knowledge base, to reconsider the basis of what we used to believe was true, what used to work for us. Then, we can finally, solidly build upon it. I just wonder why it can’t be easier?
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