Ridin', Reinin' and Writin'

She entered the world on June 8, 2011, a little, rather scrawny, bony sorrel filly with distinctive markings - a bold white strip down her face missing a chunk  (like someone had bit a piece out of it!) that turned up on the left side of her back in the form of an unusual, irregular-shaped spatter of white -  like someone flicked a paint brush at her. I had not been looking forward to this foal and now I had a crop-out! I was not thrilled.

 

  It had been a traumatic and sorrowful foaling season. Easter required emergency measures to save her baby and Prima lost the foal I had pinned dreams on. In fact, I had lost a piece of myself when I buried Baby Wimpy. I dreaded the last mare foaling. Whether I liked it or not, though, Silk was going to foal. I monitored her progress more out of duty than joy,  and now here the baby was - with her own set of problems - I had to drag her out of the stall when her mother colicked, then rescue her again a couple of hours later when mom had a panic attack! Although she was unfazed, I had had enough.

"When will it end?" I thought. "I'm tired and I don't want any more foals - ever!"

I gave her the name I had picked for Prima's foal had it been a filly (It wasn't.) - Feather. I had already decided not to plan ahead to next year even if I suceeded in getting Prima back in foal to Wimpys Little Step and giving the name away was part of that. Much had been attached to that name...(Read Feathers and Faith.) I let it go...

Feather is a month old now. Until recently I didn't pay much attention to her. I cared for them of course, even took a few photos, but I didn't halter her, pet her or hang out with her. I had nothing left to give and she and the two colts were just reminders of a painful memory that wouldn't go away.

Apparently Feather had other ideas. She always came to greet me, ignoring my indifference. If I sat in a lawn chair while Silk grazed, Feather would come up behind me and nuzzle my hair. She wouldn't leave me alone, wouldn't take "no" for an answer. And she won. Slowly, I emerged from my self-imposed, self-indulgent "funk". I noticed how pretty she was, how personality oozed from every pore, how she tried so hard for me to make me notice her. Feather was accomplishing what nothing else could. She was bringing me back to life. Like the gentle touch of a feather, she drew me to her. She is teaching me to love her. And the white spot on her back? It's growing too... and I'm learning to love it because it is part of her, a part of a very sassy filly who is filling a hole in my heart.

And so I must consider the possibility that my choice of the name, "Feather", had a far greater purpose than for a Wimpys Little Step filly. That name was meant to belong to a pretty, little sorrel filly with a big heart and the motivation to stir mine. Am I healed enough to face another loss? I don't know. But the other half of the title of that post last winter was "Faith". Remember - feathers are believed to protect and to carry spiritual messages. And I have my Feather.