Feeling Lucky? Then Go Ahead, Breed Your Horse!

My mare Faith just had a baby.  It is a great experience and I highly recommend it for anyone who rides and wants to save money on their next show horse by breeding it.

Just kidding.

I have now got two homebreds, which may not be the right term, since they were bred at the clinic with the expert help of Dr. Hannah and Dr. Richard, and live at Three Wishes Farm. Anyway, it sure is fun.

Watching the Faith and now Layla grow up has been some of the best experiences of my life. Layla was born three weeks ago. She was three weeks late. Waiting for her arrival, however was not fun. I gained almost as much baby weight from stress eating as Faith did. Faith has lost hers, me, not so much.

Still the best part of my day is when I waddle out to the farm to spend time with my girls. Faith appreciates the snacks I bring and the scratches. Mostly the carrots. Layla isn’t so sure about me.

Layla has had strong opinions practically since she could stand, which was 20 minutes after being born. As she’s grown, she has gotten even more determined.

She didn’t like her mother’s fly sheet and threw a tantrum that exhausted her so much she ended up flinging herself on the ground before repeating the performance. This went on for an hour or so. Finally she gave in to hunger and started nursing. Like her mother and sister, she is at heart a pragmatist.

Layla is desperate to play with the other baby in the field, Hallie. Hallie sort of thinks she wants to play as well. But Hallie is no dummy. She has seen Layla double-barrel kick Faith when she’s mad, and isn’t so sure this is what she wants in a playmate. So they circle around each other like tweens at a dance. They start to play and then flee back to their mommies.

Hallie and Layla

Faith was a maiden mare, and for the first weeks, she was the definition of a helicopter mom. If Layla decided to go for a walk, Faith dutifully followed. If Layla took off running, so did Faith, even if it meant dropping the carrot she was eating. Usually she’d look at me and sigh before galloping after her wayward baby.

She’s over it now. Now when Layla runs off, Faith barely notices. Unless the baby is hollering. Layla can’t really whinny yet. It sounds more like a gurgly cough than a horse. If she squeals, Faith checks it out.

Over the last year several rider friends have mentioned that they thought this breeding thing is a brilliant way to save cash. Um.

“My next horse is going to be a mare, so I can breed my own show horse,” one of them stated. “It will save me so much money.”

I was taking a slug of water at the time and nearly choked to death. I refrained from screaming, “Are you fucking insane?” because she so obviously was.

There is a saying about racehorses that goes, “Want to make a million with racehorses? Start with five million.” The same principle applies to breeding. Especially to breeding.

Everything costs money. Everything.

For me, breeding was never about money. It was purely emotional. My Lucy was permanently injured and I didn’t want to give her up. Luckily, she was well bred (news to me!), and the owners of the stallions were willing to let me use them. Yes, your mare often has to be approved before you can PAY for the stallion.

With warmbloods breeding is done via artificial insemination. Thus the mare must be at the peak of her heat cycle  (courtesy the pricey hormone Regumate) when the stallion’s semen is collected. Then you pay for that semen to be shipped (usually same day Fed Ex) to your vet, where you have shipped your mare to be bred. 

You have the vet come to check your mare at 14 days to see if she’s pregnant. If she isn’t, you repeat the process. If you are lucky, and the mare does have an embryo, the vet comes out again in a few weeks to check if she’s still pregnant.

The second and third time I tried to breed Lucy, she lost the baby. Which is why I did an embryo transplant into Faith for Layla.

Since Faith was a maiden we didn’t know if she would be early and two weeks before her due date, she had some issues. Off to the clinic she went. She had no interest in having a baby, but did love it there. She escaped her stall at least once and hung out with some other mares and generally caused trouble. FIVE weeks after she arrived, she gave birth.

Still, I was lucky. Very, very lucky. The birth was uncomplicated, and Layla seems to be pretty darn perfect.

This is not always the case. Two of my friends are serious, professional breeders. They actually sell their horses for a lot of money. Each has had a foal this season with severe issues. With time, and expensive veterinary care, the babies should recover. Or not.

Breeding, particularly if you are an amatuer, is a huge gamble. If all goes well, it is more fun than I can say. You have to hope and pray it keeps going well for the three years that they sit in a pasture before you can ride them.

I can not wait to sit on Faith after Layla is weaned. It will be about four and a half years after Faith was born.

I have no idea if she has any talent. Hopefully she does. Even so, I absolutely know I could have bought a horse with tons of proven talent for less money.

Having foals is amazing. Still, I’m done now. In the future, I’ll visit my friend’s babies.  It’s ever so much cheaper and almost as fun.

Almost.

It’s all worth it.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Back in the day, like a lot of people, I was a big fan of “Cheers.” Except my “Cheers” wouldn’t be an overly bright, lowbrow sports bar . Even in my youth that seemed sad, depressing and creepy.

I envisioned a darker, more literary place filled with smart snarky people. You know, like the Algonquin except with who actually liked me, or at least pretended to.

Certainly during my years as a music journalist, when I spent most nights at clubs checking out bands, that there were places that sort of fit that description. (Anyone remember Club Lingerie? Rajis? Cafe Largo? Even The Coconut Teezer?) I was particularly popular when the bands playing were unsigned or the flavor of the week and they wanted me to write about them.

When I was a label publicist I was often swarmed by people as I walked into shows. Okay, those were usually journalists who wanted free drinks or extra plus ones. But still. They knew me and only occasionally mispronounced my name. My first name.

Things have changed. I rarely frequent clubs any more and if I do, no one gives a crap about me as long as I pay the cover .

But there are still two places where everyone knows my name: the small animal vet and the equine clinic.

Obviously I have way too many pets. That’s a given. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that when I walk into the small animal hospital at least three people greet me by name. They also know the names of all of my dogs. And the cat. And my Mom’s dog.

It’s the same story at the equine clinic. When I call about routine appointments there is a roll call of horses, both dead and alive. While I would really like a frequent user card, (after three vet calls, your fourth is free!), I do get some perks.

When I acquired David Letterman, the alpaca it became obvious he needed to be neutered. Now there aren’t a ton of vets that treat alpacas. They are considered “exotic” animals.

Still, I called the clinic to inquire if they would do it. There was a pause, because, well, they are an equine hospital. They decided to do it because, hey, it’s me. And I begged.

David Letterman the Alpaca

They lived to regret the favor. David screamed and carried on for the full three days he was there. Much like his namesake, he could be a bit of a jerk. He’s gone on to be part of the clinic’s legend. Whenever I’m introduced to someone new, they always add, “She had the alpaca.” Then everyone nods.

Currently I’m visiting a lot, because Faith temporarily lives there. She’s back in the stall where she was born four years ago. She’s waiting to have her foal which after 11 months of gestation, was due last week.

Faith at 11 months plus weeks pregnant

She is currently the size and shape of a hippopotamus and seems to be in no hurry to deliver. Helpful people keep telling me that 5% of mares can go a full year. Thanks.

The only thing that is certain is that she will deliver at the most inconvenient time possible, probably at 4 AM.

She and I have been waiting long enough that everyone I know asks me about the baby. Some of my friends have a betting pool going on. Yesterday was a big pick. Ooops. Try again.

Even when I speak to my mother the conversation goes like this:

“Is there a baby yet?”

“Nope.”

“Well call me when there is one.” Then she hangs up.

I’m beginning to take it all personally.

Faith has been there for a couple of weeks, so it’s no surprise that I know all of the many doctors, the numerous vet techs, even the new ones , the entire office staff (who are bless them, generous with their coffee) and the barn help.

Everyday when I walk into the clinic the first thing I hear is,

“Sharon!”

Apparently I’ve found my “Cheers.”

It’s not exactly the Algoquin, but my barn clothes would be inappropriate around Dorothy Parker.