Foal Rejection: A kinder,
gentler way©
By Leslie Heulitt, Gate Farm, West Virginia
The blessed events I had been looking forward to for over a year and a half were about to happen. Three of my four jennets were bagging up and the midnight barn checks had begun.
Being new to the ways of donkeydom, I had bred "Faith" and her half sister; "Hope" as two year olds. After subscribing to all the donkey publications and finding out this was too young, I had some thoughts on foal rejection. I was usually so lucky, I thought, it couldn’t happen to me, my sweet loving gentle jennets wouldn’t do that, right? Wrong!
It was Friday morning June 4, I hit the barns early as we had two school groups coming to the farm that day – with approximately 90 kids in each group. I wanted everything immaculate so we could start giving pony rides promptly at 9 a.m.
I trotted up to the donkey barn, peeked into the stalls, there was my first foal and I knew I had a problem.
My lovely "Faith" was pressed up against the gate; all the way in the back of the stall huddled in the corner was a little foal, almost dry with the placenta still dragging at the end of the umbilical cord.
So began six days of hell at Gate Farm.
I knew this little guy had to have some colostrums ASAP. Reassuring "Faith" I brought the foal up only to find my sweet "Faith" had turned into the donkey from hell. Back out I went for a halter and lead. I tired "Faith" up tight to the post at the front of her stall, brought the foal up again and the fight began. Thankfully the little guy was more than willing to nurse once the opportunity presented itself. He sucked away while I held one of "Faith’s" back legs up and kept her rear pinned to the wall with my body.
This sound pretty easy right, well it wasn’t. I acquired the first of many bruises. In retrospect, I realized now I was lucky to have been able to restrain her by myself. All that stall cleaning, hay hauling, wood packing and trotting up and down these West Virginia hills was paying off. The little jack had gotten his first all-important meal of colostrums.
Off to the house I went for the "kidding box" on the way back to the donkey barn I informed my partner, and the hired boy they were on their own with the school groups and to step on it! I was free to deal with "Faith" and her foal.
Back up the hill I went to the donkey barn with the "kidding box." No matter what I raise, goats were first in my menagerie, that box contained all the paraphernalia for all the births at the farm and will always be the "kidding box."
This little jack already had a name, "Ozzie Bunberry" (and that’s another story). I took care of "Ozzie" first clipped the navel cord, iodined the stump, gave him a tetanus shot, put the placenta in a bucket and then dewormed "Faith".
All the other donkeys were wonderful, attentively watching all of this, totally unconcerned about their about their breakfast. Well breakfast came next, nothing wrong with "Faith’s" appetite, only her attitude.
After all had eaten, came "round two." Again I tired "Faith" up, if anything she was even worse but "Ozzie" got another good suck. I untied "Faith" and was off, at a lope this time, down to the pony barn to tack up "Betsy" the pony, while the hired boy finished the feeding and cleaning at the end of the farm. A quick dash to the concession to confer with my partner then back up to the house to put away the kidding box. Then I put in the two phone calls one to Bonnie Gross the other to Sue Myers, both assured me I was doing all the right things and she probably would come around shortly. Ha!
My hour was gone, back up to the donkey barn I went for "round three." No change of attitude, but as soon as I had her tied and pinned, little "Ozzie" went to town getting his third good dose of colostrums.
By now I was consoling myself with the thought that if I were a young, spoiled animal with weird hormonal changes happening to my most uncomfortable body and than I experienced an increasing degree of pain, and than some wet alien being appeared behind me and wanted to suck on my teats – I don’t believe I’d let it either.
With that thought in mind, back down to the concession I went to greet the first school group. I explained to them the pony rides would take a little longer but they could all meet a brand new baby donkey if they were quiet and gentle. They were.
Needless to say, "Ozzie" was the hit of the day. Everyone loved him by "Faith". All the other donkeys got to meet and sniff him; "Faith’s" mother "Frosty" went wild. She wasn’t having a foal this year and wanted "Ozzie" so bad it was pitiful to see her cry so.
After rounds, four, five and six, I was more than a little battered and "Faith’s" attitude wasn’t changing but "Ozzie" was getting fed hourly in spite of her. By then the school groups had left and I decided to move "Faith" and "Ozzie" down to the pony barn where there was electricity, still hoping her attitude would change before dark. I got cranky without my sleep but don’t feel bottle-feeding is the best way to raise an animal. I only will bottle feed as a last resort and was more than willing to forgo a little sleep to get "Faith" to accept this foal.
After an exhausting day, night found me curled up in my quilt in the corner of their stall. It seems I would no sooner doze off when it would be time to donkey wrestle again.
Day two dawns . . . . . I decided to drop the feeding to every other hour. It was a sunny warm day and since "Faith" wasn’t actively trying to kill "Ozzie," I left them loose in the corral. There might have been a little less fight form "Faith," or maybe I had gotten better at restraining her. Late that afternoon, "Faith" had her named changed to "You Rotten Witch," all my sympathy had gone with my lack of sleep.
Another almost sleepless night was spent wrapped in my quilt in the barn. "Ozzie" was getting smarter, instead of going to "You Rotten Witch" and getting kicked or bitten for his efforts, he would come and paw me when he wanted to nurse.
Day three dawns . . . . . After two more frantic call to Bonnie and Sue, I settled down to "the routine." It’s come down to woman against jennet. I was determined to win! We were still on a two-hour schedule and "Ozzie" honks like a goose every time I come around the bend. By afternoon, things were getting easier. I could just hold her halter, she would pin her ears back and hump up, but she would let him nurse without a major fight. I had to stay alert; if my attention wavered she would quickly jerk her head around, grab "Ozzie" by the back leg and throw him away from her. That night I slept in the tack room with an alarm clock since "Ozzie" now thinks I should stay up and play with him all night.
Day four dawns . . . . . . I’m finally ready to take Bonnie’s advice to try hobbles and a muzzle. No go, within 20 minutes, "You Rotten Witch" is so frantic and wild, I’m afraid she’ll go down and hurt herself, so off come the hobbles and muzzle. Once again I sleep in the tack room.
Day five dawns . . . . . . I am a babbling idiot, but it’s getting easier. I can hold her halter and she will stand quietly and let him nurse. Lo and behold by that afternoon "You Rotten Witch" is showing some maternal interest in "Ozzie." Even though she isn’t voluntarily letting him nurse, she is staying close to him, following him around to the corral, even touching him with her nose occasionally.
"Ozzie" by now, is a very independent fellow and still honks like a goose when he sees me coming. After another call to Bonnie I decide to up "You Rotten Witch’s" grain. I throw in a handful of calf manna and drop the feedings to every three hours. "Ozzie" nursing to relieving the pressure in her bag. Once again I sleep in the tack room.
Day six dawns . . . . . "You Rotten Witch" is sticking real close to "Ozzie" touching him often and will let him nurse if I just put my arm around her neck. I decide to treat myself to a few hours sleep in my bed. I drop the feedings to every four hours. The pony barn is almost ¼ mile from the house.
At 8 p.m., all’s the same, 12 a.m. all’s the same. At 4 a.m. I drag myself down there, am standing half asleep with my arm around "You Rotten Witch’s" neck when she turns around and bites me in the leg – hard! Well I lost it – I’m tired, bruised and cranky, in the best of moods I don’t take well to being bitten. I grabbed her ear and bit her back as had as I could. "Ozzie" was done nursing so mumbling and grumbling I took myself back to the house, fell into bed and overslept!
Work up at 9 in a panic, got down to the barn so fast you would have thought I had wings on my feet. Looked in the stall and will wonders never cease – there was "You Rotten Witch," her lip hanging down with a dopey, dreamy look on her face and "Ozzie" nursing away!
"I had won! Woman triumphs over donkey! Gee, I thought maybe I should have bit her five days ago!
"Faith" got her name back and went on to lovingly raise "Ozzie." I got some quality sleep and spent in the next 13 days wondering if "Faith’s" half sister, "Hope," would do the same thing – which she didn’t.
All the foals have gone to their new homes now and although "Faith" did finally become a loving, attentive mother, she did not seem to miss "Ozzies" as much as the other two missed their foals.
Although this was my first donkey baby and a half of an introduction it was! "Ozzie" was only one of hundreds of babies of many breeds I have raised over the last twenty-five years. So let me give you a little advice. Don’t be so hasty in grabbing that bottle. If your schedule allows you the time and your constitution the patience and perseverance, you can usually make the most reluctant goat, sheep, pig, cow, horse or in this case, donkey, accept it’s baby. All of these "bad moms" I had were maidens, all finally accepted their young and none ever gave a repeat performance.
Patience, perseverance and above all, kindness will usually triumph because a woman has to be smarter than a donkey or goat or sheep or cow or whatever!
Many, thanks to Bonnie Gross and Sue Myers for all the phone support during this time.
July 1993