North West Arabian Championships 2021

One of my favourite venues ever, the Parys Afridome, is a massive indoor arena in Parys, Free State. Even though Parys is in a different province to us, it's only about an hour and a half away with a horsebox. Gauteng (our province) is the most populous in South Africa but also by far the smallest (a little smaller than New Jersey), so we're pretty close to the borders of everything.

Anyway, the Dome is used for a lot of different agricultural shows and even weddings, but mostly for horse shows. It's a huge oval-shaped arena bordered with tons of seating and has a built-in restaurant with massive stables, numerous outdoor grass arenas and even paddocks for the horses sleeping over to stay in during the day. The Dome itself can be quite spooky but I've really enjoyed showing there, especially on a reliable horse that likes a bit of atmosphere like Madam President, who really lights up in the big indoor.

The Arabian Horse Society here in South Africa is struggling somewhat. Arabs were all the rage several years ago but have gone out of fashion a little and at the last Arab show I did, there were only 10 or 15 horses in total. However, it seems to be making a comeback, and I'm trying to support it where I can even though I only have little Lancey. Breed societies are really important and really under-supported by the average owner, and I want to do my bit. So when they let us know that there would be an Arab show at the Dome with very reasonable entry fees in the beginning of December, I decided that it would be our little Christmas break.

It turned out to be one of my favourite horse-related memories EVER, start to finish.

I entered the show with the whole purpose being just to go and enjoy. Of course I truly enjoy dressage, but the goal is always to get better and ride better - even though that often means "ride with more relaxation", of course. But for this show, I just wanted to relax after a rather high-pressure spring season. I didn't care if anything went wrong, I just wanted to ride my horse and have a good time and I wasn't at all bothered with placings or even with how well he went. As long as he gave me a ride I could enjoy, I didn't care. He's not a particularly big, flashy, or pretty Arabian, after all, and unlikely to win ribbons even when ridden perfectly - at least, so I thought.

That's why I didn't even bother trying to enter him for the in-hand. We've done that once and it was a complete disaster. The others all went around with flagging tails and flying feet and the ring steward had to chase Lancey with a clipboard to make him trot at all. He fell asleep in the lineup and drooled on the judge. Never again, thanks. So instead we entered the novice show riding and the adults riding horse (both pretty standard showing classes) and then the hunter pleasure which is exactly like a hunter flat class in America. Of course, this is not America, and I had never actually even seen a hunter class before. I did take one lesson with a showing judge beforehand just to feel prepared, during which I may have given her some grey hairs when she started describing how to clip his face for the Arab classes and I said that I wouldn't be clipping at all. Lancey kept his whiskers and the showing coach went away despairing. Very long white whiskers they are, too, showing up nicely against the dark background of the Dome.

Anyway, the show was planned for Friday and Saturday, but my classes all ended up being on the Saturday. By then I'd booked us a night in a nice little place in Parys, though, and cancelled my Friday lessons, so we decided to load up on Friday afternoon and drive out there. Parys is a gorgeous little tourist town filled with cute shops and restaurants so we decided to meet up with Erin while we were there and hang out in the afternoon after our classes, Lancey being totally safe to leave in his show stable with a haynet. (Thank you Lancey).

Friday was a total freaking disaster, because that's how we roll. Nothing went as I planned, I got away from work late, and when I bathed Lancey I accidentally dyed him blue. I'm much too cheap to buy proper shampoo for greys so I just make my own with normal shampoo and a few drops of gentian violet, but the gentian violet leaked all over my hands and I didn't notice and thrust my hands cheerfully into his mane, smearing it with neat gentian violet. It does not wash out, by the way, especially not if you try washing it out with more gentian violet (I know, I know). After a few minutes of trying, I decided that I was not going to fray any more of my nerves over my blue horse, so I just left it. This is why I am not a showing queen by any stretch of the imagination.

Then, while we were packing (yes, we did start packing one hour before we were supposed to leave), a huge thunderstorm rolled in. We threw the last of the stuff in the bakkie and I ran Lancey up to the horsebox while the first few thunderclaps were starting to roll right over our heads. Lancey, to his eternal credit, waltzed straight into the horsebox despite the fact that giant raindrops were pinging off the top like gunshots. He started picking at his hay and off we went.

It's a lovely drive to Parys. We stopped over in Meyerton for a snack and to check on Lancey, who was still blue and still happily eating his hay, and then drove through an absolutely pelting rainstorm with gigantic thunderclaps that had me convinced that we would ruin poor Lancey's ability to travel sanely forever. Every time I checked on him, though, he was still eating his hay with no sign of concern. Legitimately the best Arabian who has ever lived.

It was still drizzling when we arrived, and we were late because of the rain, so we had to stop by our guest house - a gorgeous little place 7 minutes from the Afridome - and check in with Lancey in tow. Of course, he just chilled out in the horsebox while I ran inside and the beloved kept him company.

We eventually arrived at the Afridome just after dark, with a little more than an hour left for arena familiarisation. Lancey strolled on out of the box looking happy as can be (and only literally blue), and we sorted out his stable, let him have some water and hay, and then I tacked him up and took him down to the arena. The arena itself can be fairly spooky, and he was snorting at shadows on the way down, so I was relieved to see a few kids on quiet school horses going around when I arrived. There were a lot of people in the restaurant and plenty of chatter, but Lancey didn't seem to mind this too much. I contemplated walking him around in hand a bit first like I did with Madam President when she showed here for the first time, but my legs were tired and the sand was deep so I figured falling off would be less effort and jumped on.

don't mind the dressage queen trotting around with square numnah and earmuffs

Of course, I didn't fall off, and Lancey didn't so much as snort at a thing. We walked, we trotted, we cantered. He avoided one spot in the arena where a drip of rain had made a little dark patch, but steering around it was easy enough, so I didn't push it. We had just changed rein and started going around the other way when suddenly the horde of school horses disappeared, and I prepared for Lancey to be reduced to a screaming maniac, but I had woefully underestimated him. Lancey didn't seem to notice they'd gone. He just carried on working like a good boy, tail up, thoroughly enjoying himself.

I tucked him up in bed, gave him his dinner and covered him with a day sheet in the vague and pathetic hope of keeping my pure white horse (well, slightly blue) at least moderately clean for the night. Then we had to drive over to Erin's in another bucketing thunderstorm because when I went to pack my cream show breeches I discovered that they had GIANT FREAKING HOLES IN THEM (yes, my life is a train wreck). Erin generously helped me out with a pair of hers. We got to the guest house around 9, which turned out to be absolutely lovely despite the low price point.

The next morning we slept in a little since my first class was only at nine. Reaching the Dome around seven, I found everything unbelievably wet (even part of the indoor had flooded!) and many of the horses looking a little shell-shocked. Not Lancey. Lancey was eating his hay, happy as a bird, while the morning's new arrivals were kicking their doors and screaming all around me. He ate his breakfast while I discovered that the damage wasn't much - just some dirty legs and tummy. The beloved helped me to give him a quick spot-wash (without gentian violet, this time) and sorted out some breakfast while I tacked up for our first class.

Pony in one hand, coffee in the other. He's just got this

The outdoor warmup at the Afridome always tends towards spooky and was practically underwater, so I just gave up on that and walked and trotted him up and down the chute a few times. We had a little canter and he was being picture perfect even though the first class was the novice show riding, ridden in a snaffle. Now this DQ basically only ever rides in a snaffle but Mr. I Throw My Nose Up In The Air Sometimes has cost us a few show classes in the past by pulling out his signature move, so I did want to show him in a Pelham, but showing coach said that this would necessitate entering the open class. So I went into the novice class thinking it would be a nice little warm-up for adult riding horse, which is ridden in a Pelham.

The novice class wasn't very big - four or five of us, I think - but only one was an obvious youngster-losing-his-marbles. I didn't think about the others, or even really about riding; I just let Lancey float around, soft and strong, forward and listening, fighting the connection a little bit the way he does but continuing that conversation as peacefully as we could. I let one of the other horses go in front but Lancey didn't mind a thing. He just went around like a good boy and hardly gave me any resistance in the bridle at all, just a little tightening in his jaw from time to time, and a slight hollowing in some of the transitions.

sincere apologies to the showing people for the numnah being the wrong colour

We were pulled up in random order for the individual test, and Lancey and I went first. He was totally divine. We almost made a little mistake in our walk to canter where he wanted to take the wrong lead, but I managed to stop him before he actually took that canter step, so it was just a small wobble. He enjoyed the big arena for his lengthened trot and I was grinning fit to burst when we finished our test and saluted to the judge. The others rode their tests and then to my great surprise Lancey was being pulled out in first place and given a big red ribbon. He had won. The judge said that he was going beautifully and had the best "extended" trot in the class, and Lancey tried to smear his foamy nose on her suit but luckily I stopped him.

I was amazed and pleased, but no one was more delighted than the beloved. He has always been a Lancey fan because Lancey boxes well and doesn't drag him around at shows, but now "his" Lancey had won a ribbon and therefore had become the most amazing horse who ever existed. He only took a thousand pictures of Lancey and his ribbon (I did not feature prominently in most of them) and was doubly excited when we returned for the novice championships. This was a big class - Arab shows take the top 5 of each class to championship, so it was about 12 or 15 horses if I remember correctly - and it included the novice stallions, who were completely. losing. their. minds. In fact there was a lot of communal mind-losing going on, and while we were cantering on the rail my perfect lil man with his perfect lil collected canter ended up being in the line of fire when the younger horses needed to pass. One mare absolutely sideswiped us by overtaking on the outside just after a corner - I actually felt her breath on my knee when she came past - but lucky for me I have Lancey and he does not care. He didn't even flick an ear. This was not the case for many of the others, who got pretty freaked after Sideswipe Mare crashed past them.

With the rail over, we stood in a long, long line-up. This was a little bit of a train wreck for many of the less fortunate riders (and I have the deepest sympathies because on any other day, that would have been me clinging to the youngsters). The stallions in particular mostly lost it and started rearing and screaming and bucking wildly. Lancey, bless his perfect little soul, was sleeping on the buckle for the whole thing. I tried to hang back in the line-up and let the crazier horses go first since mine was content to wait, but we ended up being called out third to do our individual show.

It started very well, but he had a wobble when we passed the restaurant and a waitress with a big white tray popped unexpectedly through a doorway. Lancey didn't actually spook, but he did break and drop his back for a few strides and it took me a minute to get it back together. He was a little worried about that spot the next time he went past, too - again, not a spook, but he lost rhythm for a second and lost his quarters to the inside. I gave him a lot of love and petting as we went past and he was fine after that, but I do think it probably cost us a place; the judge said as much.

We went back to snoozing in the line-up and avoiding the crazies for a while, and then the judge called out the placings. And he was third! Obviously the beloved was in ecstasy, and I was just so happy to enjoy a lap of honour without being afraid of falling off (laps of honour are a major reason why I hated showjumping and showing for such a long time - I am quite content not to gallop around madly with rosettes on, since Magic used to spook at them and start fly-bucking until they fell off). I still elected to do my lap of honour in a nice lengthened trot, but luckily his lengthening is so pretty that it got some extra cheers, which was fun.

There was a brief break between the championship and Adults Riding Horse, which was also a big class - eleven or twelve horses if I remember correctly. The beloved fed and watered me and I quickly switched Lancey into his Pelham and back in we went. Lancey was quite happily in the swing of things by now. I'd discovered that a lovely adult ammy was riding a youngster that I backed in my time working for the stud that bred Lancey, and it was so nice to see them; the youngster was being OK but a little nervous so I offered Lancey's services as a good example. So we went in with Lancey in front and the youngster right behind him, and of course perfect Lancey didn't care at all that the youngster was bouncing off his bum from time to time.

There were several Open horses in this class, including one that has won nationals many times. Her rider is my showing coach so I had someone to talk to in the lineup, which is always nice. Lancey, obviously, was being perfect, and someone else gave me tips on how to get rid of his blue hair (baking soda apparently) but luckily the judge hadn't noticed that he was blue even if it was driving me a little crazy.

Our individual test was foot perfet this time. We did the changes through walk because we were in the Pelham, and he had completely forgotten about ever spooking at all. I was unbelievably impressed and happy with him. Still, I was also surprised when we came third again, beating out several of the Open horses! Showing coach and her Nationals-winning horse came second, so it felt pretty good to place in that kind of company, and also completely unexpected. The beloved was bursting at the seams, of course, and sending pictures of "his" champion horse to everyone he knows.

After this Erin appeared, making my day even better. We grabbed a nice meal at the restaurant inside the Dome, watching the classes through the big window as horses passed just a couple of feet from where we were sitting. The Dome's food is incredible and we were all thoroughly stuffed by the time we waddled back to the stables to get ready for the hunter pleasure. Erin and I had a fabulous time getting Lancey all plaited and pretty.

Now this hunter pleasure business was an entirely different animal for me. It's very similar to a hunter flat class, with similar turnout, and you show walk, trot, canter, and hand-gallop on the rail, turning around against the rail instead of changing rein over the middle. There's no individual test either. And the whole style was different to me, too. I was trying really hard to figure out this whole light seat but not taking your bum out of the saddle, and also coach said to have the frame "long and low", so I obediently stretched Lancey down to the ground for much of the class. For the record, this was unsuccessful. Lancey and I didn't even place in the top seven, but he was an absolute superstar, Erin and the beloved cheered disproportionately to our performance, and I just galloped around grinning madly because my pone was being perfect and beautiful and easy to ride and everything I needed him to be.

He was quite happy to hand graze for a bit and then relax in his stable with a haynet while we went off to explore Parys. We wandered through a bunch of little shops, including one which had the most gorgeous horse themed decor to the tune of R1200 (about $50) for a throw cushion, so we noped right out of there. We did find these cute little shelf thingies which Erin and I each bought one of, Erin for plants and me for boring grown-up things like tins and paper towel. I also found a secondhand bookshop and decided to lash out on three books from an author I haven't read before, Jeffery Deaver. I'm truly glad I did because I only paid R170 for the lot (about $12) and I absolutely LOVE them. Definitely see more Deaver in my future.

We had lunch at this beautiful place serving traditional Afrikaans food right on the main street, and the restaurant across the street had musicians playing, so our restaurant had turned off their speakers and we enjoyed being serenaded by a string quartet while Erin and I demolished some traditional pies and the beloved had offal (my dude is gross).

It was starting to rain again when we got back to the Dome, but Lancey was more than happy to trot right into the horsebox and go back home. We got home just before dark on Saturday evening, happy,  healthy, content, covered in satin and filled with wonderful memories. And honestly, what more can you ask of a horse show?

Extravagantly spoiled by the God of all my days. He is good!

you can see a little of the blue here lol

noble Lancey feat. tail of youngster we were babysitting

A Lady High and Valiant

 The night of December 15th, 2021, I was bent frantically over the keyboard as usual, tapping madly away at one of the deadlines that come upon one like a train at that time of year. There was a storm brewing and I kept checking the time. At 7 pm, evening check, Arwen had had a little bit of wax. It took me a bit by surprise because her due date at her usual 345 days was only on December 24th; she was only 336 days. As always, she had absolutely no edema and no real belly to speak of, but wax is wax. Still, she usually waxes 48 hours in advance, so I wasn't particularly expecting a baby tonight. I thought I'd just check on her before bed, to be sure.

It was a good thing I did, too. It was 10:00 by the time I finished up. The storm was coming nearer, the night lit up from time to time by brilliance, but the air was still heavy and sweet with summer. In all of her moods, the Highveld is most unpredictable when she brews a storm.

The beloved and I hurried out. I was tired and had a long day of work ahead of me, too, so I just wanted to do a quick check and get back to bed. The power was out, and the stables were absolutely dark when we stepped inside. Lancey greeted me, as usual, and the air was filled with the quiet sound of horses chewing.

Arwen's stable is right at the end of the barn, on the left. When I reached it, I heard her happily chewing and decided that it was as I suspected - no baby yet. Then I heard scrabbling somewhere around my feet and turned on my torch, and there it was, a soaking wet little dark foal flopping madly in the shavings and making a spirited effort to get up.

I jumped a mile. Arwen, who was unconcernedly eating her hay with the placenta hanging out, gave me a questioning look. There was some blood around - it seemed that she had either given birth standing up (while eating, knowing Arwen) or had gotten up a bit quickly straight afterwards and broken the umbilical cord a little early. Either way, she seemed as happy as can be, and the foal was snorting and flailing its little legs around in high spirits.

There was a cold wind blowing in through the open side of the barn and it had that restless quality that it gets when a storm is about to break. The foal was starting to shiver, and I dived to help, twisting a bit of clean hay into a wisp and doing a bit of rubbing. Arwen decided that this was now my problem and continued to happily eat her hay while I rubbed and checked the foal over. It was absolutely brand spanking new - couldn't have been born more than ten minutes before - and a beautiful solid bay filly without a single white hair anywhere on her.

I asked the beloved to rush home for some towels and off he went, and while he was gone, it suddenly began to hail. The sound on the stable roof was deafening enough that some of the horses got rather unsettled, but Arwen continued to munch on her hay, apparently bent on filling up her suddenly-empty belly. I scooted the foal to the other corner of the stable to get out of the cold wind and went on rubbing, growing more and more enchanted with the tiny filly as I did so. Her dish face was as pronounced as a baby Arabian's, and she had inherited her mama's enormous dragon ears.

The beloved returned in the car and shone the headlights into the stable. We both grabbed a towel and started rubbing, and the filly started to nicker and renewed her efforts to get to her feet. Once she was dry, I noticed that she seemed to be having a little trouble getting her right hind underneath her and straightening the tiny fetlock joint. When I took it manually it straightened just fine, but I was immediately worried. Very gently, I scooped her up in my arms - she was absolutely tiny - and set her on her feet. The right hind immediately straightened out, and she started to stomp around the stable in that mad, flailing fashion of brand new foals.

At this point, Arwen realized that it was time for her to take over, and she came up to the filly and started nuzzling her and nickering happily, pushing her in the direction of her udder. The filly, once up, showed no inclination of doing anything except suckling - on anything she could find: her mom's belly, the walls, me. With a little gentle guidance, she latched right on and drank like a champ.

As soon as she'd had two very good drinks, the filly abandoned this quest and started parading around and around the stable. I've never seen a little foal stay up for so long right after birth - normally they seem exhausted after suckling and take a little nap. But Arwen's filly walked around everywhere, often bumping into me. Arwen had gone back to eating hay, pausing occasionally to shepherd her foal away from the walls, and didn't seem to mind at all that whenever the filly bumped into me I would do a little imprinting.

Eventually, the filly lost her footing and flopped over in a heap, then immediately started trying to get back up on her own. While all this was happening, Arwen lifted her tail, still eating hay, and expelled the placenta. Apparently not even third stage labour will keep Arwen away from her dinner. In similar spirit, the filly cheerfully passed her meconium around the same time. The two of them had hit all four major milestones within an hour of the birth.

We stuck around until the filly had gotten up on her own and had a drink. By that time, it was one in the morning, and Arwen and the filly clearly had no further need of our assistance. I cuddled and hugged and kissed them both goodnight and we headed off through the pouring summer storm.

I'd already tentatively picked out a name for a filly from Arwen, which, in keeping with our Lord of the Rings theme, was Eowyn. When I saw the strong filly and all of her spirit, I knew it was the perfect name for her. Morning Star Eowyn it is. Known to friends as Wynnie, she's three weeks old now and growing strong, healthy, and wonderful in every single way - everything that I'd been hoping for.

Breeding so often goes wrong, sometimes catastrophically, sometimes with mild disappointment. While Eowyn and I are still at the very start of our journey, I know that so far, this has been nothing short of a miracle. We so nearly lost her when Arwen was sick in April. I was so happy that she just retained the pregnancy - never mind giving me a gorgeous filly that even came in the colour that I wanted.

God is gracious!

Her giant dragon ears 💜💜💜

SO dishy! Dish faces are accepted in Nooitgedachters, who had some Arabian influence in the early years of their development. Straight profiles are considered more correct, but I'm very partial to the pretty dish personally.

Raging at Arwen for getting in the way of her explorations the next morning

The very best mommy dragon!

Her first time outside. Look at those straight, sturdy legs for a day-old filly!

Major Update 2 of 3: Baby Faith

Baby Faith is nearly two months old already - and I have so many other things to write about, too! But I'm not going to beat myself up over it. One of my most important goals for 2022 is to be less bogged down in the "things of this world" that don't particularly matter and that nonetheless manage to bring me a crippling amount of stress. I almost decided to give up blogging once and for all, after nearly 10 years, but I won't. I love the blog and I enjoy looking back on journals of the horses and my walk with Christ. I'm not a consistent blogger and it falls by the wayside when other, more important things get in the way, and that's OK with me. It won't create a vast readership, but I don't need one. I'm flattered by those of you who take the time to read and say hello, and the blogosphere is one of the few truly pleasant pockets of Internet where one can really just enjoy time with likeminded people and not have random fights all the time, and I love reading and lurking on everyone's blogs even if I don't always comment. Nonetheless, this overachiever has decided that blogging is something I'll allow myself to do imperfectly.

Without further ado, may the imperfection continue. 

* * * *

Faith was giving me the run-around for some time after the birth of little Rose on the night of Sunday the 14th of November. She had been enormous for weeks, with a gigantic edema, and often looked very uncomfortable - even mildly colicky - in the afternoons. Still, there was just no milk at all. Her udder was slowly filling but I couldn't express a thing.

On Monday the 15th, she really started getting upset during the late afternoon. She paced up and down, kicked at her belly, and generally looked miserable. Her lovely gut sounds and great vital signs pointed not to colic but to early labour, so of course the SO and K and I sat up with her until well past midnight. By then she was just eating hay, as she was doing at 2am, 4am, and 6am when we went to check on her. So that was a whole night of sleep deprivation for no good reason.

Anyway, she was fine on Tuesday, and then on Wednesday poor K's car broke down (and she'd been SO excited to see a foaling), so obviously Faith decided that Wednesday was the night. She was waxed when she came in that night and began to vigorously stream colostrum around 7. I caught some of it, just in case, but she was getting more and more restless so I thought we were probably close. We grabbed dinner, some snacks, and a Thermos of coffee (the beloved is nothing if not prepared) and camped out in front of her stable around 9pm.

We didn't have terribly long to wait. At 11pm exactly, her water broke, and to my utter relief she lay down and got straight to work. The beloved has done a few calvings, whelpings and hatchings in his time but this would be his first foaling from start to finish in which the foal survived (the poor soul helped me pull a sad little stillborn foal out of a mare at work, too), and he was wide-eyed with wonder and simultaneously a very good practical help. It was an unbelievably special time: Faith, the beloved, the foal, the dark summer night and me.

About 12 minutes after the water broke, Faith was not making much progress.The foal was sticking at the head and knees, as they do, and the head seemed a little bit askew. I took the front legs and did some gentle downward traction in time with her contractions, and at 11:15, the foal came spilling out into my lap.

Faith seemed absolutely shell-shocked. The beloved helped me to clear away the amnion from the foal's face, and she immediately started to breathe and try to sit up: a perfect dark bay filly, already starting to go grey around her eyes. Rene, in the stable next door, immediately began to talk reassuringly to the filly. Faith lay still for a few minutes while I petted and reassured her.

Once she started to look around in confusion, and the beloved helped me to bring the foal around to her head. Immediately, her eyes lit up, and she started to nicker in excitement as she nuzzled and licked her baby.

Faith has always been highly opinionated and I would be lying if I didn't say I was a bit worried about how she'd react to looking after her baby. After all, when her milk just came in, I tried to give her a little scratch around the teats and she gave me such a solid kick over the knee that I couldn't ride for an entire week (a true disaster in my world). But I needn't have worried. The moment she started nuzzling that baby, she was absolutely obsessed.

After maybe ten minutes, with a mighty effort she expelled the placenta. That breaks the record for quickest third stage of labour I've ever seen, so kudos to you Faith and thank you - the Friesians were driving me nuts with retained placentas this year. Then she promptly got to her feet and started encouraging her foal to rise.

The filly had been making wobbly attempts to get up for a few minutes now, and before midnight, the little lady was on her feet and wobbling madly around the stable as they do.

People say one shouldn't "mess with" the newborn foal in these early hours, but honestly, we have messed with the mare all her life and will mess with that foal for the rest of its life so unless the mare is aggressive I'm pretty hands-on with the newborn. Faith was far from aggressive, sometimes leaning into me as if for a bit of reassurance in this bewilderingly wonderful new experience. So the beloved steadied her head a little and I plugged the baby in to drink, still worried about the amount of colostrum that was escaping. There was no trouble at all with this - by 12:30 that foal had a good bellyful of milk and was starting to figure out how to do it herself, and Faith was standing still to let her. I spent a little more time doing some imprinting on feet/girth/ears of the foal before going back to sleep. By 2:30, the filly was rising and suckling very strongly on her own.

It was a pretty textbook birth although I'm glad I was around to help Faith out a little when the baby got a bit stuck. I think she could have done it on her own but it might have had a few complications. She did tear a tiny bit as it was, not enough to warrant stitches, but a few days of antibiotics and anti-inflammatories were in order and it healed within days. The foal had slightly weak front legs for the first day, but they sorted themselves out very quickly.

Faith was super overprotective for a full week after the foal was born so we kept them in a small paddock until she seemed to relax and we turned them out with Rene and Rose, which made both foals extremely happy.

Her owner named her Daydream Southern Lass - Lassie for short. Lassie became the 517th foal bred by Daydream Stud, which has been in existence for 53 years out of the Nooitgedachter breed's 70 years of existence. She is a special little lady and we adore her!