Maisy's Foal

“We ain’t never seen snow quite like this in any November I’ve been around for!” Joe bellowed from the doorway as he tapped his boots on the door jam. “I reckon the wind’s got it feeling like it’s in the negative twenties out there.” He stomped his boots once more and stepped inside, slamming the door behind him with all his might. His body shuddered for a moment and he let out a sigh, “The animals are good though. The chickens look good, the pigs are okay, and a barn owl has made its home in the rafters above Maisy’s foaling stall.” he paused for a moment, “You know, that new space heater is doing them quite good it seems.”

His wife Dolores stood across the room dusting off the old table lamp on the drop leaf table. She set the duster down and walked over to her husband, helping him out of his coat and hanging it by the fireplace above a small tarp placed on the floor to catch the water drippings.

“How is Maisy doing anyways?” Dolores asked.

“Just as stubborn as always. She’s showing no signs of the foal coming quite yet, but hopefully it’s warm enough in the barn and I’m around if anything goes wrong.” he replied, squeezing his feet out of his giant boots and slipping them into his moccasins. “It’s a dark and stormy one out there, so I’m glad tonight is likely not the night.”

Maisy was their four year old Morgan horse, she was about to foal but was taking her time. Joe could not be more impatient, and was often checking her at least once every couple hours. This was Maisy’s first foal, but not the first to be delivered at Greyson Farms. Joe was always prepared for the worst of situations, but rarely did his horses need any help. Maisy was different though, she was shy, petite, and a bit of a chicken when it came to doing anything difficult, so he was worried about her.

“Of course, you remember with Malloy, that foal came like a speed boat on the ocean,” Joe said, easing himself into the old rocking chair. “So I’ll check in about three hours again, maybe I’ve been making her anxious with my frequent visits.”

Dolores agreed and continued to dust about the house for a few minutes, before settling into the armchair adjacent to her husband and turning on the radio beside her.

In the barn, Maisy paced back and forth. She placed her lips onto her half frozen water pail and then ate a few straws of hay. A small exacerbated snort came from her nostrils and she began to turn in circles. Sweat games on her neck and she began to pant. She looked up to the rafters of the barn and saw the old barn owl. Her eyes filled with terror and she let out a whine and dropped to her knees. The owl looked down at her. The other horses in the barn looked cautiously at what was unfolding, and the owl realized that the situation may be dire.

Meanwhile, Dolores and Joe had fallen asleep in their chairs, but after an hour the wind outside gently stirred Dolores. She wandered into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. The outside snowstorm whirled wildly and she looked out the window into the huge white abyss as she waited for the water to boil. Suddenly, a large bird flew towards the window and crashed with a thud, disappearing immediately. Dolores let out a shriek.

“Joe!” she screamed.

Joe jolted awake and jumped to his feet “What?” he answered from the living room.

“Something just crashed into the window!” She panicked and ran back into the living room, “Joe, we need to see if it’s alright. It must have become snow blinded!”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a branch or just some snow falling off the roof?” Jose asked.

“No Joe, it was an animal I’m sure. Could you please go see if it’s alright?” she egged him on. He sighed and complied.

Joe wandered outside, still in his moccasins and his winter coat, now wet and draped over his shoulders. He shone his flashlight down the snowy yard and two eyes stared back at him from the path towards the barn. It was the barn owl. He wandered to where the kitchen window was but then he heard a quiet “who” from the pathway. The owl continued to look at him. Joe squinted his eyes to look at the bird.

“Do you want me for something?” he pointed at himself and raised an eyebrow. The owl ascended and flew a few metres towards the barn. Then it landed and looked back at Joe.

“What do you want me to do little fella?” He questioned. The bird walked a few steps back to him. Joe took a step forward, the barn owl took flight again, flying a few more metres to the barn.

“Do you want me to go to the barn?” The owl continued down the snow filled pathway and then turned around to look at him, its eyes fixated. “Is it Maisy?” Joe sped up to the barn and opened the doors. Maisy was laying on the ground, her giant belly heaving with laborious breaths, her body covered in sweat. Joe ran in and kneeled down beside her, “Oh dear girl, are you having a hard time? Hold on just a second.”

Joe rushed back to the house and opened the door. “Maisy’s having her foal. She’s having some trouble so I think she needs a little help out there.”

Dolores gasped and grabbed her winter coat. Joe assembled a few towels, surgical gloves, a bucket, a kettle of hot water, and a string. The couple made their way back to the barn and aided Maisy with the birth of her little foal. Not less than twenty minutes later, a tiny colt emerged, as white as the snowy night he was born in. Joe and Dolores agreed that Snowy would be an excellent name for the little horse.

Joe looked to the rafters of the barn and saw the owl staring at them below, “Thank you ol’ fella.” he said, and he could almost swear the owl nodded its head. Shortly thereafter, under the watchful eye of the barn owl, Snowy the little white colt took his first steps.

The End.