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| They had a training barn and a breeding barn on the property, the breeding barn is in the background of this photo. |
My mom had always wanted to see a foal born, and one spring morning my freshman or sophomore year of high school, we got "the call" from Kevin. A mare was about to foal. We raced over there around 6:30 am on a school day. When we got there, Kevin was not smiling. Things weren't going well. I don't remember the details of what happened, but I remember them trying to keep the mare calm as she frantically circled the foaling box with the foal hanging half out of her, scraping the baby's head on the wall at times. It was pretty clear early on that the foal was not alive, so everything they did was with the intention of saving the mare.
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| Same farm, different baby. A happy, healthy future racehorse. |
The reason this otherwise sad story is worth retelling is what happened after. When the mare was stable, my mom decided it was time for me to get to school, and since I was late, she walked me into the main office. The intimidating assistant principal asked why I was nearly an hour late to school, and my mom loudly announced to the office full of mothers and secretaries that "We were watching a horse give birth, and the baby didn't make it."
A hushed chorus of "Aww"'s and "Oh my gosh!"'s echoed through the office, and the assistant principal was no longer arrogant but cowed. I would have preferred that the baby make it even if it meant getting written up, but as it was, there was no way he could get after me for being late after that scene without losing face with the mothers and secretaries. "Just get to class," he said and handed me a note to give to my teacher with no explanation on it.
Luckily the next foaling I attended was a much happier affair, but that's a story for another day.
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