~ "The Weaning" ~

For those of you who don’t know what weaning means, obviously if you don’t raise horses like I do, you might wonder . . .

Weaning takes place when a Colt becomes five months of age and it is imperative that they become “weaned” from their mare mother; similar to puppies and kittens that are torn from their siblings and parents around the same age to be adopted by new human families.  Weaned colts are taken away to a place somewhere else on the ranch where they are out of sight of the mare, and the mare is out of sight of them as well.

It is a very painful process for all involved, as young animals, just like human children, form inseparable bonds with their mothers and vice versa.  But it a necessary evil, for the mare may be in foal with a new baby on the way, as was the case in the Poem below, which was actually written for one of my own colts that I had to tear away from his momma, and he was grief-stricken, as was the mare.  The whole farm was affected.  Even the dogs and goats walked around for three days in a depressed fog, not eating.

So, it can be devastating to all, but again, it has to be done eventually so that the colt can begin his early training without distraction, and his mom can concentrate on either a new eventual foal of her own, or she needs a break from having been sucked dry of her milk sac for five long months from her hungry baby.  It sounds cruel, I know, but it has to be done, the sooner, the better, for all concerned.


Thus, the poem was born from actual events having taken place on my farm on many occasions when a colt/filly had to be taken away from his momma and of course, she calls after him too; she misses him just as much, as in this case, both of them didn’t eat for days.


~ "The Weaning" ~


With intensity I played
and sought shadows that
taunted and followed me

momma's watchful eye
kept me close to her safety net
during times when I strayed too far
across the pasture and then she'd fret!!!

Her galloping hooves signaling
me back to her warm side--
how she'd look at me and swing
that awesome mane from side to side

"this is my baby" she'd tell the world
with gleaming, snorting pride

Always safe within her breath
but then the day did come
when humans decided it was time
to wean and so off to
pastures strange and huge

where still I sought her or
something like her scent
but of course there was none

Other colts to occupy my time
but momma called quite frequently
I heard her sadness on the wind:

I'm over here I'd whinny back
and chased the fence line up
and down and forever back again

But I could not get to her nor she to me
-it was as frustrating as it could be
Why can't we get to one another
We could hear the other, but never again could see

So now, a little older,
perhaps not as wise,
I play with less intensity
and the shadow I seek is not my own - -
it's hers, where once was home

Will I ever see her again?
Months fly by
and every now and then

I stop in the midst of grazing
hoping and listening for that familiar call
that doesn't ever come again

The silence hurts so bad
I'd never tell the other colts
I knew inside the day would
come when

growing up was what I had to do
but I always thought I could kick
my hooves into a sky
and mom would always be there,
waiting for me to fly

Time to move on, but still I continue at
intervals to listen for her
even long after she stopped

she stopped calling, I don’t know why
It saddened my heart and I’d still
look for her up each grassy hill,
or around each dusty bend

until the other colts finally told me
she even had another new baby
to call to in the Wind. . .