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| EQUINETOURISM.CO.UK - People4ponies feature - Ebony's Story |
| The Wild Bunch.......... Ebony’s Story by Paul King |
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When we first noticed her in The Wild Bunch we simply called her The Black Mare - she was quality, and had something about her that everyone noticed. At foot she had a strikingly coloured long-legged skewbald foal. The first time she was corralled with the group was late 2002 - we were getting out two fillies, and the black mare was very much more frightened than the others, and without any ‘pressure’ from our helpers leapt wildly at the timber panel fence, splintering the top and racing away into the distance with her colt galloping alongside her. The Black Mare, or Blackie as we called her, had a colt foal in 2003 right at the end of July. We called him Little Blackie. The skewbald colt was now Big Brother but always hung around his mum and the new baby. As the group became used to our presence we could see with our binoculars that Blackie had an ear notch, the same as some of the other mares. Then we noticed another big notch a little lower on the same ear. No wonder she didn’t like humans. She always kept a safe distance from us. Her skewbald colt was separated and brought home in October 2003. He already had a home to go to - we were not the only ones who fell in love with him. He was, at a year old, sweet and easy and was headcollared and leading nicely within an hour of being caught. Blackie was the next one to be caught up, also in October 2003, with her 9 week old dark colt foal at foot. We loose-loaded them into the trailer (this can be a dangerous business with a traumatised wild pony unless great care is taken but it went well) and got them into a stable at home. Blackie did not respond to our usual methods of beginning a relationship with a wild pony. She was desperately protective of the foal and threw her head at me, ears back, presenting her rear end to me for just looking over the door at him. I tried my long cane and false arm, as on previous occasions with other mares and foals, all to no avail. So began a long process whereby she increasingly managed to tolerate my presence near her - initially to bring in hay and water, then to put down a feed, then to leave my hand on the edge of the feed bowl while she ate. She was extremely protective of her foal. I always averted my eyes but tried to be very aware of her movements because if she misunderstood my motives there was no room for manoeuvre and my head was often low down as I crouched in an attempt to lessen her fear of me. Her foal always kept on the other side of her. Surprisingly she took to eating hard feed from a bowl quite quickly so we were able to worm her. Blackie became used to me but I knew that, whilst I could brush past her when I took her hay, if she got the slightest inkling of my touching her on purpose she would be extremely dangerous. If I simply put my hand out for her to sniff, she would just throw her head, ears flat back, saying ‘Go away. I don’t like you’. We told one young lady visitor on no account try to touch her, but she disregarded this instruction, and leant over the stable door (fortunately!) to pat the mare’s rump. BANG!! Blackie gave her both barrels, and we rushed in to find the girl ashen-faced but unhurt, and 2 dirty hoof impressions on our sturdy timber door. It was impossible to do anything with her whilst the foal was there. He was now 5 months old. We thought we would put him in the adjoining stable, achieving this by shutting the door when she was through it and he just coming through. This was a big mistake - we had completely underestimated his fear. He freaked out, literally climbing the partition that separated them, flinging himself toward the top of it and smashing the timber bars above. We opened the door to let him out and get him round and into his mother’s stable, but he was desperate with fear and ran behind us, scrambling up and over our lawn tractor in his panic, his slender, vulnerable legs dropping through the gaps in the steering wheel. Miraculously he came down without damaging himself and we got them back together safely. We realised that our ‘window of opportunity’ with the mare was going to be when Little Blackie was weaned but before the 2004 foal came along, a gap of about 3 months. (We had by now managed to separate colts and mares and put a gelding operation in place, so there would be no more foals after that). Within another month Little Blackie had met our tame weaned foal Bisto and struck up a friendship with him. We progressed to being able to shut these two into a stable next to the black mare. I would go in and stroke Bisto. Little Blackie, very frightened of my presence, would try to keep behind him. Then one day I reached over Bisto’s back and gently touched Little Blackie. There was not the slightest reaction. I realised then that his mother had taught him to be frightened of the sight and sound of humans, but she could not convey to him the fear of being touched. Little Blackie spent more and more time with Bisto and started to come in from the field with him, leaving his mother for half an hour at a time. She would whinny once, then settle to her grazing, knowing he would be back. Then one day a friend of ours, admiring the black mare, offered to foster her. She had more time than we could devote and it would also mean we could wean Little Blackie who would stay here with his friend Bisto. It was a wonderful offer. So, the Black Mare - Blackie - became Ebony, and went to live with Debbie just over a mile away. Debbie joked that she would be leading her in a couple of days, but the task ahead - to have Ebony accept a headcollar - was enormous, and there was now only two months to go before she foaled again. Debbie spent every spare minute with Ebony. Getting her used to the routine of a new place, going in and out of the stable, mucking out, doing hay and water, being careful about eye contact and talking to her all the time. Ebony had the use of a stable and yard - and soon the garden and orchard too. As when she was at home with us she could be moved about but always with caution. In the stable she was still in charge and would swing her rump round and flatten her ears if one tried to move alongside her. Within a few days though, Debbie could go into the stable and, starting a rhythmical hand movement in the air, could advance to Ebony’s near side and smooth her mane. This was a huge break through and the area that could be touched increased - to a point. It was still a big problem for Ebony to have someone move alongside or behind her, or to her offside. Debbie used a brush on her and that was OK on her neck. For the further back bits, the yard broom was accepted! But time was marching on and I decided that we would have to force the issue and get a rope on her. I did this with her in the stable using the rope-on-a-stick method. As soon as the rope was on we let Ebony out, trailing the long rope, and guided her into the round pen. Here I was able to pick up the rope end and start to work with the little mare. She quickly learned pressure and release and soon I could get her to take a step toward me and accept a little rub on her neck. I was able to take the rope off again without any trauma - it had gone so well that I felt that it was better to leave a headcollaring attempt for next time. But there wasn’t a next time for me because the day after that, trying to hurry a woodworking job, I caught my hand in a power saw. It meant three nights in hospital, skin grafts and a severed tendon. Weeks of not being able to fasten a headcollar, and not even able to hold onto a lead rope properly. I cursed my stupidity that was holding up the work with all the ponies, but most of all for Ebony. Help was at hand though and Steve, who is familiar with the methods we use, stepped in to continue Ebony’s education. He gently introduced her to the headcollar, and was able to clip on and continue the pressure and release training. Now that she had a lead rope on, Debbie could more safely reach along the pony’s sides. Foaling was now imminent. Never was a foal more eagerly awaited. Debbie worked out dates again and again. Then one morning the bedside phone rang - it was 6.15 and I reached groggily for it. There came an excited whisper. ‘He’s here!’ ....and, a little later on, we admired the beautiful dark colt with his protective and proud mother. He had a procession of visitors. Everybody asked his name but it was a secret, to be raffled and then revealed at a barbecue in his honour. Preparations were made for the following Saturday and many invitations were sent out and many Name Raffle tickets were sold. It was a lovely barbecue party. Ebony grazed in the round pen while the colt played to entertain the guests. At 9 pm. it was his bedtime and the pen was opened for him to canter out to the field beside his dam. Two days later, the foal was slightly lame. We thought he had over exerted himself, charging about, but the next day it was worse and we called the vet. He confirmed our dreadful fears - Joint Ill. He gave the colt a strong antibiotic injection and left enough for us to continue injecting twice a day for ten days. That night, at 1pm, the phone rang. The most dreadful, heart-wrenching sob. We stood, Cilla and I, on that calm July night, in the dark field. Debbie crouched, crying, stroking the dead foal. On the opposite side stood Ebony, frequently dropping her nose to touch him. It was unbelievable that after all these healthy foals, and him being the very last from the Wild Bunch, that such a thing should have happened. We left him there and watched Ebony during the next day. She lay near him. The weather was warm and by the evening he no longer smelt like her foal and she was grazing further away. By the next morning she was content to come into the stable, and we took him away while she was in there. She did not get mastitis, and she did not, as Debbie had so feared, blame Debbie for what had happened. In fact, that next day for the first time, Debbie was able to go up to Ebony in the field and touch her. Ebony saw her as a friend, maybe as the wild mares use their older daughters. They were united in their shared grief. It is weeks now and Ebony continues to make progress. She can be led about and caught out in the field. She will come to the door and put her head over to see a stranger rather than backing off. Debbie has worked on her mane, untangling it and plaiting it all the way along, just because she can, and Ebony agrees to it. We could not continue with the name raffle although there were some names still not sold including, Debbie said, the one she had chosen for the colt. She fetched the envelope that she had sealed before the barbecue and took out the slip of paper. He had been ‘Ultimus minimus’ - the last little one. The money raised went into the fund to help Ebony and all the others in the Wild Bunch. (Ebony’s story was written in 2004. She is one of the ponies for whom we are seeking sponsorship - please telephone or email for details) people4ponies Horseford Farm, East Worlington, Nr Witheridge, Devon EX17 4SU Telephone/fax 01884 860252
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