A strange thing is
happening. Mum and I are walking home from the beach and can hardly see where
we’re going as a sea mist has come in.
But we can hear things – an
odd sort of snorting and stomping. So we stop and listen. Suddenly I see the
ponies. Most of them are standing quite still, in a kind of circle. One,
though, seems a bit frantic and now throws herself on to the ground.
What’s wrong with her? I
look up at Mum, who shakes her head as if expecting me to disgrace myself. Then
we are both drawn into the circle and somehow into the herd. I feel bigger,
thinking of myself as part of this family, and I also feel important – too
important to bark, or disappoint Mum or the ponies.
Something weird is going on
… something that I mustn’t interrupt. Mum and I keep very still … watching and
waiting.
The mare stands up and
starts stomping again. Her tail lifts and a kind of bubble comes under it.
Before I can take this in,
she’s back on the ground again and now the stallion edges forward, putting a
front hoof on her big belly as if telling her that he’s helping.
The bubble is getting bigger
and bigger until I slowly realize that it isn’t a bubble at all. I can see two
little hooves and, as I watch, a whole foal eventually appears and tries again
and again to stand up on wobbly legs.
We wait until it is standing
on all four legs and then Mum whispers softly: “Well, Sam, now that we’ve
witnessed the miracle of birth I reckon it’s time to go home and have
breakfast!”
