Skittle, the Orphan Racehorse, and Other Race Horse Tales

A Filly Is Born

One spring day, when the sun was shining brightly, Liz walked across the fields and down the road to visit her grandfather, Pops. Pops had just pulled into his driveway with his horse trailer hooked onto his white pick-up truck. Liz had something in mind: she wanted to see what Pops was bringing to the farm.
As she walked along the short distance from her house to his barn, Liz hummed a little song. She sang out loud, listening to the birds twittering nearby, and trying to copy their songs. She listened some more. She tried again. Those birds sang so sweetly, with such a trill, that it was hard for her to mimic them. After a while, Liz just sang her favorite tune to herself.
Pops had mentioned that one of his mares, Razzle Dazzle, had given birth to a filly last week. Maybe that mare was in his trailer. If she was, the little filly would be there, too. She sure hoped this was why Pops had turned so slowly into his driveway. Maybe she would meet a new friend today.
Liz loved talking to Pops’ mares. She often climbed up the gates and peered into the horse lots to see them. Usually, the mares would walk right over to see her. She knew they were probably interested in the apples hidden in her pockets.


Sometimes the mares came over for a visit. They stood still and allowed Liz to rub their heads. She talked as she rubbed them. Maybe her words were just chit-chat; that’s what Pops said. Nevertheless, Liz really believed those mares knew what she was saying.
Maybe Pops thought her chatter was just girl talk. Liz didn’t think about it much. She just talked to those horses. She asked them about their days. She pulled a handful of grass and fed it to them. She asked them if they wanted more. She asked them how they were feeling. Mostly she just rubbed their heads and hummed and cooed to them.
Today, she walked and sang. Then she began skipping. As she got closer, she became more excited. At the very last, she broke into a little run. Finally, at the barn, she saw that Pops had backed his trailer up to the barn door and was beginning to let down the trailer tailgate. She was just in time! Very soon, the mystery would be solved.
As Pops had told her to do many times before, Liz walked down the barn aisle and stood very quietly by the feed bin. Soon Pops had the trailer gate down and the guards removed. He brought out a very tall mare. Yes! It was Razzle Dazzle! And behind trailed a tiny miniature of her mother. The new baby filly had arrived!
Pops led Razzle Dazzle to the end stall, in the corner of the barn. The little filly followed her mother inside. Liz pulled up a stool to the feed window of the stall, climbed up, and watched what would happen next.
The baby stood with legs spread apart at the back of her mother’s legs. She pushed her head right into a soft, bulging bag of milk and began sucking with loud smacking sounds. She slurped and smacked for what seemed like a long time. As she drank, her mother nickered, turned her head back and down, and licked her baby’s soft brown hair.
Soon the baby lifted her head, leaned against her mother, and began to lie down. After the long trip in the trailer, she was tired. Razzle Dazzle stood over her and gazed at the baby in the corner of the stall. Razzle looked tired, too. Now they were home.
Liz peppered Pops with questions. How strong was the baby now? What was Pops going to name her? Could she help Pops and Grams when they walked the mother and her colt around the barnlot?
The next day, Liz joined Pops and Grams at the barn. She smiled a big smile and waited for her instructions. Pops finally spoke, exciting Liz with his comment: “Liz, Grams will lead Razzle Dazzle, and I will lead the baby. You can walk behind me because the baby will follow close to her mother. Grams has handled Razzle Dazzle before, and, believe me, that mare can be a problem. You never know what she will do.”
Liz watched as Grams led Razzle Dazzle out of the barn stall, and the frisky filly following her at her side. Pops stumbled out behind the two. Around the barn they went, with Razzle Dazzle watching her filly and the filly bumbling along behind her. Liz happily followed them all.
A few days later, Pops had Grams lead the mare and baby across the barnlot and onto the track. Once there, Grams led the long parade around the half-mile track: Grams leading Razzle Dazzle, the filly prancing along beside her, with Pops holding the long lead shank keeping up with the filly, and Liz happily chatting with Pops as they circled the track. When they had finished the round, they led the horses into the long lot across from the barn, where Razzle Dazzle and her foal had lived since that first night Liz saw them in the stall.
Liz wondered all week long what Pops would name this lively little filly. He seemed in no hurry to find the right name. For now, she was the “little filly” with a rambunctious mother.
After several days, when Liz arrived in the barnlot, she found Pops in the long lot yelling at Razzle Dazzle, “Get up! Get up!”
Liz climbed up the gate and watched. Razzle Dazzle was on her back kicking into the air and rolling back and forth violently. No matter what Pops said or did, Razzle just continued to roll and kick. Her little filly ran wildly around the lot, watching as her mother writhed in pain.