Horse Stories (Miniature Horses, that is)

Two of my dad's miniature horses were going to give birth this year. Here is one of them, Wendy, with her new foal Blossom. The other horse, Shawnee, is getting very large, but hasn't foaled yet. Two years ago she gave birth to a little colt, Comanche. The father is named Apache.

Wendy (or is it Windy? I'm not sure!) has a two-year-old daughter, Sweetpea. As you can see, there's sort of a system to the names. The other equines of my dad's are Shawnee's first daughter, Sassy, who is a mule (she's a little larger than Shawnee, who is on the large side for a miniature), and Rusty, who has never had a foal for all we know. There used to be another mare, Shasta Belle, but she disappeared a year or so ago, and it was assumed she had gone off and died in some inaccessible part of the 60+ acre place.

Here's a picture of mother and both daughters. The foal is about three days old in this picture, from April of this year. We had a scare with Sweetpea. Not long ago, something injured the mare Rusty. She had been staying to herself, to avoid being bothered by the stallions, away from the group. The vet said that it could have been a big cat, or maybe a pack of dogs -- not very likely to be a coyote (although I guess a pack of coyote-dog hybrids might be possible). Dad had been treating her wounds each day as instructed by the vet, and keeping her penned up. Then—as she was pretty much healed up—he let her and the younger stallion out together in one pasture, and had the other seven equines in the other pasture.

Next, Sweetpea started separating herself from the group, and then disappeared for a few days. When Dad and Peggy went to look for her, they found her remains — about enough to fill a shoebox. No rib cage, no skull, just some legs and hooves, a jaw and some teeth. The remains looked fresh, because the leg bones were still connected with tissue (tendons or ligaments).

Now a few years ago, when the place was being fenced, the guys putting up the fence showed my father some big cat tracks, too large for a bobcat. After consultation with a retired game warden and talking with neighbors about some other domestic animal killings, it looked like it must have been a panther that got her. No coyotes or dogs had been observed (by sight or sound), and the moving of the carcasses seemed like a cat. Also, a bobcat is too small to take down even a miniature horse.

Then Sweetpea showed up with the Rusty and Comanche, that is, in a different pasture than the one Dad put her in. She had some scrapes, although whether they were caused by the stallions or a predator or even by going through the fence, who can tell? So what were the remains? They must have been the long-missing Shasta Belle. The question still stands, though: Is there a big cat ranging out there west of Springtown, near Indian Knob?