With only about a week to go until the birth I have to admit I am getting pretty stressed out. Despite desperately trying to block out all the what-ifs I have nightmares about foals that get stuck the wrong way around, won’t eat or just come out dead altogether.
Last year when we decided to actually cover Bellis we were already writing June so things had to happen pretty quickly. Two days after I had worked out an agreement with the owner the mare came into season. So I had about 24 hours to organize a horse trailer, a car that could pull a horse trailer, someone with a license to drive a car with a horse trailer, a vet appointment, a container to transport semen and most importantly the actual semen. So I dropped everything else and threw myself around making phone calls and cashing in favours left right and centre.
My scheduled dinner appointment the next day just said: “Really Hilly, if I didn’t know you so well I would have thought I had been stood up for the worst excuse ever. But since it’s you I am sure you are actually going to pick up some semen, so that’s fine.” Apparently it was story of the week in that office.
And I was going to pick up semen. After having found a container with liquid nitrogen I could rent at the veterinary college I got another friend to drive the mare to the vets for me before I got in the car and drove south to pick up the stuff. At this point it was well past midnight but I managed to find the estate after a few consultations with the wife on the phone. Even in the semi dark it was one of the most impressive places I have ever seen. Not the stables as such, but just the main house and the land. They even had fields down to the fjord and in the light summer night it was just beautiful.
Gustav and Lise acted like we were old friends and didn’t seem to mind at all that it was past midnight. They gave me a guided tour of the property and even took me down the field to have a look at their own Lauries Crusader foal. According to my new best friend Gustav, Lauries Crusader offspring were the hottest of the hot at the moment and he was terribly proud. About one o’clock we sat down on the terrace and gossiped about mutual friends and acquaintances before I was handed the little red sticks that was hopefully half the genes for my future dressage horse. With the little frozen swimmers safely placed in the container I started the drive back home, praying that the egg had not moved too far yet.
Unfortunately the little swimmers didn’t pull it off in the end, but then I would probably not have performed that well either after spending a few weeks in liquid nitrogen. Or maybe the egg had gone too far. It is impossible to say, but with frozen semen the timing is so important you can’t really expect it to go right on the first attempt anyway.
So I started the preparations for the next attempt. At work they just looked at me as I threw everything into my handbag and ran out saying; “The egg is moving, I have to pick up some more semen.”
No one seemed to have noticed that over the last few days half my phone calls had involved words like artificial insemination, semen and ovulation. But then again the guys at work understood far less Norwegian than I actually did Sinhalese.
So I launched the whole operation again. Got the mare to the vets and then made another journey to picked up extra semen down south. Gustav and Lise were away on holiday but were perfectly happy to have me pop by and take with me their whole container with thousands of Kroner worth of semen. Afraid something might happen to it I kept the container next to my bed over night. It was the first time I have slept next to that much quality semen, that’s for sure.
Early the next morning I drove it to the vet and this time we took no chances and used one dosage on each egg. That did the trick. Waiting for the verdict a month later I was shaking more than the mare when the vet put her arm up her backside to see if there was anything there. Apparently I was rather pale when she gave me the verdict.
“Congratulations, she’s in foal!”
So getting closer and closer to the big day now it almost feels like I’m having a baby myself. Well, apart from the obvious fact that I’m not about to give birth to a horse, but after all it is all my doing. And there is of course a fair amount of money involved. I would never dream of spend that kind of money on semen for me. Or hopefully I won’t have to anyway.
The thing is though, breeding is serious business. There really should be some sort of authorization for people too. The way it is now we breed from just about anything, so no wonder things get a bit out of hand at times.
The main trouble with humans is that it is all very much hit and miss. There is no real way of knowing if you are breeding from a potential super stud or a complete nag. At least with the horses you can easily find information about how other progeny are performing and how well your chosen stud has bred. With humans you just don’t know unless they happen to have plenty of offspring already. And chances are you would want to give someone with proven progeny all over the country a miss anyway.
Because there are no real guarantees that a quality stallion, or man, will breed well. Yes, the chances are better, but you can still end up with an underachiever or even a complete freak. In the case of a horse at least you can sell it, unfortunately according to the law, the same does not apply to children.
My sister once said “If ever I have children and they turn into Goths, I will most certainly give them away!” I could not agree more.
As for how to avoid the Goth genes my only advice would be stay clear of men with long black hair and dark alternative taste in music. Other than that: Good Luck! Personally I am sticking to horse breeding at the moment and my chosen stallion has bred very well indeed.
Last year when we decided to actually cover Bellis we were already writing June so things had to happen pretty quickly. Two days after I had worked out an agreement with the owner the mare came into season. So I had about 24 hours to organize a horse trailer, a car that could pull a horse trailer, someone with a license to drive a car with a horse trailer, a vet appointment, a container to transport semen and most importantly the actual semen. So I dropped everything else and threw myself around making phone calls and cashing in favours left right and centre.
My scheduled dinner appointment the next day just said: “Really Hilly, if I didn’t know you so well I would have thought I had been stood up for the worst excuse ever. But since it’s you I am sure you are actually going to pick up some semen, so that’s fine.” Apparently it was story of the week in that office.
And I was going to pick up semen. After having found a container with liquid nitrogen I could rent at the veterinary college I got another friend to drive the mare to the vets for me before I got in the car and drove south to pick up the stuff. At this point it was well past midnight but I managed to find the estate after a few consultations with the wife on the phone. Even in the semi dark it was one of the most impressive places I have ever seen. Not the stables as such, but just the main house and the land. They even had fields down to the fjord and in the light summer night it was just beautiful.
Gustav and Lise acted like we were old friends and didn’t seem to mind at all that it was past midnight. They gave me a guided tour of the property and even took me down the field to have a look at their own Lauries Crusader foal. According to my new best friend Gustav, Lauries Crusader offspring were the hottest of the hot at the moment and he was terribly proud. About one o’clock we sat down on the terrace and gossiped about mutual friends and acquaintances before I was handed the little red sticks that was hopefully half the genes for my future dressage horse. With the little frozen swimmers safely placed in the container I started the drive back home, praying that the egg had not moved too far yet.
Unfortunately the little swimmers didn’t pull it off in the end, but then I would probably not have performed that well either after spending a few weeks in liquid nitrogen. Or maybe the egg had gone too far. It is impossible to say, but with frozen semen the timing is so important you can’t really expect it to go right on the first attempt anyway.
So I started the preparations for the next attempt. At work they just looked at me as I threw everything into my handbag and ran out saying; “The egg is moving, I have to pick up some more semen.”
No one seemed to have noticed that over the last few days half my phone calls had involved words like artificial insemination, semen and ovulation. But then again the guys at work understood far less Norwegian than I actually did Sinhalese.
So I launched the whole operation again. Got the mare to the vets and then made another journey to picked up extra semen down south. Gustav and Lise were away on holiday but were perfectly happy to have me pop by and take with me their whole container with thousands of Kroner worth of semen. Afraid something might happen to it I kept the container next to my bed over night. It was the first time I have slept next to that much quality semen, that’s for sure.
Early the next morning I drove it to the vet and this time we took no chances and used one dosage on each egg. That did the trick. Waiting for the verdict a month later I was shaking more than the mare when the vet put her arm up her backside to see if there was anything there. Apparently I was rather pale when she gave me the verdict.
“Congratulations, she’s in foal!”
So getting closer and closer to the big day now it almost feels like I’m having a baby myself. Well, apart from the obvious fact that I’m not about to give birth to a horse, but after all it is all my doing. And there is of course a fair amount of money involved. I would never dream of spend that kind of money on semen for me. Or hopefully I won’t have to anyway.
The thing is though, breeding is serious business. There really should be some sort of authorization for people too. The way it is now we breed from just about anything, so no wonder things get a bit out of hand at times.
The main trouble with humans is that it is all very much hit and miss. There is no real way of knowing if you are breeding from a potential super stud or a complete nag. At least with the horses you can easily find information about how other progeny are performing and how well your chosen stud has bred. With humans you just don’t know unless they happen to have plenty of offspring already. And chances are you would want to give someone with proven progeny all over the country a miss anyway.
Because there are no real guarantees that a quality stallion, or man, will breed well. Yes, the chances are better, but you can still end up with an underachiever or even a complete freak. In the case of a horse at least you can sell it, unfortunately according to the law, the same does not apply to children.
My sister once said “If ever I have children and they turn into Goths, I will most certainly give them away!” I could not agree more.
As for how to avoid the Goth genes my only advice would be stay clear of men with long black hair and dark alternative taste in music. Other than that: Good Luck! Personally I am sticking to horse breeding at the moment and my chosen stallion has bred very well indeed.
No comments:
Post a Comment