Waiting For Rain
The school bus grinds to a halt. Clouds of dust billow around Ellie's feet as she jumps down to begin the long, hot walk to the farm. She stops by the mare's paddock. There is only one sheltered spot to stand, in the shade cast by the remaining tree. Ellie counts the mares, which stand head to tail alongside one another, swishing flies gently from each other's faces.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven....all still there." Ellie sighs to herself. No more have been moved to the foaling paddock. Two foals born from 23 mares isn't many at this time of the season.
"It's like they're holding on till it rains," her dad had said. "And we aren't the only ones. It's happening at other farms too, big and small." He spoke as if that should give them some comfort.
Ellie walks on past the dam. The water level is dropping daily as the unrelenting sun continues to draw it skyward. Past the creek, where the lush line of willows used to stand. Parched and brown, they now stand like skeletons along its bank. The creek dried up a year ago.
When she reaches the stables, Ellie stops to visit a foal recovering from the rattles, a disease caused from breathing in dust. The foal's mother walks to Ellie's outstretched hand, always ready for the apple that she produces from her schoolbag.
Next, Ellie helps her parents feed up, and watches as her mother checks a couple of mares that should have foaled days ago. She pats a velvety nose and blows gently across a nostril, then scratches behind the mare's ears as the animal dips her head in silent thanks.
After tea, Ellie and her dad check the Bureau of Meteorology sites rainfall map. Nothing. Then Ellie goes to bed and drifts off to sleep to the sound of her parents talking quietly. She catches the words "buying water" before she dreams of the creek running again, the willows beside it, green and strong.
Towards dawn, she is woken by the sound of a mare's electronic alarm and bolts out of bed, pulling on her boots. Both of her parents are already in the foaling paddock.
"I guess she couldn't wait any longer," Mum says, as Ellie squeezes through the fence to join her Dad at the mare's head. Ellie takes the lead from his hands and he tousles her hair before joining Mum at the rear of the mare. The mare is snorting softly and pawing the ground.
The mare's legs slowly fold as she eases down onto the ground. Soft groaning noises pierce the the stillness of the dawn.
"It's OK, girl," Ellie murmurs.
"I can see two hooves, Ellie!" Mum exclaims. She and Ellie's father gently coax the foal to be born.
The foal slips silently onto the ground. The mare turns her head and nickers to it, and Ellie sighs with relief. She looks up into the dark sky and feels the soft rain trickling down her smiling face.
© Sharon McGuinness, 2007
This story was originally published in the October, 2008 'Countdown' issue of the NSW School Magazine.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven....all still there." Ellie sighs to herself. No more have been moved to the foaling paddock. Two foals born from 23 mares isn't many at this time of the season.
"It's like they're holding on till it rains," her dad had said. "And we aren't the only ones. It's happening at other farms too, big and small." He spoke as if that should give them some comfort.
Ellie walks on past the dam. The water level is dropping daily as the unrelenting sun continues to draw it skyward. Past the creek, where the lush line of willows used to stand. Parched and brown, they now stand like skeletons along its bank. The creek dried up a year ago.
When she reaches the stables, Ellie stops to visit a foal recovering from the rattles, a disease caused from breathing in dust. The foal's mother walks to Ellie's outstretched hand, always ready for the apple that she produces from her schoolbag.
Next, Ellie helps her parents feed up, and watches as her mother checks a couple of mares that should have foaled days ago. She pats a velvety nose and blows gently across a nostril, then scratches behind the mare's ears as the animal dips her head in silent thanks.
After tea, Ellie and her dad check the Bureau of Meteorology sites rainfall map. Nothing. Then Ellie goes to bed and drifts off to sleep to the sound of her parents talking quietly. She catches the words "buying water" before she dreams of the creek running again, the willows beside it, green and strong.
Towards dawn, she is woken by the sound of a mare's electronic alarm and bolts out of bed, pulling on her boots. Both of her parents are already in the foaling paddock.
"I guess she couldn't wait any longer," Mum says, as Ellie squeezes through the fence to join her Dad at the mare's head. Ellie takes the lead from his hands and he tousles her hair before joining Mum at the rear of the mare. The mare is snorting softly and pawing the ground.
The mare's legs slowly fold as she eases down onto the ground. Soft groaning noises pierce the the stillness of the dawn.
"It's OK, girl," Ellie murmurs.
"I can see two hooves, Ellie!" Mum exclaims. She and Ellie's father gently coax the foal to be born.
The foal slips silently onto the ground. The mare turns her head and nickers to it, and Ellie sighs with relief. She looks up into the dark sky and feels the soft rain trickling down her smiling face.
© Sharon McGuinness, 2007
This story was originally published in the October, 2008 'Countdown' issue of the NSW School Magazine.