Most of my friends know my Tennessee Walking Horse, Mallory, gave birth to a healthy filly on Thursday, July 13. Mallory is 15 years old, This is her first foal. Mine, too.
Although I had been watching Mallory carefully, the birth caught me off guard. I didn’t think it was imminent. Never mind that she was five weeks overdue. She hadn’t been leaking milk, nor had her teats waxed over. Both are signs that the birth will be within 48 hours. Imagine my surprise when I walked to the barn that morning.
Major, one of my dogs, ran ahead of me. When I got to the back, he was lying on the ground facing the barn, barking at something. That’s unusual. He doesn’t normally bark at Mallory. By the time that thought had registered, I saw Mallory. A split second later, it was, ‘Well, hello there, little one!”
That was at 7:30 a.m. She couldn’t have been more than an hour or two old. She was still having trouble standing. Her legs are long and spindly. She doesn’t look anything like her mother. Mallory is black, with a white snip on her forehead. The filly is a very light reddish brown (sorrel?), like her errant father. She has an unusual white blaze across her forehead. Her mane is the same color as her coat, and her tail is red on top but flaxen underneath. She flicks it like a deer. She’s wearing a white stocking on her right rear leg.
I began handling her immediately. It has paid off. She’s friendly, coming right up to me when I go to the barn. She enjoys a head or body rub and having her tummy scratched. It’s getting easier every day to put a halter on her. She doesn’t mind my touching her ears any more. I can pick up her feet, too.
Problem was, I couldn’t come up with a name. I had been hoping for a black colt that I could name, “Paladin.” It’s from that 1950s TV show, “Have Gun, Will Travel.” l would have called him, “Pal.”
Alas, Paladin wasn’t in the cards.
I had not settled on a girl’s name. I had several in my head and on my list. I liked “Cheyenne,” another old TV western, but what would I call her? Annie? Nope. Still another western came to mind, “Sugarfoot.” Hmm. Could call her Sugar.
Had she been born on July 4th, I would have named her Independence and called her Indy. My oldest grandson favored that one. I also liked Firecracker. I tried Indy and Cracker on her. Neither seemed quite right.
Facebook friends offered a dozen suggestions, but none suited her.
I decided to give her a few days to see whether something would pop up.
Luna it is.
Welcome to the world, Luna. We’re going to have lots of fun together.