At a recent visit to the Millstone farmstall in Oude Molen eco-village, we noticed that there were a lot of foals that must have been born in the last month.
All gangly limbs and flappy tails, they have the softest noses and the bushiest manes. I could watch them for hours, because they are so entertaining.
This one had flopped down in the dust, in the scorching midday heat under a baking sun – why didn’t he take five steps to the right into the shade?
This young chestnut foal acted all shy and trembly, hiding behind mommy who put her ears back and glared at me as though I was about to steal her littl’un, and then the next moment he strode confidently towards me, reaching his short little neck through the fence to nibble at my fingers.
A slightly older youngster, dark brown with hundreds of white speckles (what on earth do you call that colour?) was leaning against a tree, swaying forward and backward, scratching himself. When he couldn’t get rid of the itching that way, he tried the fence, climbing halfway through it and rubbing his withers back and forth against the top pole. His eyes glazed over and he shivered with pleasure – he had obviously found the right spot! Isn’t he beautiful?