| Featured
Article - November 2002
In
The Shadow of Equus A
Colt for a Broodmule | ||
|
"We see over 100,000 equines a year. We treat them for wounds, saddle sores, and foot problems. Generally speaking, equines in the towns and cities work under terrible conditions. Tiny donkeys pull taxis full of people or they carry unbearably heavy loads from the brick kilns." As I talked on the phone with Dr. Gigi Kay in Harhoura, Morocco, she recalled the heartbreaking scenes on the streets of towns and cities throughout the country. Dr. Kay is a veterinarian with the Society for the Protection of Animals Abroad (SPANA). The charity, headquartered in London, England, works in North African and Middle Eastern countries, dedicating its services to providing free veterinary care to working animals and education to their owners and school children. But there are still thousands of people who see equines as nothing more than highly dispensable vehicles. Life, for millions of horses, donkeys and mules, is brutally tough. So when Dr. Kay heard that a mule had given birth to a little colt on August 28, 2002, in a remote hamlet in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains, her astonishment quickly gave way to concern as she dared to contemplate its future. She knew that animals in the country generally fared better than equines working in the towns. But in a cultural double-edged sword, she also knew that among the Berber people who clung to tribal ways the event was a religious sign, a harbinger of doom. She wasted no time traveling to the tiny hamlet of three poor farms in the region of Oulmes, 80 km south of the ancient city of Fes. The news was of major scientific importance. In the past 25 years, this was only the third recorded birth worldwide. A birth had occurred in Morocco in 1984 and another had been witnessed in China in 1988. A press report from Albania in 1994 documented a mule having a miscarriage. Since 1527, when records apparently began on mule pregnancies, there have only been 60 cases of mules giving birth. According to the British Mule Society, mule fertility is historically so rare that the Romans had a saying 'Cum mula peperit' meaning 'when a mule foals', or in contemporary vein, 'once in a blue moon'. To Dr. Kay, this was that 'blue moon' occasion. In her modest, square, mud brick home set in a bare, open landscape, 'Lalla' was ashamed. She had no idea that her 14-year-old mule had been pregnant. The day before, she had ridden the mule 20 km to the souk, the weekly market where she had sold prickly pears and bought a few supplies such as rice, salt and mint for her tea. Her mule, fit and hard from daily work on the tiny farm and from being constantly ridden, had concealed her pregnancy well. Her pretty grey coat flecked and splattered with chestnut markings belied a swelling abdomen that some may have thought was just a mule getting fat. And, since it was not Lalla's custom to groom her animal, she would not have had occasion to see any changes in the milk bag as it prepared for the colt's arrival. Life was meagre and challenging enough and the tough 60-year-old tribal woman feared that she had brought greater challenges to her village. She frowned, her mouth set and her chin, tattooed according to custom, was tense as she made her decision to hide her mule and its colt in a hot, unventilated shed. As much as she feared the Berber prophecy, she valued her mule more. Without her, she would not be able to farm, harvest fruits or travel to the souk with goods to sell and purchases to bring home. |
A mule, as a hybrid of a horse (with 64 chromosomes, 32 pairs) and a donkey (62 chromosomes, 31 pairs), is sterile. Mules have 63 chromosomes so they cannot divide evenly. But it is not just a numbers game. The actual structure of the chromosomes in horses and donkeys is different so the two are unable to pair up properly, rendering the mule infertile. But on extremely rare occasions, a mule like Lalla's will surprise everyone. On her way to the hamlet, Dr. Kay saw others on the road. She remembered passing a man on an attractive horse. He was dressed in his finest and carriedhis rifle. She realized the travelers were all going to see the mule. Word of the birth had leaked out. Curiosity overwhelmed other villagers and neighbouring friends. They came on foot, on mule, on donkey, and on horseback. They wanted to see the miracle mule and her little colt. And they came bearing gifts for Lalla and her celebrated animals. The more they marvelled at the dark fluffy colt with the black and white face and big ears, the faster the word of his birth spread. "When Lalla realised everyone was coming to visit her, she was ecstatic," Dr. Kay chuckled. "She brought the mule and colt out of the shed. The mule was in very good shape. She had a good milk bag. On our conditioning ratio scale from 0-9, she scored a 6." The colt was exquisite. Dark with a face that was half-white, he was sort of like a donkey and a bit like a mule but not quite either. Dr. Kay drew blood for DNA analysis to determine whether the sire was a horse or a donkey. The happy story of the mule and her colt was a ray of sunshine in the otherwise challenging work carried out by Dr. Kay and her SPANA associates in Morocco. They operate ten refuges where animals are treated or hospitalized and ten mobile clinics go out from these centres to souks around the country providing services such as dewormings, hoof and wound treatments, and dentistry. SPANA, founded in 1923, operates not only in Morocco but also Tunisia, Algeria, Mali, Jordan and Syria providing vital care to working, domestic and feral animals and education to animal owners and their children. Lalla's fortune came to her that night when her mule gave her another, a future animal to rely on. And with the blessing came the recognition and generosity of villagers and neighbours. Far from the event being a harbinger of doom, it was a day of happiness, a rare moment in a blue moon for a broodmule and her little colt. For more information on SPANA, their work and how you can help, please visit their website at www.spana.org. Email: hq@spana.org. Or write to them at: SPANA, 14 John Street, London, England, WC1N 2EB. (Photos courtesy of SPANA.) Read Margaret Evans' column "In The Shadow Of Equus" each month in The Pacific & Prairie Horse Journal |
|