Foal Moon
For the first time since sugar season had begun, the whole family was working together again. Red Maple was at the evaporator, finishing the syrup. As each batch reached the proper concentration, he drained it into a pipe that directed it to a press filter which Sugar Bush worked. Maple Leaf helped Red on the boiler, while Winter was in charge of bottling the finished syrup.
The process was a little uncoordinated at first, but things quickly smoothed out as everypony got accustomed to the routine.
For lunch, Sugar made fresh bread, cooked right in the firebox.
After everypony else had finished eating, Red got out the ladle and dipped it into the finishing tank. “I reckon we’ve all earned this.”
He carefully carried it out to the north side of the saphouse, and drizzled it on the last shadowed patches of snow, where it almost immediately cooled into a taffy.
Maple Leaf grabbed the first piece, and chewed on it eagerly. The very center was still warm. “Sugar on snow’s the best part of syrup-making,” he decided.
“Even after you had to do all that work to get just a little bit?” Winter Berry asked.
“Yeah.” He glanced back at the saphouse. “It’s good when it’s in a bottle, but it’s not this good.”
Red and Sugar stayed back, watching their foals. “Makes you feel young again, doesn’t it?” she said brightly.
“Hmm.” He nuzzled her neck. “I reckon it does, just a bit.”
“You was thinking about sticking your own muzzle in the snow and eating some, too. Maple, don’t hog it all. Let your Dad have some.”
“You, too,” Red Maple said. “You ain’t eating enough. That’ll keep your strength up.”
Maple Leaf took the ladle from his father. “I’ll get some more,” he offered, and went back into the saphouse.
• • •
“How many more cans do we have to finish?” Winter Berry asked. “‘Cause we’re down to the last two shelves of bottles.”
“Fifteen,” Maple said. “I counted them when I brought the last one in.”
“That’s not going to be enough bottles.”
“When we run out, we can use canning jars,” Sugar Bush suggested.
“Should I go get them?”
“Are we going to stay up all night making syrup?”
Red Maple shrugged. “The fire’s hot, and it wouldn’t be the first time.” Then he glanced over at Sugar. “I reckon you ought to get some sleep, though. Me and the foals can handle it in here.”
“I think—” Sugar winced and put a hoof to her belly. “Ooh, that's a big one.”
“Are you. . . .” Red glanced for a moment at the boiler, still busily reducing sap.
“I—yes.”
“We're—okay. Okay. Maple, take the lantern. Go to Bar Berry. You know where she lives, right?”
He nodded soberly.
“Go. Go now.” Red turned to Winter. “Water. Get a pail, I'll put it in with the syrup. Then some straw. Over in that corner. Then blankets.”
“Got it.” She grabbed one of the empty sap buckets and galloped out to the well.
“You don't have to fuss, dear. Just attend to the syrup.”
“I don't—”
“I've done this before.” Sugar winced as another contraction seized her.
“How long have you been feeling the contractions?”
“Since lunch,” she admitted. “I thought that I could wait until we were done.”
“You shoulda said something.”
Winter Berry came charging back into the shack with a full bucket in her mouth and a blast of cold wind behind her. She glanced over at her mother, who had already stretched out on the floor.
Red took the bucket and lowered it into the evaporator. “Don't pay her no mind. Straw, hay. Now.”
“Where—”
“There's a couple bales—oof—by the garden, for the carrots.”
“Then blankets.”
“Got it.” Winter rushed back out of the saphouse.
“I don't think she's ready.”
“She'll have to be. Unless Bar Berry makes it in time.” Red twisted the paddle through the syrup and then swore under his breath as it started to foam up. “Ought to just dump this batch, and—over in that corner, Winter. It’s got the most space, and the least draft.”
Winter nodded and hastily laid down a bed of straw, covering it with the sheet they’d been using to keep the dust off the empty syrup bottles.
She helped her mother to the makeshift bed, then galloped out the door to get blankets.
“It's not going to be too much longer.”
“If you hadn't been working out in the forest. Hauling buckets, and—what was I thinking?”
“Foals come when they come,” she said, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath. “And the three of you woulda been run ragged, trying to carry my weight too.”
“Ain't what I wanted, I coulda—you don't deserve this. You deserve better.”
“This is what I want.” She put her hoof down and grunted, a deep, animalistic sound.
“Winter!” Red Maple bellowed through the door. “Hurry!”
She came skidding back into the saphouse, blankets draped over her back, and hurried over to her mother's side.
She rolled one up and put it under Sugar's head, covered her with another, and then got the bucket of water out of the boiler. She winced at the hot bail in her lips, but said nothing.
“Wish I'd thought to wrap my tail,” Sugar Bush muttered.
“I can—” Winter Berry's voice trailed off. “That's . . . eww. I'm never having a foal.”
“How far along is it?”
“Just, um?” She tried to look without seeing too much, which was of course impossible. “Legs and I think a muzzle?”
“How do you feel?”
“Just—huff—fine.”
“As soon as the caul tears, it might start breathing, or trying to,” Red Maple said. “Make sure its nostrils are clear.”
“Okay.”
“And you might have to pull, if—”
“Nopony's gonna pull a . . . foal out of me. I . . . can finish . . . the job myself.”
There was nothing he knew how to do that would help, so Red Maple fell silent and focused his energy back on the syrup, keeping one ear cocked towards the door and the other to his wife.
“You’re doing good, Mom.” Winter said. “Its head’s all the way out, now.”
• • •
Maple Leaf and Bar Berry arrived just in time to see the newborn foal take its first breath.
“It’s a filly,” Winter Berry announced. “I think.”
“Nuh-uh, it’s a colt,” Maple insisted. “Look.”
“That’s the umbilical cord,” Bar Berry said dryly. “Winter, I’ve got linen cloths in my saddlebags. Can you dry her off and wrap her up? It’s probably too cold for her down on the floor. Sugar, how are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. Just gotta rest a bit, okay?” She dropped her head back to the blanket. “She fought like a colt. She’s gonna be a strong one.”
“I’ve got some chamomile.” Bar Berry reached into her saddlebags. “Do you feel up to chewing some to help relax you?”
“Please.”
Red looked to his son. “Maple, you were paying attention to how the drain and filter works, right?”
He nodded.
“Take and empty the final tank and run it through the filters, then bottle it.”
Red turned and went outside, a ladle in his teeth. Down at the bottom of the transfer tank was a small pool of sap that the pump couldn’t reach, and he dipped the ladle in it.
He sat on his haunches in front of his new daughter, now wrapped up in a blanket.
She studied him with her big amber eyes as he brought the sap up to her lips.
He carefully tipped it, bringing a few drops to the edge. She pressed forward, then jerked back as the cold metal touched her muzzle.
“Just one little sip.”
She bravely leaned forward, and licked a drop off the edge.
“That's my girl.” Red Maple blew against her brushy forelock. “Now you've got the sap in your blood, too.” He lifted her carefully and set her against Sugar Bush's belly.
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great stuff now finish the other one you Midwestern wrench monkey!!
and i mean that in the highest regard.
That was really sweet! I like how you used the prompt literally. 'Twas a great way to introduce some fun OCs. Nice job!
So did you make your own maple syrup to research for this story?
You know, any time there's a pregnant character, they'll deliver by the end of the story.
Heh. Two years ago I started tapping the trees on my property, and boiling down the syrup in my kitchen. (It's not much.. Maybe a gallon each year.) This year looks like it would be great for sap, but I just don't have the time to spend on it. And now here you are, writing a story about making maple syrup...
And reminding me just how much damned WORK it is!
That was a cute story
8773815
He brought up the possibility a week or few back, and I
egged him onencouraged the experimental pursuit of empirical knowledge. No word yet on whether he actually tried it or how well it went.8774351
I must admit, that was a concern I had when I first went through the story – it may be a justified cliché, but that doesn't make it any less overdone. Ultimately, I decided not to worry about it for a few reasons:
1. It's going to show up sooner or later, so that may as well be in a story where it is justified. Since a story about syrup-making has to take place around the same time as birthing season, it's easier for the reader to accept than simple coincidence.
2. I think the ending is the right kind of sappy to make it work.
3. It provides a more obvious tie-in to the contest prompt than the literal take on "family trees", which would be helpful if any of the judges miss the less-conventional interpretation and adds potential Fridge Brilliance fuel for readers who spot connections between the two.
And of course:
4. Given the contest deadline, compounding the time crunch by rewriting another whole section would probably have been less than prudent.
8773736
Thanks!
Which other one, A Gift from Celestia or OPP?
8773753
Thanks!
Fun fact, I actually had this story partially written last year, and it just happened to fit the plot quite nicely.
8773815
I did not, unfortunately. Just didn't have enough time.
8774351
Well, yeah, that's pretty much a given.
Now I have to figure out how to turn that on its head for a comedy.
8774826
I think it's being a good year in Michigan. Actually, yesterday, I went to a baby shower, and the church was right next to a sugar bush.
Got me to thinking that if I had one, and I was tapping trees that were right next to the road, I'd tap a telephone pole, too, just to confuse people.
A lot of work to get not very much sap, it's true. Even with Earth Pony Magic (TM), the family's still got to work hard to get a good harvest.
8774840
Thanks!
8775132
I did not. Didn't have time, and with my gardening skills, I'd probably have tapped the only maple tree in Michigan that has poison sap. I did dilute some maple sugar in water to get an idea how much sweetness there'd be, though.
Yeah, it's a little bit early in the year for horses, but not much. Being in artificial light a lot messes up horses' cycles, which would be the reason I'd give if anybody complained.
Even if you'd suggested it, I wouldn't have made that change. That's been in the story for nearly a year.
8775232
OPP or i drive out there and hide all the 10mm sockets
in a respectful manner
Another one for my favorite list Biscuit.
8775232
A Gift From Celestia, of course! I'm going to need to refresher-reread the entire set of Pony Planet stories before helping with the next chapter of Onto The Pony Planet, and no matter how appealing that sounds, trying to make time for it in the next few weeks might be a bit of a challenge. Fitting in the much shorter story that's been languishing way longer sounds a lot more doable.
By the way, do you have any tips on avoiding angry torch-and-pitchfork mobs? I'm asking for a friend.
8775245
I think, most people wouldn't even notice (staring at their mobile), but those who do, would be like "
WTF???????" 
8775262
8775421
Thanks! Glad you liked it.
8776074
Unfortunately, I've got the next chapter of OPP partially finished. (well, not unfortunately for everyone . . . )
Ooh, running fast and/or hiding are the best options, really. The good news is that torch mobs usually only happen at night, so when you see the flickering torchlight and maybe hear a bit of angry shouting, you've got a bit of time to run.
8776092
Yeah, I think a lot of people wouldn't see it at all, but for those who did, it would be totally worth the effort of doing it.
8777808
It would be funny to watch the passerbys. How many would do a closer inspection?
The foalbirth scene was though to read, I was always forced to take a pause to try to understand who was speaking.
What nice story, reminds me of frontier families in the 1840s for some reason.
8778529
Probably not all that many, to be honest. Lots of people are oblivious. . . .
8781644
My headcanon puts ponies at mostly late 1860s tech, so you're not far off the mark.
8779076
Hmm. I tried to be sparse with the dialogue tags, just 'cause I didn't want to spoil the flow, but maybe I was too sparse with them.
8784265 Now I kind of wish Silver had had a chance to read Laura Ingalls Wilder.
A fascinating blend of family cuteness; fascinating historical syrup refining, and a bit of wholesome, character-building mild childhood trauma for Winter Berry.
Thank you for a story that was sweet, but ironically not syrupy so.
8784871
A lot of it would have been just like home for her, I think.
8785544
Poor Winter Berry. Still, now she's got a cute little sister to play with.
You're welcome!
The day in the life of
This was.. what the word... damn it. Your stories evoke this feeling and I cant find the way to express it.
Lovely little piece.
8792321
Slice of life-y-ness? There probably is a word, but I don't know what it is, either.
congrats on your scribblefest win
8881469
Thank you!
Congratulations on your EverfreeNW victory! It was well earned!
This was a very cute little story that I really enjoyed. It took me back to my young childhood when my mom would read the Little House in the Big Wood books to my siblings and I. It especially reminded me of the story in which Laura Ingalls's grandfather makes maple syrup.
I really appreciate all the research you did for it, too. It really paid off into a coherent, cute story!
8887695
Thanks! I'm glad you liked it, and that it brought you back memories of childhood.
I actually really enjoy researching and learning new things for stories. It's a lot of fun, and then I get to pass that knowledge on to my readers. With ponies.
I once tried making syrup out of silver maple sap. It took 5 gallons to get a pint of the stuff. And it tasted like chewing on a green maple twig someone had dumped sugar over.
But, boiling it further down and letting it sit for a month in the fridge let the sugar slowly crystallize and push out the woody flavor. So I ended up with several tablespoons of large, very pure sugar crystals.
So, success I guess. But it was hardly worth the hours of sap collection and boiling.
This story was sweet, but just a touch sappy!
This was much like I remember making maple syrup at my uncle's "sugar house" (local name for the building you boil and bottle in) - I think you got all the details right, so far as my memory can recall. I've also visited various sugar houses most years since then, and many still do it the traditional way, with wood. Some have switched fuels to natural gas, and many now have a reverse-osmosis set up as the first stage of concentration, but other than that, the process is largely unchanged.
All that boiling takes a lot of heat, and time, and that's what makes real maple syrup expensive - but oh so worth it.
There is nothing like maple syrup on snow at the sugar house. For those that want to replicate it:
1) Gather a small pot with a handle, some unused popsicle sticks, a flat shallow pan, fresh clean snow, and some real maple syrup (can't do this with the fake stuff).
2) Pack the snow into the shallow pan until the pan has a firm layer of snow in it, at least 1 inch deep.
3) Warm the syrup in a small pot with a handle until it will pour readily - until it will dribble off a spoon dipped into it and held up above the pot.
4) Holding the pot above the packed snow, slowly pour out the syrup while moving the pot across the length or width of the pan - ideally making a 1/2 inch to 1 inch-wide path upon the snow.
5) Quickly press the end of a popsicle stick into the end of the cooling syrup, and then start rolling the stick down the length, collecting the cooled syrup into a ball, or just twirl the stick to wad up the cooling syrup
6) Lick and enjoy much like a lollipop!
Birth is a very messy process, no matter which mammalian species. Horses have it a bit better than most, and presumably Equestrian ponies, too. I've long been of the opinion that families should be present as much as possible at births. It's educational in so many ways, to watch the process.
Excellent story, a pleasure to read. Thank you!
9341538
You won’t be surprised to know that I did a bunch of research on the topic (I knew the generalities, of course, but not the specifics). There are also a lot of modern maple syrup operations that take the sap through tubes to a collection point, rather than have buckets at every tree, and there were also some that freeze-concentrated it before starting the heating process, although every source I found said that that produced inferior syrup.
I would imagine that most of the smaller operations have access to lots of wood, which would make it a natural choice for the fuel.
One of the things I guessed at was them using milk cans to carry the sap . . . and then last summer, I was at a friend’s farm researching for a blog series on horse-powered farming, and he showed me their saphouse . . . which had a couple of milk cans for carrying the sap.
Like many things, the fake stuff is only a very pale imitation of the real deal.
It is indeed. I’ve got mixed feelings on being present . . . I think that Winter Berry’s reaction is pretty much on-point. And there probably is a level of maturity required to watch and understand the process. I do feel that it would be less squicky to a normally nude society, and I suppose that Earth ponies would be more down-to-nature when it comes to the birth of a foal. I suppose it would probably help out first-time mothers if they’d seen the process before, too.
You’re welcome! Glad you liked it.
I misstimed this again, but I just felt like one of your slice of life stories. I wanted to read it in March, but for some reason I didn't again. Even so, I'm very glad I read it.
9584653
Out in Michigan, April has felt very much like March, so I think it counts. Why, they’re predicting snow again on Saturday (although I’m sure it’ll all be gone by Sunday afternoon).
Being a Canadian I think there's always been a little sap in my blood, though not nearly as much as those who still work the sugarbushes. n_n
I do still love Maple candy, either taffy or sugar. And especially sending it to friends who've never tried it.