An Unexpected Horrifying Situation

After my post on bubble wrapping horses, we had a major scare, Epona got stuck in the bottom bars of a divider. The divider is in our outside loafing shed, and the bars aren't set all that wide between, but she somehow managed to get half of her body, up to her belly, into it.  That particular divider is set permanently into the structure. It's the way it was designed....I'll backtrack.

First, our horse turnout is directly behind our house and we have a view of the horses from all the back windows. We can see them when we’re in the kitchen, dining room, living room, office, and bedroom. If they're in the front pasture, we can see them from several places as well, but the turnout was designed to be directly in front of the majority of the windows. Also, the way we set the loafing shed, we can see into it, too, from the windows, though it is a ways off, and you can’t see precisely what’s happening.

Yesterday morning I was mostly watching Tumbleweed because he was lying down in the sun on the wasted grass from the round bale. Foxy left to go to the pasture and he stayed there sleeping. My brain went, ahem, why isn't he getting up?

A few minutes later, he was up and by the loafing shed, where I'd been watching Beautiful Girl discipline Epona, then Epona run to her mama in another loafing shed.

Soon, Tweed was lying down in the sun, but this time, in the loafing shed. Cowgirl was standing in another stall, next to him, with Epona asleep at her feet. 

Again, I wondered why Tweed was sleeping, and determined to keep watching, just in case  

About ten minutes went by, and I saw Tweed get up, then sniff around Epona's head. Her head didn't go up. Hmmm...is she in deep sleep? Then, I saw Cowgirl leave the stall and still Epona lay sleeping..hmmm...now I'm getting worried. When Cowgirl left the stall, Tweed entered it, and started sniffing around Epona's body, still no movement from Epona.

By then I was dressed and ready to go out with my daughter and grandson for her birthday lunch. We were almost out the door when I saw Tumbleweed sniffing Epona. I told my daughter I was afraid something was wrong with Epona, because she wasn't moving. My daughter reassured me that she was just enjoying a nap in the sun. However, worry wart that I am, I decided to change coats, boots, etc, and run out to the barn. I told her to wait up a minute and I'd be right back.

Wrong.

When I got closer to Epona, she still wasn't raising her head when I called out her name (very unusual for her.) I knew something was wrong. 

When I got almost right up to her, I saw that she had wedged herself into the bottom bars of a divider. She had somehow gotten her front legs, neck & head, and half her torso, up to the fat part of her belly, between the two bottom bars. In all our years of owning horses and horse panels, we have never had anything like that happen.

I think my adrenalin spiked, however, my demeanor became oddly calm with the acute understanding that it was a life or death situation for Epona. 

Her eyes were somewhat in shock and, thankfully, she was very still. It looked like she had tried to get out, and dug some of the dirt around her. I surveyed the situation and quickly saw that the divider was rock solid in the structure. She was also too heavy for us to pull out. There were not going to be many choices, and time was of the essence.

I made a phone call to my husband, but all I could say was, "something very bad is happening out here. Please come help me." He kept asking me what, and I kept responding, "something very bad." Eventually, I spit it out. "Epona is stuck in the bars of a divider." 

In retrospect, I think the reason I didn't spit it out at first is because I knew it sounded like no big deal. Stuck in the bars? So what? Move her feet. Turn her over.

But it wasn't like that. It was a very big deal.

He understood it was a big deal and hurried to our aid. When he arrived he had the same assessment I did, but a different plan. My plan was to saw the bars off. His plan was to get the tractor, tie her back legs, and pull her out.

We tried my plan first, but as he figured would happen, when he started to cut the bars, she overreacted and put herself in more danger. We aborted that plan immediately and he went to get the tractor.

When the tractor arrived, Cowgirl ran off. (Bad mama) Epona tried, again, to get up, which was impossible. Then she lay back down. My hopes for a successful extraction were getting lower by the second.

Well, I will tell you this, I was right to be pessimistic and it wasn't easy, several times we almost quit, but with me holding her head down and working with her front legs, and him tying her and pulling her gently, little by little, we were able to free her and, though she was still in a bit of shock, she was able to walk off with her mama. When she stood still, she was favoring the leg that had been pinned underneath her body, which I chalked up to having gone numb. And, in fact, as she walked it off, that seemed to get better.

Cowgirl was very protective of her throughout the entire experience, and she gently pushed her to keep walking, while also warning the other horses to stay away from her. Epona would come back to the scene of the crime and sniff, as if she was trying to learn what she'd done wrong. She would come to me for comfort, but then walk off, rather than allowing me to pet her. 

After observing her for a while, and seeing that she was going to survive (at least the initial part of our plan) the adrenalin came crashing down on me like a heart attack. That's an amazing process--adrenalin. It marshals every mental and physical resource, but when you're to safety, and no longer in need of it, it is an overwhelming physical pressure. 

Anyway, fast forward the rest of the day, she was moving around like normal, eating, pooping, no swelling.  However, I put her in a stall last night with some Bute so that I could observe her and so that she wouldn't go back and get stuck in the divider again. As soon as we can, we're going to attach plywood to the bottom of the dividers, but that will have to wait until this weekend.

Today, she is moving around well and still pooping and eating, but there is some stocking up where her legs were tied. I've Buted her again, and will probably let her out soon. Although, there has been a severe weather change from the sunshine of yesterday to a near blizzard today. 

I am once again left in this position of choosing the lesser of two evils: in or out. She needs to be out moving, but in a blizzard?

Looking back, I am incredibly thankful to myself for being such a worry wart, and for my husband, for being such an able-bodied fixer of catastrophes. I am also thankful for the miracle of her still being alive. Didn't I just say I was closing the door on death? I guess that's not up to us, is it? Death will find us anyway. I suppose the universe wants something different from me. Perhaps, a different understanding of what death (and all loss) means, and how to live in a world so deeply affected by it, so profoundly at its mercy.