Under the bridge

Today's my birthday and I got the most wonderful gift --- Baasha survived a horrible bridge accident yesterday.

I thought I'd lost him for sure, I had even sort of accepted that he was dying there. I kept telling him "It's OK" but I knew I was lying, there was no way he could make it out in one piece. I'm so grateful to still have a horse. I can't believe it.

How many bridges do we cross in our years of trailriding? Statistically one of them had to give out. Yesterday in the pouring rain, lost again, desperate to find a way home, I led him across a bridge that looked questionable. My gosh I'll never do that again. I may not even go over any bridge again. At the time, I thought I may never ever ride a horse again, and understood what it would feel like to be traumatized out of riding horses.

I led him across, stamping down on each board to see if it could support him, and I told him, "Let's get off this thing" about halfway across, but I was going intentionally slow, thinking that would be safer. I don't know, suddenly he just fell through it, and then to my horror, he was trapped half under half next to it. With the bridge between his back legs, he couldn't get up. He tried about 6 times, and then fell back exhausted. Nails were sticking out where the boards broke, big 4 inch long nails were a handsbreadth from his stomach and rear legs. He was lying in a pile of cut pine trees, with these spiked branch ends cutting into his face as he tried to rise.

I told him to try again, and he did, but then I knew it was futile, best for him to just stop trying. I didn't know if he was bleeding down there, but his legs didn't look broken to me.

The hardest thing I've ever done was leaving him there under that bridge. I had no idea where we were, how far to town, but he clearly couldn't get out of there without help. I remember running through the woods for 20 minutes, searching for a house, and thinking "You didn't even tell him you'd be right back."

I finally found a house and told the man, "I need help - my horse is trapped under a bridge, and we need a chain saw, and maybe the fire department."

He asked me some sort of question and I couldn't take it, I just burst into tears. He tried to get me to come in out of the rain and I backed out of his doorway because I just wanted to run back there as fast as I could. I had to go very slowly as the man struggled to follow me on the trails with his chainsaw.

My horse looked dead, his body twisted, his legs at odd angles, his mouth slighly open from the weird position and his eyes glazed over, staring up at the sky. The man was overwhelmed and immediately called the fire department. I told him we may need a vet, too.

I couldn't quite get to Baasha's saddle to get it off, without falling between the sharp branches and his legs. I got bruised a bit from his struggles to get up and I couldn't get away. Also, I thought the saddle is probably protecting him from those jagged branches, and maybe even keeping him warmer. I just tried to keep my hand on his nose, to try to keep him from trying to rise.

The sight of him lying there under the bridge will be emblazoned on my mind the rest of my life.

Baasha's breathing was shallow - I think it was hard to breathe in that position. At one point I thought he was dead, and I shook him and told him to breathe. I was somewhat calm at that point. Accepting his death - thinking I'd just leave my tack, I won't be needing it. My camera was somewhere under him - won't be needing that anymore either.

I asked the man if he could try to please get some of those nails out, but he said he's afraid of horses. It really wasn't safe anyway, to try. We didn't know when Baasha would start to struggle again.

Agonizing, waiting. It was perhaps another 20 minutes before they arrived. The ambulance drove up a forest road and about 7 firemen and a cop came trudging down a hillside to us. Then there were the interminable discussions about how to best free my horse. I burst into tears again because how come they weren't cutting something right away!?

Baasha was twisting his head around trying to see the fluorescent-clad men all discussing around him. The firemen asked me questions I couldn't answer, and they saw that I didn't understand them. One of them, the firechief, came right to Baasha's head and started talking to me in English. He's a horseman, and started stroking Baasha and saying Brrrrr to him when he'd try to rise. (Brr --> Woah) Baasha would groan miserably and lay his head back down on the branches, giving up. It was heartwrenching, even for the non-horsey firemen.

Baasha started shaking. I couldn't tell if he was lying directly in the creek, but later it turned out he was. The firechief risked his life trying to get Baasha's saddle and breastcollar off. He unbuckled it wrong and my rider license fell down into the creek. I thought, "Oh well, I won't need that anyway cuz Baasha's not gonna survive this."

We needed a vet with a shot.

The firemen started cutting with saws, running into nails and starting again. I was thinking how calm they all were, yah, this is their job, not too exciting. A cop was there snapping photos. Yah, my horse looked really bad - and I don't think I could have brought myself to take a photo of that. I had taken off my thin jacket and placed it on Baasha's chest, and that left me in a tank top in the rain, I'm sure I looked great (sarcasm).

Then the firemen stopped cutting because they determined they'd need the vet before risking any blades near my horse. Then I had to wait, again, for the vet to show up.

Finally the vet was there, and asked how long my horse has been down. I said 1.5 hours. He took his vital signs and said "Amazingly, all good. He's very calm, so let's do this without the shot."

Then 7 firemen went back to work and when everything was cut, they all pushed together to get the beam out from between Baasha's legs. As they moved it, more nails were exposed, and they cut them out. The firechief also cut all the jagged braches by Baasha's head and chest - Baasha almost lost an eye on them trying to get up!

When they pulled the bridge away and Baasha was freed, he just lay there, unwilling to try again. The firemen all pulled on him, discussing ways to get him up. The vet was pulling on his halter with all his strength, and I told him, "It'll break." Finally the vet slapped Baasha hard on his side and yelled at him to get up. It convinved him to try again. He finally made it to his feet, and as soon as he was up, he leapt up the hillside to get out of the creek area. The firechief had his rein in his hand and just ran up the embankment after Baasha. Baasha started snorting in delayed-reaction-fear. Water was running down his rump, he had bloody marks all over him, especially his legs, and a multitude of branches in his tail and mane. He started shaking very badly up there, all four legs chattering on the ground.

I started to slowly realize he had all four legs unbroken. He was OK??? The vet inspected him again and said "It's a miracle, these Arabians are tough." I was in awe. I took the opportunity to grab my wet camera and get a pic - this is where Baasha "landed" when he escaped, with the firechief holding him.

Baasha nudged the firechief rudely with his nose and started pawing the ground frantically. The vet laughed and said, "That's an Arab for you, they just wanna go!" The firechief did not scold Baasha for pawing, Baasha you can paw all you like.

Then Baasha peed and pooped, and then the vet gave him a shot of painkiller and antibiotics.

Here's what's left of the bridge - the beam on the left is the one he had between his back legs for almost 2 hours.

The firechief said there's no way we're walking home from here - we were too far away. He would go get his own horse trailer for us. The firemen gave Baasha a wool blanket (FINALLY) so he would stop shaking. (I kept it.)

The other firemen went home, joking to him that it is always fun to work with the boss himself. I thanked the man who helped me profusely. He'll be getting a package of goodies and a card from us.

Although my saddle was soaking wet and terribly heavy, the firechief insisted on carrying it the whole way out of the woods. We both thought Baasha shouldn't have to, and he wanted to spare me. I was overwhelmed at this gesture.

As we walked through the woods, we came to a small bridge. The firechief stamped on it with his feet and that was just too much deja vu for me. He said "It's safe" and I said "No way. We'll find another way." No way was I gonna risk a bridge after that. I walked right thru the creek with Baasha, my holey Ariats filling with water. I knew in my heart Baasha would have walked over that second bridge with me, with such a trusting obedient spirit. I almost killed you today.

Then the firechief went and got his trailer, and although he had brought a bucket of grain to lure Baasha, we didn't need it, Baasha gets right in trailers, even the funny european ones.

I got a photo of him in front of our house when we arrived home. My man had no idea anything had happened, despite how late it was, because I often ride for hours. People kept offering me cell phones to call him, but he was working and didn't suspect anything so he wasn't near the phone. I got the telephone number of the firechief and his wife, they own the Irish Tinker (Vanner) and some ponies that I've met in the next neighborhood. I realized he had an American accent - he's originally from California. His wife runs the "pony party" business that I've ridden by a few times.

I have to say I've never seen my man feed Baasha so many carrots - his way of showing Baasha how happy he is to have him home safe. My man also went up and got a new bale of hay and fed it to Baasha, and he stayed with him while I finally changed into dry clothes.

I washed all Baasha's wounds and put medicine on them. I got his winter blanket out of storage because the weather cooled off sharply last night, and I wanted his poor strained muscles warm. I gave him his mash and kissed under his mane. I said "I'm so sorry."

I worried all night long, and ran out there at 6:30 this morning to see if he is OK. Although several of his wounds are nasty looking, he's not terribly swollen and he can walk just fine. I won't be asking anything of him for a long time.

I won't be riding without a cell phone ever again. And I know the number for German 911 now. This is my camera case and water bottle - both in funny shapes after being crushed.









Somewhere in this circle there is one less bridge.











I'll just keep feeding Baasha carrots and telling him how wonderful he is. What a great birthday this is for me, I have a horse: )