Featured Article (March 2007)

They say that what won’t kill you makes you stronger, and in my case, this is true. My memories are of human nature, the horse world, and the importance of sticking to your convictions in the face of ridicule from those in the community and my own barn. This became a lesson about being more aware of viruses or dangers that lurk anywhere. It became a lesson I needed to learn for the safety of my barn and the horses that stay and visit here.

So, with a heavy heart I write this reflection as someone who has walked through fire to come out wiser on the other side.

It was a lovely, lazy Sunday afternoon in April 2002. The horses grazed while the staff worked to ready the weekly feed of bran mash for all the horses. Everything was calm and serene…until suddenly there seemed to be panic coming from the top aisle of the barn.

One of our instructors, Judi, came running towards me saying that something was horribly wrong with her own horse, "Ivy." She noticed that Ivy seemed to be lethargic and not well at all. When she pulled her out of her stall, the mare staggered and lost control of her hind end, as if she was paralyzed! When the vet arrived his demeanor of calm and cool, became that of speechlessness after he examined Ivy. He said that he thought he knew what this was, but had never witnessed it first hand. Before he could confirm, he would need blood tests. Then, he turned to me and told me to isolate all of the horses. No horse was to have contact with anyone, and everyone should leave the farm immediately!

My heart sank as my panic level rose.

Cautiously I asked, "What is wrong?"

"It could be the Rhino Virus or EHV-1" he said.

"What do you mean? They are up to date on all shots!" I said

He then explained that no vaccine protected the animals from this strain.

Furthermore, this strain is not one that can be prevented and is highly contagious to other horses. Finally, with dread in his eyes, he said that if we didn’t take control very quickly, death was imminent for every horse on the property.

With so many questions and with little time, I ran to quickly get everyone out of the barn and off the premises.

Tears still well up in my eyes when I recall that dreadful day. No one knew, especially me, what drama would unfold or the life experiences I was about to learn. The crisis at the barn kept me from thinking about the pain I was suffering after losing my father so suddenly to a brain aneurysm a few weeks before. People had been so kind to me when I lost my father. This would quickly change. I was about to learn that in times of stress, there is good and bad in everyone. People who I thought were friends and allies became dangerous adversaries, only out for themselves. Others, who up until then I’d never given a second thought to, proved to be angels sent from heaven.

As I ran to get everyone out of the barn, another instructor approached me concerned that "Rocky" was not right behind. It seemed that he was not able to keep his balance on the way back to his stall after being groomed. Rocky and Ivy had never met but I knew instinctively what was happening to the gelding. I quickly grabbed him and brought him to the top aisle, which was rapidly becoming a hospital ward.

Instructed by the vet to take everyone’s temperatures, two sick horses suddenly became over 20 horses with a fever and I knew that soon paralysis would also be their fate.

For the better part of 6 weeks, there was a lot of drama and sadness. We received phone calls from the press. Channel 7, Channel 5 and other media outlets had all gotten anonymous calls that we were killing horses. We decided to have a meeting, open to all; neighbors, press, boarders, and grant full disclosure on what was happening.

In the mean time, Ivy was put down. Rocky, who for awhile seemed to be doing ok, got worse. We made a stall inside a stall so that he could remain standing and get him through the week. What struck us as being very strange was that he’d eat happily and didn’t seem to care that he had no use of his hind end. After a few days, we realized Rocky had to be put down. When we tried to move him out of the stall he fell on one of our staff, breaking his leg instantly. Screaming in pain, Pedro was our first concern. The ambulance came to take him away, and Rocky was put down right after that. The most difficult part was trying to get Rocky’s dead body onto a trailer to be taken for an autopsy, especially because the tractor operator was on his way to the hospital. It was up to me to jump on the tractor and a couple of us managed to get him on the trailer.

Throughout the virus ordeal, we dealt with angry boarders, some of whom blamed us for the virus as if we’d intentionally started the epidemic. They screamed at us through stall windows as we medicated their horses, threatening what they would do if their horse didn’t survive. But I stuck by my convictions and let no one in the barns, except the veterinarian and two staff members.

One staff member, unable to handle the stress, threw her keys at me and walked out. However, Judi DeMichele, who had lost her own horse, was right there to assist with medications. Lauren Griffith, another instructor, whose only pay was for lessons given, was there every day without question. These two people, whose only income from this barn was from lessons (lessons that were now canceled for the foreseeable future), knew that the farm would be financially devastated and it would be difficult to pay them right away. They didn’t care. Their only concern was for the well being of the horses and the overall farm. I will never forget their kindness in the face of such a tragedy.

Our goal was to make sure that the horses with fevers did not get to the paralysis stage. This was a difficult task especially with limited staff. After a few days, we started to settle into the routine of medicating 20 + horses. This consisted of:

Taking the horses’ temperatures 2 or 3 times daily.

Medications administered every 4 hours around the clock: 7am, 11am, 3pm, 7pm, 11pm, 3am, 7am, everyday.

Walking in and out of bleach baths posted at every door to prevent any spread of the virus.

Frequent vet visits and conversations about certain horses, medications, etc.

Taking calls from boarders, students and people from the community, a few who asked if we were getting enough food and sleep. One kind boarder brought us a casserole because she knew of our insane schedule.

I took night duty and the others helped during the day so I could get a few winks to prepare for the cycle to begin again. But sleep was at a premium for all of us.

Then, I was made aware that something was wrong with my pony, Sugar. Sugar was one of my father’s favorites. Sugar, now 22 years old, had come to us when she was 3 weeks old with her mother Candy. Now she was banging her head against the wall and falling all over the stall. Her eyes frantically moved back and forth and up and down. The vet said that the virus seemed to affect her in the brain. We would have to put her down in the morning.

Questions raced through my mind. How could this be? Were the medications we were giving not working? Will this be the fate of the others?

It was at this point that I almost gave up. After Sugar’s diagnosis, I almost had a break down. I stared at the wall for over an hour and my sisters and mother, worried about my mental state, stayed with me that night. My sister Doreen touched my heart when, tears rolling down her face, she said, "Maur, its ok. Dad may want Sugar with him in heaven, and he might need some company up there. We have to let her go."