Refuge Farms (www.refugefarms.org)

Yesterday started out as usual, but just a little earlier. I was in the barns by 5am to hook and feed and adjust horse blankets for the day. You see, I needed to be on the road by 8am this particular Saturday morning or I was going to miss a series of appointments that I had arranged for the day. Appointments and meetings all the way until 6pm Saturday evening. So there was no time for dallying with the horses. I topped off the stock tanks while they ate, changed litter boxes, fed the house cats, and then turned The Herd loose and collected their buckets and ties.

By 8:13am I was heading north on Highway 128 to retrieve an elderly little mare who needed some cares. Her teeth were bad, you could tell by her breath that she had at least one infected pocket in that mouth of her. Her feet? Well, have you ever seen pictures of one of Santa's elves? And looked at their feet to see their curled up elf slippers? This little mare's feet were as deformed as those elf slippers yet she managed to walk and get herself around. She was thin, yes, but I attributed that to the fact that her mouth was painful and she was given hay to eat. She needed soaked hay cubes and a pelleted feed to help her sustain her strength until her mouth healed.

The plan was that the owner would have the mare on a lead rope at the end of their driveway when I arrived. So, as planned, I called when I was fifteen minutes out. "Yes, we're here," they said. Assuming they meant they were at the end of the driveway, I pushed on. Upon arriving it was another story.

The mare was in her pasture. And to the far west of that pasture. The family was in the house and the mother came to the door to hand me the halter and lead rope. "She's out there," she said, pointing to the mare. "She won't come to us so you'll have to go out and get her." The door closed. And once again, I found myself thinking that I've never had a problem with a horse. Never met a horse I couldn't get along with and didn't respect at some level. But humans? Oh, please! Don't get me started . . .

I walked right up to the mare and she loaded with ease. I had buted her and given her the first round of vaccinations right there in the pasture. When she entered the trailer she went to the pile of fresh hay and smelled it. And then she looked to her left. On the floor I had one of those huge black tubs with a hefty portion of pelleted feed in it. The mare spotted the feed and turned her head to look me right in the eye. Gratitude poured out of her weary eyes. I told her she would be cared for now and that she would not have to eat in pain anymore.

The drive to the east side of Black River Falls was uneventful. The sun was shining and the roads were bare. The trailer was carrying a deserving horse to her new home and I had confidence in the woman who was accepting the mare. She knew how to "bring 'em back", as she called it. This mare would be just fine and I had a happy heart.

Returning home, I found I was only running about 45 minutes later than planned and so I set about dropping the trailer so that I could run my next errand. Now, I've put this particular trailer on this particular truck and taken it off this particular truck hundreds of times in the past ten years. It is almost automatic. But at the beginning and the end of the process, I always stop to check the doors, check the chains, and check the cable. I take a moment to really look at the rig and make sure it is complete and correct before I move. This day was no different.

Before I began cranking the trailer up I did my review check. Hitch was unlocked. Chains were gathered up. Tailgate was down. Cable was disconnected. Emergency pull wire was disconnected. Timber blocks were centered and under the jack stand. I believed it was okay to crank. Fifty turns of the the crank. Change legs at turn number twenty-six. Crank. Let your mind wander for this part. Just keep cranking.

BAM!

I heard it after I saw it. The timbers under the jack stand had shifted and the trailer dropped with a thud to the ground. Standing next to it, I had no time to move. Just to look down at my feet to see if they would be under the trailer or not. Thankfully, they were not. And I was off to the side of the trailer and not under the neck of the trailer. Had I been there it would have been an entirely different story posted this morning.

Moving back, I began to tremble. I made my way over to the porch steps and sat myself down. I was shaking and crying. Madder than a wet hen and yet grateful. I was angry for the inconvenience of having to take the time to get the trailer back up again but so very, very happy that only the front of the trailer was damaged. Grateful that no one else was standing with me or coiling up a chain or a cable and standing under that neck when it came slamming into the earth and dropping over four feet. It could have been an entirely different story posted this morning.

Once I gathered myself, I went back to look at the trailer. Every single weld spot that holds the jack stand onto the trailer is broken. The jack stand itself is jammed up with the gears, I expect, broken to pieces. The plate that holds the jack stand onto the front wall of the trailer is in the shape of a "V". And the bolts that hold that plate onto the trailer have snapped off. As I looked over the situation and the trailer, I wondered what was holding the jack stand onto the trailer? What was holding the trailer those two inches off the ground? I don't know, actually. I don't know.

Inside the trailer, the front wall is bowed but nothing else appears damaged. I will want the frame checked, however. Having that trailer sound is vital to the safe transport of our precious cargo. And so the review of the trailer will be full even though the accident was minor compared to what could have been.

The remainder of the day went about pretty much as planned. Except for the time I took to contact my insurance agent and express my disgust with the entire event. His reponse set me straight, though. "At least you are alright, Sandy. This could have been very serious."

This morning I walked around the trailer to see if anything else showed signs of stress from the slam into the frozen ground that the trailer took. It appears safe, but again, the spot welds and the beams of the trailer must be checked. The neck is what holds the entire rig together. I won't pull a mouse in that trailer until I've seen with my own eyes that the damage was limited to the jack area. I only hope the innocent and unknowing Service Manager that I am about to meet will be tolerant of me!

What were my plans for the week? I had many. But now, my Monday will be spent getting the trailer onto the truck, somehow. Don't quite know how yet. It will have something to do with the skid loader, some jacks, some timbers, and a lot of care and precaution. Once the trailer is hooked onto the truck, then I'll get it to the dealer and impress upon them the importance of getting this trailer back on the road this week. You see, two little ponies go to their new home and Helen comes to us next week. No time for dallying. Once again - or should I stay still? - no time for dallying!

Enjoy the journey of each and every day (and be safe!),
Sandy and The Herd