A Mid Summer Night's Nightmare

July 31st 1994 was a perfect summer Sunday. It was warm, but not too hot. The sun was shining all day, and I had spent the entirety of it at the barn riding multiple horses. I was 14 years old, had a junior hunter named Bud, and was your stereotypical barn rat. Yet, I had no idea what was to come later that evening.

Just two weeks before this fateful day we had wrapped up two consecutive A rated horse shows at the barn where I kept my horse. I had gotten the privilege to show a sales horse that had arrived during the show. He was a big bay warmblood, the first one I’d ridden. And boy… I did NOT know how to ride this horse. We made it around the courses and everything, but it was far from smooth. Just a very different ride than I was used to. But this Sunday I had a wonderful lesson on that horse. It helped make for an especially great day at the barn. 

My dad picked me up that evening at 5pm (barn closing time on Sundays). We went straight to pick up Chinese food for the family for dinner. When we got home, I had gone to the rest room to wash my hands when the phone rang, and it was for me. (Back then our phones were attached to the wall, and we had one number for the whole household!) My friend Tricia was calling because her family had a police scanner, and she had heard there was a fire at my barn. I remember walking back into the kitchen and telling my dad very matter of factly that there was a fire at the barn as I sat down and bit into an egg roll. I didn’t really believe what I had heard, hence the non urgency on my end. My dad looked at me, and said, “well I think we should go back, don’t you?” Oh. Yes. Yes we should.

My dad’s house was at the bottom of a hill about four miles from the barn, so when we drove up the road I could see the black smoke billowing in the air. I thought it had to be the plant nursery next door to the barn. It was a mistake when they said the Hunt Club. Had to be. 

The fire department wouldn’t let us park very close, so we had to walk about a mile from the car. I was starting to realize this wasn’t a mistake. That the barn was indeed on fire. It was probably a little after 6 at this point. Maybe 6:30. It was pretty chaotic when my dad and I arrived. Good Samaritans, the on-site staff, and firefighters had just opened stall doors and sent horses outside. But horses look for what they know as safe and several kept running back into the barn. By the time I had arrived most of the horses had been secured in a field on the other side of the property. There was a small barn there as well, which is where I found my horse. Relief washed over me once I knew he was safe. He seemed completely unharmed, not a scratch on him! Though all the horses were obviously shaken up. 

The reason my horse was secured in a stall rather than out with the others, was because he kept jumping out of the field. Leave it to my horse to be the problem… 

Once I knew my horse was safe I had a moment to actually see what was happening. There were so many people already there, doing what they could to help. We were all kept by the field with the horses, away from the fire. That fire. It was raging. The flames climbed high into the sky. The entire indoor ring and all but the newer section of the barn were completely engulfed. There really wasn’t much for us to do at this point but watch. As dark fell, the barn owner had a few of us take some horses across the property to another barn on an adjacent property. They were horses that shouldn’t be out with others, either due to personality problems or injuries. To get there, we had to walk past the fire. Not at all close, but that direction. And I can still remember how hot it was. I’ve never felt anything like it, even now all these years later. 

I don’t really remember a whole lot else that happened that night. I know there were so many people there for support. Eventually my parents made me go home and get some sleep. It was late into the night, but I’m not sure what time. At that point, the fire was controlled, but still burning pretty strongly. 

Obviously, I was up and ready to get back to the barn very early the next morning. That’s when it all became so real to me. We arrived to find the fire fully extinguished. The firemen were still on scene to make sure nothing reignited. There were horse trailers lining the street. People from farms all across the state had come. They just showed up with their trailers in tow full of supplies. Water buckets. Hay. Feed. Tack. Everything. Offers to house horses until we could figure things out. Offers of school horses to borrow to keep lessons going and bring in some income. Local restaurants brought us food. Honestly, in moments of despair like this, we do get to see the good in people. Differences get set aside and people just show up to help. It’s pretty heartwarming. 

That morning, everyone was at the barn. Boarders, lesson kids and their families, trainers. Everyone. There was a lot to do. We still had 21 horses to take care of. We wouldn’t be riding for a few days of course. None of us had any tack! But the horses needed attention. Most of them were still in the field from the night before. Any injured or unruly ones were still in the neighboring small barns. Things seemed under control while everyone was figuring out next steps. The vet came out. One of the horses had pretty severe smoke inhalation and a few of the others just needed some cuts and scrapes tended to. 

Sometime around mid morning us kids were gathered up and given a pile of tack that had been pulled out of the rubble. We were asked to clean it up and see if any of it was salvageable. Of course, I know now that was just something to keep us distracted. None of that tack would be safe for use ever again after the extreme heat and then water it was exposed to. What was happening behind us was something the adults didn’t want us to see. They were removing the horses that didn’t get out. Figuring out which horses were missing. Eight were found still in the barn. All of our lesson horses: Pixie, Daisy, Jaz, Ben, Crackers, Eddie, and Gusty. And one more- Abbey. Abbey was my project pony. She was just four years old. My trainer owned her, but I was the one doing the riding on her. Teaching her to be a riding pony. Just a baby horse really. 

I remember sitting in a circle with some of the younger kids cleaning that tack. One little girl whose pony was safe, asked me about Abbey. I didn’t know what to say, because I thought, does this little kid know about death? Fortunately, while I paused to figure out what to tell her, she seemed to know, and said, “It’ll be okay, you can ride my pony whenever you want.” And that’s when I cried for the first time. This sweet little girl offering to share her pony with me just sent me over the edge. Just for a moment. I gave her a hug and we went back to scrubbing useless tack. 

Once all of the horses in the barn were identified we knew three were still missing. Two came back on their own later that first day. But one did not. We didn’t have drones back then to go looking for horses in the woods. But someone with a helicopter in the area offered up their services in the coming days. That third horse was found three days later. He wasn’t much worse for the wear surprisingly! Just some scrapes really. It was a huge relief. Some good news amidst all the tragedy. 

A lot would happen those first few days. A tent and temporary stalls arrived to house our horses for the rest of the summer. We got it all set up and things ran pretty smoothly from that tent. The outdoor ring wasn’t near the fire so it was perfectly fine and usable. Our barn owner also owned a tack store and it was saved from the flames, so several of us were able to replace tack right away and get back to riding. Plenty of brushes and things for care were available in the store, plus local horse people had donated buckets and things to get us going again. There was one wing of the barn that had been an addition several years back, and that was saved as well. It needed professional deep cleaning and some work done on it, but eventually we were able to move horses in there and things got more normal. Some of us even returned to horse showing. Our barn owner thought it would be good for us to get back out there, plus it would be less horses to care for at home while they were still finding our new normal. By late fall we had a temporary indoor arena to use for the winter. It was pretty small, but got us through. 

By the second winter we had a brand new very large indoor ring complete with a viewing area, larger tack store, and offices. Bigger and better as they say! Life went on. But there are still things that stick with you from something traumatic like that. I still think about those school horses all the time. I took my very first lesson ever on Daisy. And learned new things on each of those school horses. When I got to be one of the big kids, I did the tune up rides on Crackers and Eddie. Crackers would go through phases of dragging the beginner kids into the barn while they were still mounted, and Eddie would just need reminders about steering aids. All of those lost horses were so special. They weren’t fancy show horses, but they were the backbone of that barn. Everyone’s first teachers. 

I still remember what it smelled like after the fire. It’s a different smell than a wood stove or a fireplace gives off. The smoke in the air from the wildfires triggers my memories of the day. It’s still not the exact scent, but it’s reminiscent. The reminders aren’t triggering exactly. This event is a part of me, and I think it’s healthy to think back on it from time to time. It taught me strength. How to be calm and productive when things are hard and scary. How even when you want to fall apart, you need to care for your horse. Be there for the younger kids. I grew up a lot those days, weeks, and months. And the one thing that helped me through it? My horse. To this day, I seek them out when things are hard. There’s just something about horses that helps mend the heart. They might be the reason it broke in the first place… but they always make it whole again.

Sources

Stacie Seidman