Abby and Two Socks died together in a tragic, freak accident - a lightning strike in the northwest pasture. Tim and I have been able to piece together the story after talking to neighbors, but there are still some unknowns. (How did Hokey survive?) Here is what we know.
Friday evening, Tim did a barn check and all was well. We'd had stormy weather on Friday, but the horses had access to shelter in the old barn if they wanted to come in from the rain and were fine. Thunderstorms continued through the night and then lessened around 5:00 in the morning.
A little after noon I headed out to the barn to visit Abby. It was a beautiful sunny day so I was surprised to not see Abby or Sultanna when I arrived. I could see Hokey poke his nose out of the old barn when I called, but he did not come out.
Thinking he was blocking the mares behind him so they couldn't get out, I started walking out to the old barn, calling and whistling for Abby.
I went through the paddock, past the farmhouse bell, and entered the northeast pasture.
As I climbed the rise to the barn, I glanced over to my left into the northwest pasture. I could see Abby and Sultanna lying on their sides next to each other.
How odd, I thought. They must really be asleep. But they were so still that a feeling of dread came over me. Something was wrong.
I again called Abby's name and whistled for her like I always do. Neither mare moved.
I knew then that they were dead.
I approached the gate into that pasture and looked more closely. There was no motion; the horses were just lying in the grass. I could see some bark had been blown off of a small tree near them and that lightning had struck that tree.
Later both Tim and I would wonder why the lightning hit that particular tree, one of the smallest trees of many, many much bigger trees in and around that pasture.
I put my forehead down on the top bar of the gate, closed my eyes, and took some deep breaths. Abby was gone. Sultanna was gone. I needed to let Tim know.
With shaking hands I pulled my phone out and called him. There was no answer so I left a message and then called his wife, Loni. She was shocked, too, and said he was out working in the yard and she would go tell him.
Then she dropped another bombshell. "That's not Sultanna, that's Two Socks. Tim brought her home from training three days ago when he took Sultanna out for breeding."
Oh, no, not Two Socks. She was so very young! Not the baby!
Tim arrived quickly and came striding out to the gate where I was waiting. He was just as shocked as I was at seeing those two mares down. He walked out to check them and then came back to the gate. "You're right, it was a lightning strike. They did not suffer," he told me. "They dropped where they were standing. I can tell by the way they are lying. They never knew what happened - they died instantly."
That knowledge was a relief and still comforts me.
While I had been waiting for Tim to arrive, I'd gone up to the old barn and checked on Hokey. I was able to tell Tim that I saw no visible marks on him, but that he was spooked and did not want to leave the barn. Still, he was alive and we were grateful for that.
Still trying to process what had happened, Tim and I discussed our next steps. Purdue was closed since it was the weekend, and the closest company that would take deceased livestock on the weekend was two hours away. Tim was leaving for a family event Monday morning. What on earth were we going to do?
Tim decided he would check with the neighbors for a timeline as to when the mares had died while he continued to figure out what our next step should be. And that proved to be where we found our solution to taking care of the mares.
One neighbor shared that it was legal to bury livestock on the property if it was 1) outside of city limits and 2) was currently in agricultural use. The barn is about four miles outside of town so we were good there. Running horses on the land as Tim does was considered an agricultural use.
We could bury the girls.
Tim expressed the same sentiment that I felt at that news - it was very comforting to know that we could lay them to rest there at their home. I would be able to visit Abby's grave as time went on. A little piece of my heart healed then and there.
Abby and Two Socks were buried early on Sunday morning.
As for the timing of when the lightning strike happened, all the neighbors reported hearing a very loud lightning strike around 5:00 AM. It had woken some of them up, frightened their children, and one neighbor said his teenage son came running up from the basement in alarm. My brother who lives two miles down the road from the barn also reported that they had been awakened by a very loud clap of thunder around 5:00.
So, how did Hokey survive? Well, normally the three mares hang out together while he is more of a loner. He's generally in their vicinity, but sometimes 100 feet or more away from them. We think that Hokey was far enough away when the lightning struck and thus survived.
But can you imagine the noise? The heat and bright light? The electricity in the air that Hokey must have felt? To say nothing of Abby and Two Socks dropping and unmoving? No wonder the poor guy is spooked and wanting to stay in the old barn where he feels safe.
Another thing to be thankful for is that Sultanna was away at the breeder's when this happened. Like I said, the three mares were always together and I think chances are high that she would have been killed, too.
So, now we move forward. And that's hard. I am devastated and I think Tim is, too. I am trying to focus on the life that Abby lived and the joy she brought me and others instead of her death.
I was blessed to have that sweet girl in my life. But oh, will she ever be missed.
Rest in peace, Abby. I love you, sweet girl.
