Carlos Edge Fire

Cordia Pearson

Society of Master Saddlers Qualified Saddle Fitter

As I headed out into the mare paddock on October 19th, 2000, I couldn't help but look to the west and wonder about the haze and the smell of burning leaves. With the Carlos Avery Wildlife Refuge on two sides of our 80 acres, everyone worried about the possibility of fire after weeks without rain. For several weekends, Charles had been cutting back the brush and cattails around our house and the paddocks. I called our town hall and was assured that smoke was from a DNR controlled burn, but half an hour later, it became apparent the fire was spreading. A call to a nearby friend, Joyce Yokum, confirmed what all my senses were telling me. The fire was out of control and headed straight for us. She told me to get the horses ready to move, that she would arrange for trailers. I phoned Charles in the Twin Cities and flew into action.

We run a "halterless" farm, so the first order was getting everyone into their stalls and supplied with halters and leads. The cats went into crates, I jerked my CPU free of its attachments and called the farm packed. After getting the neighbor’s eight horses onto trailers, Joyce helped me hose down our main barn and the grass around it. Jim Huddleston arrived with a three-horse trailer and Joey, our 29-year-old survivor of a barn fire was the first on board. The smoke was so thick, breathing was difficult, but Jo evidenced no fear, just excitement about the prospect of a trailer ride. His favorite mare and one of his daughters leapt into the trailer with him and were off. Joyce and I continued to water and wait for more trailers to arrive. Joan and Scotty Winger, friends from North Branch made it to the farm about the time a second trailer arrived. When they saw what was going on, Scotty left, taking the cats and going for another trailer. While three more horses got off the farm (including the pregnant Laraco's Foxfire) disturbing reports were coming in. To the west of us, the police were not allowing anyone into the area. Charles had been turned back and had to find a different way into the farm. Shortly after he arrived, someone called with the news that the police weren’t letting any more trailers in to us. It looked as if the best we could do was walk out as many horses as we had people for and put the rest into their paddocks and hope for the best. To make matters worse, the police arrived, demanding that we leave immediately.

Just when it looked like we would have to leave six of the horses behind, a huge group of people arrived at the farm. The word had gone out that Avatar was in trouble and many of them walked in to us. Even folks who didn't know a thing about horses showed up to help. Ours is a breeding herd. Over half of our dozen had never left home and none of them other than Jo had ever been through such circumstances. Despite this, the animals remained calm and co-operative. As we sorted out who would walk who, more than one cop got ordered, "You, get over here and hold this horse." It was one of those odd moments in life when you really get a clear look at the difference between horse people and non-horse people. It is reported that one of the cops confessed later that he was deathly afraid of horses and yet, he did what needed to be done. Lynn Teadt, John Felde, Kris Anderson and Brian Knospe were our other "leaders", as well as two other people whose names I do not know. Charles and I were the last out the driveway, leaving our truck behind (again, hoping for the best.) We both had breeding stallions, Charles with KJB All That Jazz and I had Avatar's Incantation. As we headed down the road, the sky behind us was blood red as the fire rounded the bend. Try to imagine what it's like with fire trucks racing past you in the pitch dark, police cars and sirens, the wind raging through the trees and walking a breeding stallion. Now, walk through this stuff for seven miles. Josh depended heavily on hearing Jazz’s hoof beats. About fifteen minutes down the road, I had Josh within 8 feet of Jazz. All the guy stuff got forgotten as they counted on each other for moral support. A passing fireman gave us the news that our house had been bull dozed in, trying to create a firebreak. Oh, well, was about all the reaction I could muster. So long as the barns remained, the fire was welcome to the house.

Up ahead of us, our friend, John Felde, had our two-year colt, Avatar's Illumination. He walked "Casey" eight miles, to the grocery store in Stacy where the police were making the trailers wait. There, another friend, Patty Brusten, helped load the horses as they arrived. Joyce called a local judge and thanks to that conversation, Joan and Scotty’s daughter, Jessica Adams and her husband, Josh were allowed in with another trailer and two more horses got rides. The rest of us just kept soldiering on. Two young men, who knew nothing about horses, went back to the farm and retrieved our truck and John’s motorcycle. Charles and I made it to Sue and Bill Lein’s, about seven miles from the farm with Incantation and his half sister, Ariel. Timberlein had already evacuated 28 horses, so we had our choice of paddocks as we awaited the arrival of Chuck and Debbie Beyers with their "super trailer." By this time, my knees were like water and I was very grateful to let Chuck and Debbie give the last three horses their first trailer loading lessons. Debbie is an all breeds trainer in our area and I still smile thinking of her addressing one of our mares, "Say, lady, you’ve got a rump like a quarter horse. Does that embarrass you?"

It was everyone’s great fortune that the folks at Carousel (Chuck & Deb’s barn in Lent Township) had been doing a lot of trail riding lately. In a matter of minutes, their indoor had been transformed into a temporary stable of pipe stalls. Charles and I headed over to Joyce’s place, where we found out that some jerk, panicked by the situation, had hit his gas instead of his breaks and had plowed into the trailer hauling Foxfire and Cora Barr. He totaled Joyce’s truck. Jekse Noordergraaf. D.V.M. said it was lucky that the big, fit horse, (Cora) was the one to take the impact. As it is, Cora is still has patches of hair missing on her face. The three of our horses with Joyce had to spend the night on the trailers as she was full up and it was 2 AM. Also, there was a very real threat that Joyce might have to vacate her place, just east of 35W, between Stacy and Wyoming. A fireman told us that our house was still standing, but that the D-9 had been poised to shove it in.

Jazz and another mare were stabled at Rick and Jody’s Giesse’s place, so that meant we had the herd spread out at four different farms the first night. We were grateful to crawl into an offered gooseneck’s sleeping quarters and crash. As it was, there were people spread all over Chuck and Deb’s, sleeping in the house, in trucks, in trailers. Dawn came, and still not knowing whether our place was in one piece, we made our way past roadblock after roadblock. I had a sensing of what it must have been like for the soldiers who fought in Vietnam: the smell of fire, the sound of bombers and helicopters, the roadblocks, the fear and the uncertainty. All our horses were safe, but would they have a home to return to? As we made our way into our place, we went past many areas still burning. It wasn’t until the last 200’ of road before our driveway that we were able to see that the barn was still standing.

The fire had burnt right up to the back steps of our house and all around the paddocks. Open flames were still burning in the woods. Time after time, helicopters swooped down and grabbed up hundred gallon pouches of water. The water bomber was diving on fires nearby. For a while, it would look as if the fire was under control and then, moments later, the smoke would billow up and take off again. As if conspiring with the dry conditions, the wind was relentless. Later, we found out that when the fire crossed the marsh and headed through our woods, it was a wall 30 feet high, traveling 60 MPH. It was easy to believe as all that was left the cattail marsh west of the paddocks was black char.

We began fighting the open fires still burning along our fence line. As we did so, we discovered the remains of a pumper truck deep in our woods, melted hoses spread over the ground, tires still burning. We saved a piece of melted aluminum from that truck as a reminder. All day long Friday, there was talk that the fire might leap 35W. Once we had done all we could to put out the fires, (I probably carried 100 gallons of water that day), we started making the rounds, checking on our herd. As we got to Chuck and Deb’s, the rigs were pulling out, on their way to evacuate Aux Chevaux, a Dressage barn to the east of us. At Jim and Ann Huddleston’s, we found Joey in high spirits, absolutely loving the excitement of "going visiting." It was a great relief that all the horses were doing well. That night, we slept in Joan and Scotty’s "Hilton" of a travel home. Saturday dawned to the fires still burning, but by mid-afternoon, the authorities were letting people return to their homes. We made the decision to bring the horses home. Everything that could burn, had and all the people helping us and everyone else needed a break. As we settled the horses in, Tom and Paulette Hume called. They had supper for us; we just had to come to the roadblock to pick it up! Sunday, Bill Dodds of Aerie Meadow Morgans helped us rebuild fence. That night, the rains began to everyone’s relief.

The next several days, helicopters kept "strafing" the farm, 6-8 times a day. Late, Wednesday afternoon, the head of the Linwood Fire Department showed up and explained why. The dump sites we had inherited when we bought our place were still burning. They wanted to bring in a D-9 and water cats and needed to know the best way to get to the sites. We figured out the best path was through the mare’s paddock and the next morning, the girls got locked into the outdoor arena. By 8 AM, at least a dozen people arrived to build a road to the fire. When the D-9 cut into the dumpsite, flames shot out. As it was, the water crawler made four trips carrying as much water as a good-sized swimming pool each time.

The snow has covered most of the burned marsh now, but the blackened bases of the trees serve as a reminder of just how bad it was. While I am deeply grateful for our horses’ calm and their adaptable Morgan temperaments, it was the people involved who have left me with a whole new perspective of what it means to be first a neighbor, second a horse person and third a Minnesotian. It was tough enough, just the way it played out. Without all the freely offered help that we received, half of our herd and all of our farm might not be with us today. As we enter the holiday season, I can not help but reflect upon the incredible qualities that so many horse people have, yet keep so "quiet" until called upon. Our thanks to all of you.

Cordia Pearson