05/04/2026
Ori “did a dumb” … but also did what horses do.
Sometimes, even the smartest, kindest horses act on pure instinct—and that instinct can get them into serious trouble.
Yesterday was one of those moments.
Anna called Andrew in a panic saying there was an emergency. She couldn’t reach me (my old phone only works on WiFi), so we had no idea what we were walking into. Human? Horse? Building Collapse? Injury? How bad?
You never really know in those moments—you just go.
What we found was Ori.
Freezing rain had started sliding off the roof of the indoor arena, and the noise and movement sent him into a full panic. It literally sounded like 1000s to glasses shattering as sections slid off the roof. In his mind, he was doing the right thing—trying to escape danger. But in that blind instinct, he tried to climb the 8-foot stall walls.
And got his hoof trapped.
When I walked in, he was thrashing—terrified, stuck, and at real risk of seriously injuring himself. Anna had already started trying to take apart the wall. Andrew immediately made the call to grab the grinder so we could cut the panel if needed.
I told Anna to call the vet.
And then—everything slowed down.
In emergencies, the most important thing you can do is stay calm. Horses feed off energy, and panic only escalates panic. You have to pause, assess, make a plan, and act.
I moved around him, watching how his hoof was caught. I knew I couldn’t just force him up, the panel was too tight I couldn’t remove the pin that attached them, and while I waited for Andrew to get back I wondered if changing the angle of the panel might give him just enough room to get free—if I could create even a little bit of space…
Between his movement and adjusting the panel just enough—he freed himself before Andrew even made it back with the grinder.
And just like that, the crisis shifted.
Ori was shaken, in shock, soaked from dumping his water bucket, and lathered in sweat—but he was standing. I walked up slowly, talking to him, putting my hands on him, grounding him until he could come back down from the panic. We got a halter on and started assessing.
Somehow—his hoof was intact.
A few minor scuffs. That’s it.
Honestly, it could have been so much worse. All the possible “what ifs” went through my head - when you’ve been around horses and in vet medicine long enough you see some pretty horrific injuries - but thankfully Ori was going to get added to the “very lucky” list and not the “unlucky” list.
We cleaned and disinfected everything right away, wrapped his leg, and waited for the vet. When he arrived, Ori got a full assessment, sedation, meds, and a deeper clean to be safe.
We even pulled out the blower to dry him off—because of course the temperature was dropping rapidly and between being soaked, in shock and the potential of being chilled we didn’t want a sick horse. And through all of it?
He was a 10/10 good boy.
Moments like this are a reminder: horses aren’t being “bad” when they panic—they’re surviving. Their instincts are powerful, fast, and sometimes dangerous in human environments.
Our job is to meet that chaos with calm.
To think clearly.
To act deliberately.
To be the steady presence when everything else feels out of control.
Because sometimes, that’s what makes the difference.
