Dream Morgans Survive Killer Flood
By Sue M. Brander

On Sunday, December 2, 2007, Terry Johnson and her grandson Lane were enjoying a rare wet snow at Dream Morgans, in Chehalis, Washington. The hills above the ranch lay deep in snow. Terry and Lane built a snowman that day. In the evening, Terry's son Patrick and his wife, Sarah, came to pick up Lane. By then, the snow had turned over to a driving rain, and the snow on the ground was melting. The weather was so bad, Patrick and Sarah considered staying overnight, but decided to drive the forty miles back home.

A warm front came through, and the rain pelted the Johnson home. Terry and her husband, Brinden, were alone on the ranch now, and they knew if the rains continued, the Chehalis River tributary that winds through their property would rise. They had seen it happen before, but they were totally surprised by what happened on this night. They awoke from fitful sleep at about 1:00 A.M., and Brinden took a flashlight out and looked at the river. To their consternation, it was already lapping at the I-beams on the bridge that connects their property to the main road. Brinden decided to move the truck and the car across the bridge and park it on the other side.

By 2:30 A.M., the river had breeched its banks and water flooded their carport. Terry and Brinden began moving furniture on top of furniture, and taking things upstairs. By 3:00, the water was in the house. Terry said, "Brinden, we have to stop. If it's in the house, I know it's deep in the barn." Their ten Morgans were in the barn. They pulled on boots and waded out toward the barn. Terry, who is five foot two, was thigh high in water.

"We opened gates in the dark," Terry said. "We had lights in the barn, and we could see the horses inside. We did not have time to lead them individually through the gates. We needed to let them go. We had to open the stall doors against the pressure of the water. Those two babies could feel that pressure on their legs. And they just walked out. It was impressive, how brave they were. We haltered the horses and put them out in small groups of three, hoping the lead mare would take them out the proper gate to find high ground. We knew there were high spots out there, where they'd be safe." Scandia's Paprika was the lead mare in the first group of three and she took her little band to higher ground.

When they had turned all the mares and the two weanlings out, they realized one group had not made it through the gate, and they came back toward the paddocks near the barn. Scandia's Moonbeam was the lead mare, and she had two weanlings and a gelding clinging to her. "I put a halter on Moonbeam, " Terry recalled. "Brinden got in the old farm truck, which was up to the wheels in water, and turned on the headlights, aiming them toward the gate. I led Moonbeam to the gateway, and stood beside her, while Brinden searched for the other three with a flashlight. I could hear them running through the water. They missed the gate and ran by. The second time, Moonbeam called to them, like she was saying, 'This way!' " On the third pass, they found her and Terry turned Moonbeam loose. She led the little herd to high ground, joining the others.

Only the stallion, Scandia's Carribean Blue, remained in the barn, now. Terry had to make a decision about what to do with him. He had never been turned out with mares and foals. Terry decided to take him out of the stall and put him in a front paddock, which was on slightly higher ground, where he could see and hear his herd. "I didn't expect the water to get any higher," she said. "It was incredible as it was."

Blue called when the herd left. Now, he stood very quiet in his stall. "When I came back after turning the herd out into open land, he stood in the back corner and did not come forward," Terry said. "It was the first time he hasn't come forward to get a halter on. I went to him and put his halter on. The stall mats were up above his knees and floating. We bumped and moved mats as we walked out of the stall and I led him to higher ground in the paddock. He could hear the other horses, and he called to them."

By now it was 3:30 A.M., and the power in the barn had gone out. Brinden moved the farm truck to higher ground. Terry gave Blue some hay and two buckets of water, and started back to the house. The water seemed to have stopped rising, but the current was much stronger. As the couple waded toward the house, they were pummeled by debris slamming against their legs. Only then did they realize they could not go to the barn again until the waters subsided. "I thought I could move him after the other horses settled," Terry said. "I never thought I wouldn't be able to get back out there. I never would have left him."

They waited forever for daylight to come. They now had no power and no phone. They spent the rest of the night saving the contents of the house. When daylight broke, they could see that the water had risen, it was murkier, the current was stronger, and there was more debris than ever. But there was one glimmer of good news. The river had split into three branches, one on each side of the barn and one through the barn entry. Blue was protected from the water in the barn because he was on higher ground. "We knew he was standing in water," she said, "but there was no way we could go out there, because it did not let up until 3:00 Monday afternoon. He had been standing in water for almost twelve hours. There were some branches in the paddock. The gate was a pipe gate. But the front of the barn provided some protection from the sweep of the current."

The couple ran from window to window, trying to determine whether the water was sinking or still rising. "I had a gage, and he had a different gage," Terry recalled. "I'd say, 'I think it's still coming up.' He thinks it's steady. We later realized that his gage was a deck on the opposite side of the barn, and it was now actually floating. It was, indeed, still rising. The mud and debris were overwhelming." Fate provided another lucky break. Because of all the mud and the current, they were unable to open the main doors of the barn completely. They were open about four or five feet. Debris built up in front of these doors, creating a kind of dam. Silt deposits reinforced the dam. The river went over the dam, but they could see it was dropping downward into the barn. The water was lower in the barn. Nature had formed a kind of sandbag dam, which protected Blue's paddock from the full force of the floodwaters.

At 3:00 in the afternoon, twelve hours after they had left Blue, Terry said, "We have no choice. We have to get him out of that water." They could not open stall doors in the barn because of the silt and debris. They decided to take him out a gate behind the barn and lead him to a trailer that was parked on higher ground. Brinden walked the area twice, to see where it was safe to step without sinking in. "Brinden walked in front of us, telling me where to step," Terry said. "I fell down. The mud clings to you and you can't move. I was mired. Blue lifted me out of the mud. The most treacherous part was in front of the trailer door. He sunk down before he could step up into the trailer. But he leapt right in with me. I had to leave him loose in the trailer. At least he was dry, for the first time in twelve hours." Blue spent that night in the trailer. Terry was able to get to him with hay and fresh water, and check on him regularly.

The wind came up in the night, howling through the trailer and the house. Without power or phone, Terry and Brinden had no idea what was going on in the world beyond them. They were marooned.

When dawn broke Tuesday morning, they could see five of the herd out back through binoculars. Gradually, they were all accounted for. Although they could not yet get hay to the herd, they felt blessed. All the horses had survived the flood. The water began to recede, leaving only puddles and a sea of mud. Terry was desperate to get Blue out of the trailer. There was not a single pasture that was completely fenced. The raging waters had breeched every turnout. They went into the barn and dug out the silt bar by hand. They put bedding palettes on the floor and pitched hay bales out of the loft to absorb the water. Finally, they were able to return Blue to his paddock.

Meanwhile, Patrick and Sarah were desperate to reach the farm. Using back roads and logging roads, they were able to drive twenty of the forty miles. Then there were so many bridges destroyed, they set out on foot. They hiked and hitchhiked the rest of the way. They brought a cell phone and backpacks filled with sandwiches and provisions. "Patrick and Sarah cried with us, as we surveyed the farm," Terry recalled. "Our cars were fine, but the bridge was demolished, holding on by a thread and teetering. The barn sagged. There is mud everywhere."

Then Patrick and Sarah pitched in and helped them dig out Blue's stall. They lugged hay up to his paddock, as a staging area to reach the horses on the high ground. By late morning, they were hauling hay up to the other horses. "We got to look them over," Terry said. "They were all there, and incredibly bonded. There was no fussing or competition over that hay. They were happy to see us and happy to be together with hay."

With the horses fed, they began to create an imaginary electric fence. They didn't want the horses to return to the barn because it was such a danger zone, with posts sticking out everywhere and debris strewn about. "We strung a roll of wire and hoped they would think it was hot wire," Terry laughed.

In the afternoon, the family set out to get Patrick and Sarah back to their vehicle, traveling the same route they had come. Terry and Brinden were shocked at what they saw. Dead horses hanging from fences, dead cows everywhere, and sheep floating in puddles. "We realized how fortunate we really were," she said. " There was so much loss. Six people died that night. Others were rescued from roof tops. We had the upstairs. Some houses were swept away. One dairy farmer lost sixty cows. A thoroughbred farm lost all but one of their horses. Their homes are boarded up, and they have not returned."

Terry phoned Nancy Jewell in Idaho, and asked for her help to get the horses out. "I was using the cell phone, and reception was iffy," she said. "It was cold, and I had to find a good place. I remember telling her the horses aren't safe here, and they can't stay here. I needed to find places for them fast.

"That's all it took," Terry continued. "One phone call. Nancy Jewell organized places for ten horses and all the trailers it took to move the horses. And it happened in a matter of days. I think I called her on Wednesday or Thursday, and they came for the horses the following Monday."

Nancy Jewell remembered the sheer frustration of the day Terry called. She was at a dog show in a nearby town, but she was hours from her horse trailer. She contacted Trafalgar Training Center in Walla Walla, Washington. Daryl Hopson and Greg Ferguson contacted friends and clients and organized a trailer convoy. Over the next few days, Michelle Osburn coordinated the logistics of moving and placing the horses. They came through sleet and snow, many hours on the road. Mitch and Susan Williams, and Joe and Gailene Mast came on Sunday and took the first two horses, walking the long path in an ice and snow storm. The following day Daryl Hopson, Greg Ferguson, Doug and Brenda Coats, David and Kim Shahon, and Janette Breshears arrived with halters and lead ropes to take the remaining horses.

They had to come through a logging road at the back of the property. They parked the trailers in the rutted road, so deeply gouged in places that the water was knee high. They walked in half a mile through a back pasture. "These people took a huge leap of faith to come in there," Terry said. "We knew that was the only way we could get the horses out." Terry watched with tears in her eyes, as they walked the horses through the mud to the waiting trailers.

"Blue was the hardest to let go," she said softly. "He stood in his paddock and saw all his mares and foals led away, and he had no idea where they were going. When they were all loaded, we went back for Blue. He let me put a halter on him. He was cautious at first. As we got nearer the other horses, and he could hear them, he got more and more anxious. He was confused and upset. His whole world had come to an end."

Then Terry's mind did a fast forward to the present. Blue went to the farm of Doug and Brenda Coates in Bend, Oregon. "Brenda has been wonderful," Terry said. "She stays in contact with me. Blue settled in very quickly. It's a wonderful place for him. She says he is very mannerly, and she just loves him." Terry hopes to make the four-and-a-half hour journey to visit Blue while he's with Brenda.

Nancy Jewell and her posse of Morgan owners were not the only people quick on their feet that week. Kathy DeFazio immediately opened a bank account where people could send donations to help the Johnson's rebuild Dream Morgans. Dori Steckley made her Pay Pal account available for donations. Postings on a few internet lists and the AMHA website brought donations pouring in from Morgan owners across the nation. This happened even as Terry was calling Nancy Jewell.

Marian Grimes, an internet friend who lives in Massachusetts, contacted the Pacific Northwest Morgan Horse Association and galvanized them into awareness that one of their own needed help.

"You know, it's just amazing," Terry mused. "Just like a family, the Morgan organizations can squabble over all kinds of things. But I would like people to know the amount of love and help and support the Morgan people have come together to do for us, no matter what their differences. We have been blessed with help from people all over the United States and even Canada. People we don't even know. It's just unbelievable. It's humbling. I've never taken donations from people before.

"Even with all the Morgan Horse differences, this has happened, and that truth needs to be shared," Terry continued. "People who don't always agree on everything came together to help us. Politics doesn't matter. The natural giving is what happened here. Maybe they can all relate in some way because of their Morgans. One day I hope to thank every single person who helped us in this time."

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To send a donation to Dream Morgans, make your check out to SHCFCU, Account Number 997054. In the memo line, write Flood Fund. Include a note with your name or farm name, and address. Kathy DeFazio will keep a record so Terry can send acknowledgements later. Mail your donation to:
Flood Fund
Box 658
St. Helens, Oregon, 97051.

Because Dream Morgans was so devastated by this flood, the broodmares are available for lease this year. Young stock and show horses are for sale. For details, see Dreammorgans.com.