KNYSNA: Remembering the 2017 fires - Karen Rademeyer, Knysna:

Standing on the verge of a highway is pretty scary. For an animal with no road sense and severely limited vision it must be downright terrifying. And yet, there he was. Making his way home, 16 days after the fire.

On 7 June 2017, Cody, along with four other ponies (Cheeky, Bella, Mila and Déjà Vu), had been sent across the N2 and into a plantation. Most of our horses had already been boxed to safety while our farm was burning, and sending the pony herd across the N2 was a last resort as the flames encroached on our farm gate. We expected the N2 would form a fire break, and along with the wind direction at the time, the plantation seemed the safest option.

Nothing we could do
However, the winds turned shortly after our evacuation, the fire crossed the N2, and the intended refuge for our ponies was soon ablaze. Our hearts sank and we felt completely helpless. Our family – human and animal - was scattered. We had no communication. There was nothing we could do but pray.

The days that followed still feel surreal. I struggle to remember the order of things – but I will never forget the kindness of people.

Fresh prints, found four days after their release, provided evidence that some of the ponies had emerged from the far side of the plantation. Two had made their way over the Buffalo Bay Road towards the Goukamma River, where their tracks were destroyed by converging cattle. We continued to search daily, shared on social media, and followed up on every possible lead.

Help came from all over
People were amazing! They came from all over to assist – on foot, on bike, by car and by air, flying planes, helicopters and drones whenever possible. Everyone wanted those ponies safe.

One would have expected Cody’s emergence from a blackened plantation, on the morning of Friday 23 June, to be cause for celebration. But it was far from that at the time. In fact, some passers-by who saw him standing next to the N2 – thin, burnt and seemingly blind, describe it as one of their most traumatic fire-related experiences. I wasn’t home when Cody was spotted, but based on the sobbing and condolences on the other end of a sudden stream of calls, I knew it was bad.

I arrived home to a wave of tears, hugs, and more condolences as I tried to make my way to Cody. I was told he couldn’t see, eat or drink. I was told he wasn’t going to make it.

Back, but barely recognisable
And there he was. Standing all alone at the bottom of our unburnt garden, still trembling. Barely recognisable.

Nothing could have prepared me for that moment, and I recall the feeling of nausea, as the intensity of what he had been through suddenly hit me. I’d had my heart set on a happy homecoming for all of the ponies. But in that moment, all I felt was disappointment, sadness – and overwhelming guilt over that fact that I hadn’t been able to protect them from the fire. I certainly didn’t want to be responsible for any further suffering.

And yet, there was something about the way Cody turned his head towards me as I approached him. An air of triumph, and an inner strength that was so powerful it couldn’t be ignored. It was as though he was saying: “I’m here! I made it!”

A pony with a will to survive
Suddenly, it occurred to me how much it had taken for Cody to make his way home. How strong his mind was. I could literally feel his will to survive as he started walking around the garden, and though he moved with extreme care, I could see that he had some vision. It was in that moment that everything changed. Despair gave way to determination. Cody deserved a fighting chance and I would fight beside him.

Our dear friend and vet, Dr Wendy Tait, agreed to help us. The first few days were critical, as Cody’s digestive system had all but shut down. He hadn’t eaten or passed a stool for some time, and he was severely dehydrated. But we hadn’t named him Code Badger for nothing. Cody showed us exactly what he was made of – and every milestone reached was a celebration, and a relief.

Helping wildlife along the way
The weeks that followed were a blur of emotional roller coastering and physical exhaustion. When I wasn’t with Cody, we were looking for his friends. Every fruitless search was deeply disappointing; however, we were provided with many opportunities to help wildlife in the process, rescuing injured tortoises and a forest buzzard named Smokey, and leaving food and water for animals in need. Our efforts were never in vain, as the searching for four resulted in the helping of many more. We also made incredible new friends in the process.

Each day presented new challenges, but also new triumphs. Cody strengthened daily, but got really stroppy about treatment. I was often reduced to tears of frustration –begging, pleading, reasoning and bargaining with him to “just work with me”.

I often had to back off and walk away to give us both some breathing space. At the same time, I could never discount the fact that Cody’s fighting off of weird-smelling lotions, potions, eye drops, needles and ointments was a really good sign of his returning health and strength.

Cody's survival a miracle
Amid the intensity of Cody’s treatment, finding the bodies of Cheeky and Bella was incredibly sad – for us and for those assisting with our searches and supporting us from afar. But it brought closure and peace, for which we are so very grateful. It also put into perspective the miracle of Cody’s survival. Cody’s sisters Mila and Déjà Vu still remain unaccounted for. And yes, I do believe they are still alive.

A year down the line, Cody is doing amazingly well. He is happy, healthy and playful, with a new lease of life. He is also more trusting and affectionate than he was before the fire. He needs extra care and consideration, and he expresses his gratitude accordingly.

Custom-made UV-resistant masks with rigid eye protection were sent to him from America. I am told every stitch was done with the utmost love and care for their hero. The masks look odd, but they do a good job of protecting his sensitive skin and his eyes, which will never look quite normal. According to vets, it’s a miracle that he has eyes at all. Our precious pony can see, smell, feel, hear, eat, run and play, and as long as he’s happy, we’re happy with that!

An inspiration to many
Cody is an inspiration to so many. He has become a shining example of what it means to be brave enough to get help when you need it, no matter how difficult or how hopeless a situation might seem. His story has been shared all over the world and he has touched the hearts of thousands. He is also doing important work as our ambassador in a new initiative aimed at helping children and animals – and it’s all thanks to the kindness of our community.

Being a part of Cody’s healing has been an incredible experience. We have been showered with love, support and encouragement from all over the world and we have so much to be grateful for. I was initially in two minds about sharing some of the harder parts of our journey in this story, as much of it is deeply personal. However, I feel it puts into context just how important and appreciated your support, as our community, has been.

Hundreds to thank
I unfortunately cannot thank everyone by name, as there are hundreds of you – and some I have yet to meet.

So thank you, to the people of Knysna and beyond. For your love, your support, your prayers and your care. For turning out en masse and for going well out of your way to help search for our ponies. For products, blankets, feed, financial and medical assistance. Thank you to all those who helped with our other horses when they were temporarily displaced. Those who kept our cats safe. And to all those brave souls who were there for us during the fires, helping to box most of our horses to safety, under very stressful conditions. I remain humbled, and forever indebted.

Thank you, for being the amazing community that you are.

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