East Palestine livestock owners race to protect their animals after train derailment

SOniya Early says she will work when she talks. This helps keep her hands from going numb.

It’s below freezing, and the barn at the Early Equine Center just outside East Palestine, ohioprovides adequate shelter for horsesThere isn’t much heat for its human inhabitants.

Ms. Early, who boards horses and teaches horsemanship and horse care at the center, breaks down the stallion of a horse named “Doc Holliday” as she recalls the night a Norfolk Southern train jumped the rails and The latter experienced terror when his son disappeared. Accident.

On February 3, Ms. Early was in Florida with her granddaughter and husband, where she was visiting a family member. Her 16-year-old son was left behind in the family home just outside the border with eastern Palestine.

Friends at her home called Ms. Early to report the news; There has been an accident, and people are being evacuated.

Ms. Early’s home is about two miles from the crash site – which puts it outside the mandatory one-mile evacuation zone, which is why it struck her as strange at first when she called her son and got no answer. Then it got annoying.

He called again, and still there was no answer. Worry crept in. The mind wanders from worst to worst. She kept calling.

A few hours later, the tension broke—her son replied. He was safe, and told his mother that he had gone with his girlfriend in high school to help resettle people who had been evicted from the village.

“It was only a few hours, but for a mother, you know, it feels like a lifetime,” she said.

One crisis averted, another bigger one is yet to come.

Two days later, the city announced that it would blow up and burn the train’s cargo – flammable vinyl chloride – to prevent it from detonating.

Miss Early had not yet returned from Florida when she learned of the plan. She will be spared the black mushroom cloud – “the controlled nook of our city”, as she describes it – that looms over the city, but her horses will not. This was not acceptable.

“I didn’t want my horses out in any of that,” she said.

Early Equine Center near East Palestine, Ohio

(Greg Graziosi)

She panicked, calling anyone she knew in the area who might be able to help.

“I have a great network of friends with horses with trailers who also work in this industry,” she said.

His friends came; Ms. Early’s 11 horses, two dogs and a bird were evacuated, first to the Columbiana County Fairgrounds a few miles away, and later in Butler, Pennsylvania, when a state trooper told friends that the area of ​​effect of the burn was 16 Will be- mile radius.

Across the street at Reedy’s Hog & Beef Farm, Tammy Reedy and her husband, Dave, were doing their best to keep their animals from collapsing.

In addition to Titanic hogs and beef, Ready’s also sells animal products made from ducks and chickens – including eggs – and raises turkeys, goats and donkeys. Ms Radi said the couple’s business is largely word-of-mouth, and they sell what they harvest back to East Palestine.

On the night of the burning, the couple moved as many animals as possible into their barn. They knew it wasn’t airtight, but it was the best they could do at short notice.

“We thought we would surely lose the animals [on the night of the burn], ” Ms. Ready said. “So far we’re doing well, we’re trying to see him and we check in on him daily to see how he’s doing. Our calves are being born, the baby goats are due any day now, and it’s a big concern right now.”

Since then, the couple has been monitoring the health of the animals. so far so good. They – and Ms. Early – are more concerned about the water.

If the groundwater – the water they use to feed their animals – is contaminated, it could reduce their ability to work on the property.

“I mean it would be a terrible loss if we lost the animals, but they can eventually be replaced,” Ms Reidy said. “But still it is a question – does [the groundwater] contaminate animals? Does it contaminate their flesh?”

Back across the street, a bone-chilling wind sends spiral wads of snow sliding across the sidewalk. Ms. Early’s horses are decked out in multicolored blankets grazing on the farm’s sacrificial pasture. They don’t mind the cold.

Two days after the vent and burn, Ms. Early returned her horses safely to the barn. But what had changed?

Ms. Early walks to the back of her property and points to a shallow ditch behind her barn. The train tracks running through the center of East Palestine run directly behind his property.

Sonia Early, owner of the Early Equine Center near East Palestine, Ohio, checks out the Norfolk Southern tracks behind her property

(Greg Graziosi)

“It’s frustrating — even infuriating — to me, that it wasn’t sooner than we got the horses back home that trains started running here again,” she said. “They used to fly from here.”

Her husband, Steve, had lost three days of work at a crane service provider that ran on property adjacent to the equine center, but it appeared the railroads were already back in business.

Ms Early and her neighbors noted that since the accident many Norfolk Southern trains running through the village have been traveling very slowly.

This is a clear distinction. But there were more subtle changes. Both she and her husband began experiencing symptoms, and the couple began hearing stories of eagles and hawks being found dead.

“I’ve had a runny nose ever since all this happened. My husband’s eyes were itchy. In fact, the day we came back, both our eyes were burning. We thought maybe we were tired. have happened, but it remains.

In the coming weeks — maybe months, maybe longer — they’ll be monitoring. monitoring the health of the horses, monitoring water quality, monitoring his and his family’s well-being and monitoring how the outside world views the East Palestine village.

“Here’s our great concern,” he said, “we had a company that was willing to lease [the Early’s adjacent property], Would anyone want to come in and run the business now? They don’t want to buy houses, they don’t want to bring their businesses to the city. I have a five-year-old granddaughter and am scared to death.”