What's Your Plan?

I was going to write about lead changes, as requested, but had quite the deal at work today.
I was working Pete in the upper arena, and halfway watching a storm build behind me.
Pete is a pretty fancy, awfully cool, bay gelding. He's bred, has the look, and figures if he doesn't try too hard he can live with me forever.
Since I'm big on the "make the wrong thing difficult" concept, I spend a lot of time trying to convince Pete it would suck to live with me forever. (although after reading Fugs blog today, I figure they should ALL live with me forever)
So we were working through some pretty tough flexibility exercises.
Pete takes my total attention when I'm convincing him he needs to move on in life. He is so determined to stay with me that he will do whatever he deems necessary to make me see the light.
"Oh, you meant stop, as in Whoa?" He says.
"Back there? Really? All the way back there?"
Another favorite is, "Oh, you meant turn THAT cow. I see. Well, maybe tomorrow."
The problem with Pete is that he's also a believer in the "make the wrong thing difficult" system. If he doesn't think I'm picking up on his cues quick enough, he has no problem following through with a pretty tasty buck fest.
So it pays to be alert while riding Pete.
Which is why I failed to notice that storm piling up right over my head.
Until the light went white and my ears were split by one of the biggest cracks of thunder I had heard in a long time.
I was out of the saddle, and Pete and I were blowing into the barn before the black dots quit swimming around my eyes. We didn't quite beat all five of the barn dogs in, but we tried.
I was waiting out the rain, in the office, when the boss called.
"Is my place on fire?" She asked.
"I don't know, I'm sitting in the barn. Pete and I almost got our butts fried."
"I've had about five phone calls telling me my place is on fire."
"Let me go look." I said.
I went outside and immediately smelled smoke.
I kept walking and looking, and couldn't find anything. Just as I was going to report the all clear, I saw a thick black cloud of smoke across the road.
"Oh yeah, there it is." I said, just as the fire trucks started blasting up the hill.
"It's right across the street. There's flames about 100 yards from here."
"I'm on my way." The boss said.
I knew I had about 15 minutes before she could show up. The other boss, or Mr. Boss, wouldn't be able to get here any sooner.
A neighbor pulled in and said, "Do we need to move stock?"
"I think we're OK." I said. "The wind's in our favor, and it's back behind the hill."
"Look down at the broodmare pasture." She pointed.
I looked down, and across the way, and saw flames from another fire moving at a pretty good lick towards our pasture.
I started looking behind us for an escape route right about then.
We have about 35 head on our place, not including cattle.
Our three pastures are linked in a row, south to north.
I figured I could move the two and three year olds to the cow pasture. Then I could bring the broodmares from across the street, under the bridge, and into the newly emptied two year old pasture.
If the fire looked like it was going to jump the road, I would lead the stalled horses, the studs, and the momma/baby pairs north to the neighbors field.
Then I was going to start cutting fence and moving each set of horses into the next northern field, and continue leap frogging them until I felt they were safe. I hoped the dogs would stick with me.
I figured we could have a helluva barbecue with what was left of the cattle. I wasn't planning on coming back for them.
The only horses I would have to lead were the studs, stalled horses, and the pairs. The rest I would bring the old fashioned way, with a can of grain.
By the time the neighbor and I had started to implement my plan the bosses showed up.
So did a bunch more fire trucks. The police closed off our road and the highway leading to it. The news crews started showing up.
We got the two and threes in with the cattle, and the broodmares under the bridge and across the road. The can of grain worked fine. I wonder how a carrot stick would have worked in that situation?
The only problem was Annie, my grandma mare. (34 and counting) She came when we called, but very slowly. Then she got confused and started to wander back. I had to halter her and lead her to the rest of the herd. I had a horrible jolt when I realized she's almost blind. My good mare Loki came and took her to the other mares.
The wind stayed in our favor, and the wonderful volunteer fire department got the fire under control.
We didn't have to find out how the neighbors would have felt about our studs rampaging through not only our horses, but theirs as well. Hee hee.
We were lucky.
My emergency last minute plan was pretty good.
We're going to refine it for the future. I spend most of my time at work alone.
I have to have a clear plan in my head.
Next time, I'm going to put the dogs in my car, and drive through the fields to the nearest neighbor. Then, I can head back if possible, after I park the dogs and car, hopefully with help.
All of our horses need to be halter broke. Every one.
I'm going to ride Annie as I move the separate groups. I think she'll be able to keep up if I'm there to help her.
The cows can either come with me and Annie, or plan on being at the barbecue.
Annie let out a heart wrenching nicker, and put her forehead against my chest, when she realized it was me who had come back to get her.
Even in the chaos I automatically put my hand up to rub her poll and talk to her a little.
I guess I do whisper once in a while.
So what's your plan?
What will you do if all hell breaks out and you have a finite amount of time to save your horses?
Where will you put them?
The boss and I are working on an evacuation plan as we speak.
The neighbors were amazing. I heard there were 15 trailers hitched and ready to come.
So what's your plan?