By Joey Manos
©Voice, May 2007

August 29th 2005- was the costliest and one of the deadliest days in the history of the United States. This was the day that Hurricane Katrina devastated the coast of Louisiana and Mississippi. The storm surge caused severe and catastrophic damage along the Gulf coast, devastating the cities of Bay St. Louis, Waveland, Biloxi/Gulfport in Mississippi, Mobile, Alabama, and Slidell, Chalmette and New Orleans, Louisiana. Levees separating Lake Pontchartrain and several canals from New Orleans were breached, subsequently flooding 80% of the city and many areas of neighboring parishes for weeks.

In the midst of all this turmoil is where this saga begins. He was born July 19th, 1992 in the Quachita River delta of northern Louisiana. He was a cajun and true southern gentleman, born in the south and never leaving the south. He was the cherished, pride and joy of Reverend M.O. Martin. His registered name was Eb’s Stormin’ Around but he was called Stormy by all that knew and loved him.

Stormy was a majestic Tennessee Walking Horse. He had a regal air about him that demanded, “look at me”. Though he was a stallion and had no issues about sharing that information, his kind and gentle demeanor drew people to him. He played like a puppy, rearing and jumping around and loving the pats and praises of the man that raised him and loved him like a child. At the age of 80 Reverend Martin was still riding his favoirite mount Stormy. I can remember like it was yesterday, he and Stormy together. I asked him if he wanted something to stand on. His reply was, “that’s for old people”. Stormy would stretch out far enough for him to put his foot in the stirrup and swing up. It was an awesome site watching that distinguished, gray haired man and that young stallion. It was poetry in motion. They moved together as one. The slightest shift of weight was a cue. When that deep, soft voice called, “canter”, Stormy automatically rolled into the most beautiful rocking chair canter. I remember standing there, shaking my head with a smile on my face, hoping that some day I could be half that comfortable with a horse.

That was their last ride. Two weeks later, Reverend Martin was admitted into the hospital and diagnosed with terminal cancer. A short two months later he passed from this life. But, there was not a day that I spoke to him that he did not ask about his horse. The care and welfare of Stormy was paramount in his mind. Upon his passing, Stormy was retired to pasture on my uncle’s plantation in the Lower New Orleans area.

No one had any idea that the hurricane would be as bad as it was. There had never been anything even remotely that devastating. The women and children were evacuated but many of the men stayed back to protect their homes from the vandals that seemed to thrive on other’s calamities. When the levy broke, flooding St Bernard Parish, there was barely enough time to get out before the waters were insurmountable. There was no time to hook up the horse trailer. There was no time to do anything but get out. Like the thousands of other horses and animals in that area, Stormy was left to fight the storm alone. The storm raged, the waters rose and we cried. There was no way it could be helped. Stormy was gone.

It was four days before helicopters and rescue crews got back into that area. Late one evening, a man on one of the boats thought he saw movement and went to check it out. It was a horse. Upon further discovery he found that the horse was standing on a building of some sort. Due to the lightness of the boat, the lack of help and the fact that the horse was extremely weak, hay was brought in and the horse spent yet another night in the water. Knowing the area and those that lived there prompted a call to my uncle. The description of the horse matched Stormy. When it was explained where he was, my uncle determined that he must be standing on the old chicken barn that was in the field behind the house. Stormy was saved. Rescue workers got him to high ground and he was taken to one of the rescue shelters in Gonzales.

I wish that was all of the story. I wish I could say that “they lived happily ever after”. But, that is not quite the case. Before any of us could get to the shelter, someone else identified him as their horse and took him. To this day, it is unclear as to who got him or where he went. Family and friends scoured the countryside looking for him, to no avail. We thought, maybe he wasn’t saved after all. Days were spent covering miles of area finding the bodies of literally hundreds of horses but, no Stormy. The fact that we believe he is alive is comforting to some degree but, we want him home. I know that there might be hundreds of horses that match his description but, he has a tattoo under his top lip and several pretty bad barbed wire scars all the way around on both front feet.

The family is offering a $1,000 reward for information resulting in the safe return of our beloved Stormy. If you have him or have seen him, please help us get him home.