An Early Morning Scare

So in this picture, Maggie seems unconcerned and is preoccupied by the common horse behavior of grazing. This presents a very different picture than just a mere hour or so earlier...
I emerged from the house at about 6:15, bucket of horse food in one hand, accompanied by my beloved Robin the Good who was providing escort. I had just gone through the gate when Robin began to bark; I assumed she had spotted turkeys or a deer in the field. But it was unusual that Maggie wasn't at the fence, waiting for her breakfast. She does like to eat her grain and most typically greets my early morning feed with lusty whinnies and sometimes even a buck or gallop or two. I checked the barn and didn't see her there and was wondering where she had gotten to when I spied a green lump in the middle of the field near a brush heap. The green lump, of course, was her form swaddled in her lighter winter blanket. (See above photo).
My first thought was, "Good grief! Maggie has gone and died!" I mean, she is elderly and will disembark for that giant paddock in the sky sometime soon. (You will remember that my ex-blacksmith thought she should be put down last winter. She's had a whole year more to live, in relative horse bliss; getting brushed and fed and generally doing low key things.) I approached her singing her name and trying not to scare her if she was merely sleeping.
But as I got closer, I realized that she was in an awkward position, lying on the ground with her feet uphill from her back and head so that if she tried to rise, she was fighting against the weight of her body. I went downhill and stroked her head and said her name and her eyes opened and she tried to get up again but just couldn't. She tried several terrifying times to stand. I started calculating in my head just how many neighbors I'd need to round up to help her regain her feet. ( Horses sometimes get "cast" in their stalls, with their legs up against a wall. They need serious help to right themselves or can hurt themselves and die. With the assistance of ropes, you can right them, but it takes strength and luck!)
I started back up the hill, considering the odds of Maggie being unhurt. But as I got to the gate, I turned and saw... MAGGIE upright and coming to get her grain. Don't ask me how she finally managed to gain her footing, but she proceeded to walk in a normal fashion- no limping or anything- and made a bee line for her grain.
I examined her but there were no cuts or swellings or abrasions... boy was she lucky. Boy was I lucky! I gave her a "bute" (the horsey equivalent advil) and took the picture above, but she had apparently already forgotten her earlier struggle and didn't seem to understand why I was fussing over her. Well, she scared the hell out of me- and too early in the morning! But Maggie is a tough old bird.