onlookers were arriving by the minute. Everyone was there to help … but truly no one knew how to start. In my heart, I joined Troy in praying that this frightened young horse would trust him enough to “step up” with him.
Very gently, Troy began to ask the young horse to move forward toward the waiting box. To everyone’s great surprise, the colt lifted his left front foot … but not quite high enough. His effortwas rewarded with nothing more than banging his hoof against the rubber bumper of the trailer. Several times the youngster repeated this process with the same result. He was lifting his foot up … just not high enough to reach the trailer floor.
I knew what Troy was thinking. If he could just “show” the young horse how high to lift his foot, the colt would probably do the rest himself. In what is certainly a very dangerous maneuver, Troy began to run his hand down the back of the colt’s front leg. As the horse picked his foot up in response to the gentle pressure Troy applied … Troy moved his foot to the trailer floor.
In silence, Troy turned and just looked at me. I knew exactly what he was asking me to do. While gently raising my arms, I took several very measured steps toward the young stallion’s rump. He glanced at my approach and began to slightly cower in the hind end.
Troy hinted for him to come forward. The attentive colt slowly lifted up his other front foot. Now, both his front feet were inside the trailer.
Together, we paused to allow the youngster time to process this new accomplishment. While speaking only to the horse, Troy softly rubbed his neck and shoulder. After several moments, Troy glanced at me again; it was time. Again, I silently raised my arms and stepped toward the horse. Like a little Cub Scout going on his first outing, with ears up he hopped right into the trailer. I quickly closed the door in case he changed his mind. He didn’t. He seemed completely content to be in the space he was in. I let Troy slip out the back and secured the door for travel.
Upon noticing his new “bunkmate,” the giant stallion in the middle of the trailer announced that he would be the boss by bellowing with earsplitting volume. “That’s your cue!” I yelledto Troy, who was already in the truck cab preparing to leave. By putting the truck in its lowest gear and allowing it to literally inch forward, he shifted the concentration of all three of the stallions to their feet and staying balanced, instead of who would be king. While barely rolling forward, the trio of horses began to trailer like peaceful, four-legged peas in a pod.
The results of this tiny victory garnered an unexpected response. I watched in private awe as visible tension surrendered into visible relief. Many individuals were absently nodding in agreement as the full trailer pulled away. A few women even shared a high five, muffled by gloved hands. This is what we had all come for; this simple action was our uniting cause.
Troy, with a cowboy’s nod and a thumb’s up to me, was the first to leave this nightmarish site with a full trailer of “evacuees.” While waving back at my sweet man, I couldn’t help but feel deeply moved by his silent kindness and leadership. Choosing to stay behind, I would follow the fresh path that he had cleared and help organize the mass relocation that was to quickly follow.
The collective sparks of hope bolstered by this minor success ignited into an unstoppable flame. The door had been opened, now it was time to move forward, shoulder to shoulder. The volunteers began to lay aside their own “agendas” and come together as a team … a team that had a
big job
to do.
In that moment, I couldn’t help but realize that there are times in this life when it is not the most educated or skilled who are ultimately equipped to lead … sometimes it is the one who just simply steps forward. It is not enough to merely know what is right … we must
do
what is
Very gently, Troy began to ask the young horse to move forward toward the waiting box. To everyone’s great surprise, the colt lifted his left front foot … but not quite high enough. His effortwas rewarded with nothing more than banging his hoof against the rubber bumper of the trailer. Several times the youngster repeated this process with the same result. He was lifting his foot up … just not high enough to reach the trailer floor.
I knew what Troy was thinking. If he could just “show” the young horse how high to lift his foot, the colt would probably do the rest himself. In what is certainly a very dangerous maneuver, Troy began to run his hand down the back of the colt’s front leg. As the horse picked his foot up in response to the gentle pressure Troy applied … Troy moved his foot to the trailer floor.
In silence, Troy turned and just looked at me. I knew exactly what he was asking me to do. While gently raising my arms, I took several very measured steps toward the young stallion’s rump. He glanced at my approach and began to slightly cower in the hind end.
Troy hinted for him to come forward. The attentive colt slowly lifted up his other front foot. Now, both his front feet were inside the trailer.
Together, we paused to allow the youngster time to process this new accomplishment. While speaking only to the horse, Troy softly rubbed his neck and shoulder. After several moments, Troy glanced at me again; it was time. Again, I silently raised my arms and stepped toward the horse. Like a little Cub Scout going on his first outing, with ears up he hopped right into the trailer. I quickly closed the door in case he changed his mind. He didn’t. He seemed completely content to be in the space he was in. I let Troy slip out the back and secured the door for travel.
Upon noticing his new “bunkmate,” the giant stallion in the middle of the trailer announced that he would be the boss by bellowing with earsplitting volume. “That’s your cue!” I yelledto Troy, who was already in the truck cab preparing to leave. By putting the truck in its lowest gear and allowing it to literally inch forward, he shifted the concentration of all three of the stallions to their feet and staying balanced, instead of who would be king. While barely rolling forward, the trio of horses began to trailer like peaceful, four-legged peas in a pod.
The results of this tiny victory garnered an unexpected response. I watched in private awe as visible tension surrendered into visible relief. Many individuals were absently nodding in agreement as the full trailer pulled away. A few women even shared a high five, muffled by gloved hands. This is what we had all come for; this simple action was our uniting cause.
Troy, with a cowboy’s nod and a thumb’s up to me, was the first to leave this nightmarish site with a full trailer of “evacuees.” While waving back at my sweet man, I couldn’t help but feel deeply moved by his silent kindness and leadership. Choosing to stay behind, I would follow the fresh path that he had cleared and help organize the mass relocation that was to quickly follow.
The collective sparks of hope bolstered by this minor success ignited into an unstoppable flame. The door had been opened, now it was time to move forward, shoulder to shoulder. The volunteers began to lay aside their own “agendas” and come together as a team … a team that had a
big job
to do.
In that moment, I couldn’t help but realize that there are times in this life when it is not the most educated or skilled who are ultimately equipped to lead … sometimes it is the one who just simply steps forward. It is not enough to merely know what is right … we must
do
what is
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