Taking the lead

As featured Sept. 15, 2012, at www.cnjonline.com

When you let your child follow you with the grocery cart, it’s usually not a matter of “if,” but more a matter of “when” you will feel the inevitable impact on your heels.
Much the same, only to a larger degree of severity, having a 900-pound animal stepping in your shadow can be a little unsettling.
With nothing but a single, symbolic rope between you and said animal, it is natural to wonder, “what if he takes off?” “What if he steps sideways?”
Leading a horse is one of those simple little tasks that are easily taken for granted and dismissed — one of those tasks that those who work with horses never think a thing of.
But for someone who’s never walked with a horse before, or who has a sudden strike of anxiety at the realization of the strength and size difference on the other end of the rope, that simple task can take on an edge.
And walking forward, it is natural to wonder why an animal that outweighs you 10-1 would follow peacefully, concerns which can lead to an angling of the body, timid steps and glances over the shoulder to be sure there’s no danger of a painful flat tire.
“Do you know where you’re going?” the instructor’s voice rang out as we made our way.
The horse was edgy and anxious, pushing forward then veering here and there, turning the short walk into a battle as I pulled forward on the rope one second then tightened it to slow him the next.
“The arena,” I answered.
“Well every time you look back, you’re telling him you aren’t sure of the path,” she replied.
I hadn’t even consciously realized I was doing it until she pointed it out, but I suddenly became aware that I was turned toward the horse so I could keep an eye on him.
Moving forward cautiously, sure enough, I was watching to be sure he didn’t clip my foot with his hoof or suddenly charge into me, which seemed completely logical and safety conscious — until she put it like that.
“Square your shoulders, look forward, and walk like you know the way,” she said. “He’ll follow you.”
She proceeded to explain that while I may have thought it safer to keep an eye on him, I was inadvertently creating a flawed and unsafe dynamic.
Inherently adverse to exerting effort, most horses would rather follow than lead, a trait they usually only deviate from if their safety comes into question.
And my mistrust and lack of confidence in the animal was being communicated as uncertainty and a lack of confidence in general. The horse, in turn, felt the need to be in front and to take the lead to ensure his own safety, a natural preference to following someone who seemed confused about the direction and who was, in every way possible, conveying danger ahead.
Mustering faith, shoulders squared and eyes forward, I focused on the arena and moved as if I expected he would follow — and he did.
The anxiety dropped out of the rope, his head relaxed, and he plodded beside me a completely different animal.
It wouldn’t have even mattered if he’d been led somewhere specific, or just taken for an aimless stroll, as long as the one at the front moved with confidence and purpose.
However, those behind one who doesn’t appear to know the way won’t be there for long.
Whether they balk, zig zag, veer or charge ahead, survival dictates they will search for a way to control their own fate — because leading the way has nothing to do with which end of the rope you are on, rather, it has everything to do with the way you lead.