I was riding on the trail with my horse, Bailey, when all of a sudden, she stopped short and pointed her ears forward. I could feel her body going completely tense beneath me.
This was truly odd behavior for my 26-year-old, trustworthy mare. Not much bothers her on the trail. She is accustomed to deer running through the brush, people walking toward her, and even the occasional dog darting out from behind a tree. But something on this day had her on high alert.
I could see nothing out of place, but I know that horses have acute hearing that alerts them to subtle changes. They also have a sense of smell so honed that they can detect environmental factors (clay, wet soil, certain trees, and plants) that indicate fresh, clean water from miles away. So, I trusted that something she felt was unsafe was out there.
I could tell by the way her body was braced that she was deciding whether to turn and bolt from whatever she saw or heard, or if she would stand her ground. I was pretty sure she was going to pivot and bolt. I was faced with a split-second choice: trust her judgment and take the lead by turning us around onto an alternative route, or risk letting her take the lead and possibly leave me in the dust.
Some equestrians would have seen this as a training opportunity to push their horse past whatever was causing concern. I’ve seen that happen, and here’s the reality: most horses would love to save your hide while saving their own. But if you aren’t willing to listen when they alert to danger, you are probably going to become a passenger, not a rider, and hopefully stay on through whatever explosive reaction occurs.
My choice in that moment was to maintain leadership while honoring her wisdom about what was safe and what wasn’t. I began talking to her as I gently and subtly turned her back the way we came. I knew a spot just behind us where the trail branched off into an alternative route home. My cues were calm. They indicated that I recognized she was on alert and was honoring that, but I was also taking the lead in keeping us safe.
She was animated and moving faster than I would have ideally liked as we made our way up the hill and around the bend, but it was nothing I couldn’t ride. If I had tried to force her to walk by or calm down in that spot, I’m not sure I could have ridden her reaction.
Horses are prey animals, not predators, and they have three modes when sensing danger: fight, freeze, or flight. They rarely fight because they aren’t equipped with talons, claws, or razor-sharp teeth. They rarely freeze for more than a few seconds, because if you are frozen, the threat can easily overtake you. Flight is their best protection.
It is not that different for humans. We’ve developed tools over the years that make us better at fighting, but in primitive times, our teeth and fingernails weren’t enough to fight a saber-toothed tiger. Some of us freeze when confronted with physical or psychological threats, and often we choose to flee. Fleeing can be a way of keeping ourselves safe or a method of avoiding confrontation.
What I would have loved Bailey to do was take a breath and bring her heart rate down. But since she doesn’t understand that kind of request, I had to take a breath and bring my heart rate down instead. When she gets alerted, I tend to get alerted, which only adds the kind of panicked, chaotic, and unpredictable energy I want to avoid. She needs to receive the message through my body language and breathing that I’m not concerned and that we are safe (even when I don’t know for sure).
The same goes for people.
When someone around you is panicked and in fight, freeze, or flight mode, don’t join their pool of emotional energy. Pause, breathe, and lower your voice and energy. Avoid phrases like “Calm down!” or “There is nothing to worry about.” Just like Bailey, that person believes with all their body and mind that there is something to worry about. Just because you don’t see what it is doesn’t mean their feeling isn’t real.
Leading through crisis with balanced and emotionally clear energy is much more powerful than trying to lead with words. Fear is an emotion that carries energy in our bodies, and it cannot always be turned around with logic or discussion, especially in the moment. Body language is a powerful communication tool, especially when you incorporate breath and muscle relaxation.
Bailey and I continued our ride without any additional incidents. Once a horse is no longer near what they perceive as dangerous, they completely let it go.
I was thankful I could support her in a way that kept us both safe without causing unnecessary drama. When you are faced with a situation where someone else is in fight, freeze, or flight mode, focus on your own breath and body language before using words to talk them through it. Calm your own nervous system first. That is the best path to leading someone through fear.
True leadership starts with self-regulation.
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