Griffy and I were peacefully grazing in the big field behind the pasture one day when suddenly he threw his head up and danced in a circle around me, snorting in alarm. I was totally taken by surprise – “What the hell?” I exclaimed as he came to a stop and stared at the tree line opposite us. Then I saw it – a silver and pink mylar balloon had blown into the field and was caught on a tree. The breeze had made it wave, and he must have caught sight of it.

“I wonder if…oh,” I didn’t even have time to finish wondering if he’d want to go investigate before he was determinedly marching towards the trees, set on investigating this new threat. He stopped about 6 feet away from it, ears pitched forward, nostrils flared, and every muscle tensed, ready at the slightest hint of movement to abandon me to the balloon monster and save himself. My first thought was “I should make him walk up to it and touch it with his nose so he knows it’s not dangerous!” Thankfully for my continued existence on this planet, my second thought was “That’s a really fucking stupid idea, definitely don’t do that.”

As he stood stock still, laser focused on the balloon, I sent a silent plea into the universe to hold off on the wind, because I was definitely not going to be able to hold on to that lead rope if that balloon so much as twitched. Then I asked myself “Ok, you’ve been to all those calming signals classes – what does he need right now? What’s he telling you?”

I ran through a check list – Don’t crowd him, let him have space, and don’t be all up in his face. Breathe. I took a step away and back towards his shoulder and let out a breath. He flicked an ear of approval in my direction and I was pretty smugly proud of myself. I stood there, breathing, quietly watching him while trying not to stare directly at him. I kind of wished I had a picture, he looked absolutely majestic standing there, but I knew it was not the time to be fumbling for my phone. Thankfully, the wind cooperated and the balloon stayed still. Finally he slowly lowered his head and took a bite of grass, then thoughtfully chewed it while still watching the balloon. Eventually he moved away completely, satisfied that balloons don’t eat horses, back to normal grazing patterns.

It may seem silly for a horse to be afraid of a balloon, but such is the mind of a prey animal – anything unknown is potentially deadly, an instinct honed by thousands of years of survival on open grasslands and prairies and forests and wherever else horses roamed. What is truly remarkable is that he went to investigate the threat – a curious horse is a brave horse, confident enough in his safety in the world that he can explore something new with a tiny bi-pedal predator by his side.