Trust Your Instinct!

By Sharon Baldwin | Aug 31, 2012
Another old friend, Jack

Good morning friends! This story popped in my head this week so I suppose I need to share it with you. I headed out from Asheville to teach a class in a small town several hundred miles from home. On the way I had this feeling there was a horse that needed to tell me something. I don’t usually keep myself open because if I did I’d probably resemble Dr. Doolittle in the movie where all the animals were talking to him at once, and he almost became a screaming nut. Also, ethics will not allow me to talk with other people’s animals without their person’s permission. However, on this drive, the feeling persisted and the closer I came to this farm where the workshop was to be held; the stronger the feeling became. Normally, I check into a motel, rest, maybe get something to eat and check in with my host for the next day’s class. This time I drove straight to the farm after being on the road for eight hours. The pull from this animal was too strong to ignore. I parked my car beside the office, opened the door and stiffly rose to my feet massaging my aching back; and took in the activity around one of the big barns closest to where I stood. Johnny, a dear friend and one of the owners, saw me and walked over to say hello. “Good to see you,” he said, “I thought you weren’t supposed to be here till tomorrow.” “I’m not,” I told him.” “What’s going on?” “Well,” he said, “You remember that Paint I got last year; the one that had been abused? You worked with him some and we found out what happened to him before I got him.” “Yes, I remember,” I told him, “Why?” “I brought him in this morning and he’s got a big gash on his pastern. I’ve been out looking all day for something he could have cut himself on and I can’t find a thing,” he said with an exasperated expression on his lined and wizened face. “Okay, why don’t I ask him and maybe he can show us,” I told my friend with a tired smile on my face. Johnny cocked a brow and said, “Let’s go.” The horse had been, (not so patiently) waiting for me to arrive so he could show me a piece of farm equipment way back in the field that was partially buried. He knew Johnny would worry himself sick until he found the culprit of the nasty cut. Johnny took the four-wheeler straight to the spot I described, found the old disk and removed it with the tractor. The horse was happy; Johnny was happy; and so was I. I piled back in my car, drove to the motel, got a sandwich and slept. Johnny told that story at the workshop the next day.

Trust your instincts, guys; they’re usually right on!

Hope everyone has a fun weekend! Stay safe and I'll see ya next week!


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