| Triggers Triggers. Who doesn’t like a good, lively debate about triggers? With the extreme cold that we’ve experienced this past week in the northeastern U.S., I feel like a little heated debate wouldn’t be a bad way to forget about the cold. But alas, I’m not here to talk about database triggers. Sorry, we’ll have to save that debate for another day. (or maybe not, right?) Instead, what’s really on my mind is a horse named Trigger (Trigg for short). I had the pleasure of housesitting for some dear friends over the last 10 days, a house that came complete with two horses, one donkey, one sheep, five chickens, two ducks, one peacock, four goats, and one dog. It was an adventure I needed for a number of reasons right now, and honestly those animals were helping me more than I was helping them. The adventure I thought I was about to embark on for 10 days, however, quickly became something very different on the third morning. I had been warned that the horses in particular tended to have a Houdini-like quality about them, especially in the cold when grass is limited and icy ground hinders mobility. I was warned to make sure every door was latched or closed behind me when going in and out of stalls. And I was diligent to keep everyone in their proper place… until I woke up Friday morning to a sheet of ice on every surface no matter where I tried to walk. By the time I got to the barn to feed the animals, slipping and sliding as I went, I grew quickly concerned when one of the horses wasn’t in their stall. Normally when I walked in, they both greeted me with annoyed and impatient neighs, eagerly waiting for their allotment of hay. But Trigg wasn’t there. So, I opened the stall door and walked to call him from the doorway that led outside. Still no Trigg. At this point, the second horse, Truett, was very impatient and I quickly walked back into the barn to feed him, thinking that Trigg would appear by that point. Still no Trigg. Growing slightly concerned, especially given the ice, I walked back through his stall and outside to start searching for him in the second outbuilding where the tractors, extra hay, and Mr. Peacock lived. Did I mention it was slippery and icy? Sure enough, there was Trigg, standing behind the ropes he wasn’t supposed to get through, chilling out in the peacock stall and unable to figure out how to come back through the ropes he wasn’t supposed to have crossed in the first place. (hence the reason he wasn’t coming when I called) Once I removed the ropes and he started to walk back towards the barn, I got delayed by the goats now in my path and the ice on the ground. And yes, I had totally forgotten that I didn’t fully close the stall door when I had walked through to come find him. (that’s called foreshadowing, by the way) Just as I started down the hill to the barn, Truett was awkwardly coming towards me anxious and worked up. As I tried to calm him down and figure out what was going on, I suddenly saw Trigg outside of the barn on the other side of the fence, slowly walking towards the slightly exposed patches of grass poking through the snow in the yard. I quickly thanked Truett for letting me know something was wrong, “ran” through the barn yard and stall, grabbed a halter rope and some hay, and hurried as quickly as I could outside and across the icy driveway to the grass. In fact, now that I think about it, I still don’t know how Trigg got across the top part of the driveway to the grass in the first place. As I slowly approached him with some hay and gently called his name, Trigg would take a few steps forward each time I got closer. So I decided to go down the hill a few feet and try to come up in front of him, offering some of the deliciously sweet hay in my hand. But Trigg was too smart for my tactics (or so he thought) and he took off before I could take a couple of steps. Have I mentioned yet that it was cold and icy? In that moment, as Trigg took off down the hill towards the driveway, time slowed down and the next two seconds felt like an hour. As he reached the driveway, I knew exactly what was about to happen and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Hoofs and icy surfaces don’t mix. Shocked and confused after the initial impact of falling on his side, Trigg kept trying to get back up, each time falling and getting more frantic. One thing is for sure. This was not the morning he or I was expecting. I’ll spare you the details of the next two and a half hours. Trigg did eventually stand backup, only to fall down again. We eventually had a vet, another horse owner, and multiple people from church present, ready to do anything we could to help Trigg. And, for most of this time, I was in communication with the owner who was vacationing in the Dominican Republic. At the three-hour mark, after pushing, pulling, prodding, and lifting with all we had, Trigg was exhausted, cold, and seemingly unwilling to give any more effort to stand up one last time, even though we had finally been able to move him into grass where he wouldn’t slip if he tried to stand again. (This editorial is already long enough that I’m sparing you the details of all the stuff we tried in between, including the examination that the vet was finally able to do causing usto be fairly certain there wasn’t a major broken bone but not knowing what was injured. This was an ordeal in every sense of the word!) As we all stood there trying to move Trigg with our minds and wills at this point, the vet and friend that owned horses finally told the owner that we would try for 15 more minutes, but at that point, it was starting to borderline on cruelty to let Trigg slowly suffocate lying on the ground as he was. I’m not lying when I say that the vet had the bottle and needle in her hand, ready to relieve Trigg of his pain. It’s a horrible thing, and I couldn’t believe this is where the morning had ended up. But, if you’ve made it this far, you surely know I wouldn’t be telling this entire story just to tell you that after four hours, we had to let the horse die because he simply refused to get up anymore. ( “and Trigg… who did NOT die…” – ode to the ending of Charles Dickens “A Christmas Carol”) That’s right, more than four hours after this entire thing started in the slow motion of a horse galloping onto an icy driveway, and without us coaxing him yet again, Trigg suddenly made one last attempt on his own to stand up… and made it! Once stabilized, the vet was able to do a quick internal examination of the bones to verify there wasn’t a traumatic bone injury. A few minutes after that, Trigg decided of his own free will to hobble on three legs over 100 feet back to the barn. He was hurt, but he was alive, and for the first time that day the scent of hope started to waft through the air. Nine days later, and despite a constant onslaught of brutal cold and ice all week, I’m happy to report that Trigg is continuing to improve, although the road ahead is still not certain. The horse I just spent time with a few hours ago is not the horse he was moments before stepping onto the ice, but he is also a far cry from the horse that was lying on the ground, shivering and seemingly unwilling to give it one last go. It’s caused me to think a lot this week about how often a project, or relationship, can feel like Trigg lying on the ground with no apparent way for it to move forward or find success. I’ve thought about how easy it is to walk away when those moments come, because that’s the easiest and most obvious thing to do. But when I don’t walk away, at least sometimes, the breakthrough comes and what I end up with isn’t the same as before, but often stronger and thriving in a different way. I could do without the cold and ice for a very long time to come. But I’m thankful for watching a transformation from one thing into another over the last week. And for that, I simply want to say, “Thanks, Trigger.” (P.S. Yes, I did intentionally include at least one article on triggers this week just because. ) Ryan Booz Join the debate, and respond to the editorial on the forums | 