My automobile was blocked by the horse, which was standing in the middle of the road, but I suddenly understood why it was preventing me from passing
I was traveling home on our village’s sandy road. It was a typical day; everything seemed to be frozen in time, it was gray, and it was silent. Light dust was moved by the breeze, and every now and then I could hear horses neighing in the distance from a nearby farm. However, I noticed something strange when I went down the lengthy road with the green railings.
A horse was standing in the center of the road, still as a statue. It gazed straight at my vehicle. It simply stood there, staring, without taking a sidestep or becoming alarmed. I reduced my speed and almost stopped. The horse abruptly rushed off to the side as I approached, vanishing around the bend. I thought, “Probably scared,” and was ready to continue. But all of a sudden it was back, this time from the opposite side, pacing the roadside and staring directly at me. This worry didn’t seem typical. Something more was seen in its eyes: concern, perseverance, as though it were attempting to communicate. It nearly seemed to be calling to me as it raced off once again, turned, and peered back. It moved quickly and restlessly, pacing back and forth, yet it never traveled very far. After shutting down the engine, I opened the door. The moment I stepped outside seemed to be just what it had been waiting for. I followed it, and I was astonished by what I saw. Sadly, the animal 
The horse kept turning back to make sure I was following as it led me down the road. I saw something moving inside the green metal bars that ran alongside the road, about fifty meters away from the car. I froze when I approached. There was a little foal trapped between the bars. It was obviously trying to get through, but it was unable to move either forward or backward because its legs were hooked. Its tiny body was quivering with exertion and terror, sobbing softly as it made a valiant but unsuccessful attempt to free itself. You could see the metal had struggled hard since the green paint had been scraped off in multiple places. The horse, who I now realized was the mother, stood close by and gave me a worried look. I moved cautiously closer, not wanting to frighten the foal any more, and started to gently untangle its legs. Although it initially protested, it soon realized that I was harmless.
The foal was set free after several minutes. It leaped to its feet right away, almost passing out from fatigue, yet it stayed close to its mother. She gave it a smell to make sure everything was well, and then, after giving me one last glance, they both fled into the broad field, alive and free. I watched them leave for quite a while. Everything seemed so surreal. But in times like that, you are reminded that animals understand, not simply feel. They also know how to seek for assistance. And that might have been the most heartfelt “thank you” I’ve ever gotten. 
