It happened in a small village near Innsbruck, where the slopes drop straight into a ravine, and a narrow dirt road runs right along the edge. There lived a young mother — Anna Meyer — with her six-month-old daughter Lisa and her husband, Martin, a farmer.
That morning started like any other. Martin was away — he had gone to get feed, and Anna decided to take her daughter for a walk along the pasture. The sky was clear, the horses were lazily grazing near the fence, and Anna, smiling, pushed the stroller along the firm dirt path.
She stopped at the gate to adjust Lisa’s blanket. The wind blew gently, and the air smelled of fresh hay. Everything seemed peaceful — until a gust of wind blew the latch off the gate. Anna looked away for just one second.
But that one second was enough. The stroller, standing on a slight incline, began to move forward. Slowly at first, almost unnoticeably. Then faster. The wheels started sliding over the gravel.
Anna turned around and screamed.
— “Lisa!”
But the path led straight to the cliff. Her legs felt glued to the ground — there were only a few meters between her and the stroller, and she understood: she wouldn’t make it in time.
And then she heard hoofbeats.
From the pasture, tearing up the ground with her hooves, a horse sped toward them — tall, chestnut-colored, with a white mark on her forehead. It was their mare, Bella — quiet, obedient, and never before had she crossed the fence.
Bella leapt over the broken gate and, neighing, galloped straight toward the rolling stroller. In a matter of seconds, she caught up, struck the handle with her chest, and knocked it off course. The stroller toppled onto its side, just a few steps from the edge.
Anna ran up, trembling, and lifted Lisa into her arms. The baby was crying — but unhurt.
She turned — Bella stood still, breathing heavily, looking at them with big, intelligent eyes.
Later, the veterinarian said the horse had injured her leg — the impact was too strong. But Bella survived.
After that day, Anna never left the stroller without the brake on. She often repeated:
— “God sent us an angel… just one with hooves.”
The story was later written about in local newspapers. People came to see Bella, bringing her carrots and sugar.
And now, on the fence near the cliff, there is a plaque:
“On this spot, a horse saved a child. And reminded everyone that sometimes the purest hearts aren’t human.”
