I spent a good part of this past summer at our farm running our horse camp. Most of the children who come to the camp have autism or sensory issues. It has been a fascinating experience watching my children and horses interact and I am made aware yet again of the strong connection between them.
My horses are always calm, comfortable and relaxed around the children. In fact it is not unusual for them to fall asleep while the children are grooming and saddling them. This is not always the case when I am teaching my ‘typical’ adult riders and it is almost never the case when I have corporate groups here for leadership workshops.
In particular I like to watch Huggy Bear. Huggy is a small haflinger pony who has been with us for several years. He doesn’t work in our weekly lesson program as he is extremely nervous and spooky around people and has bolted out the arena door many times. He does work for one month of the year in the camp program. The kids don’t ride him but they do lead him through obstacle courses and groom him. I watch as this spooky little pony quietly follows them around, never putting a foot in the wrong spot.
There is a tendency for people (particularly those unfamiliar with horses) to romanticize or idealize the relationship between horses and people with disabilities. In looking for some warm and fuzzy moment they want to believe that horses are kinder and more patient with our “special” clients because of their disability. I remember once in a television interview being asked repeatedly to explain the “magical” connection between horses and people with disabilities.
I don’t believe in magic and the truth is, that although horses are wonderful creatures, they are not particularly warm and fuzzy (unless they are in a Disney movie) I know that their comfortable, relaxed demeanour with our clients is based not on human sentiment but horse logic. Despite my attempts to understand that logic at this point I still have more questions than answers.
Perhaps the bond can be explained in part by the fact that people with autism or sensory issues and horses both perceive the world around them, in a similar manner that is not natural to neurotypical people. This is not a new revelation; anyone who has read Temple Grandin’s book ‘Animals in Translation’ or seen her recent award-winning documentary knows that she attributes her success in stockyard design to her ability to see the world the same way the animals do.
Their common perception comes from a heightened sensory awareness of their environment that we do not share. They are constantly processing sights, sounds, tastes and textures that neurotypical people are oblivious to. Their sensitivity is so acute that this incoming sensory information can often be overwhelming and even frightening.
All the small details and the differences in their environment pop out at them. We on the other hand see only what we are focused on and what is important to us. Rather than noticing differences and details we tend to generalize across situations paying more attention to similarities.
Perhaps my horses and my children recognize that they share a world in which words are not meaningful. They communicate through body language, which is a very open and honest form of communication. They are experts at reading non-verbal signals that I usually don’t realize I am sending. I put far more importance on my words, which I can often use to disguise my true feelings.
I often wonder if the strongest affinity comes from their sense of vulnerability in the world of neurotypical humans. Although horses are perceived by many to be large and intimidating, in the wild they are prey animals whose survival lies in their ability to sense danger and run from it. In the world of domestic horses humans are considered predators and in fact it is not uncommon to see people exhibiting predatory-like behaviour towards their horses in an effort to physically control or subdue them. We often try to eliminate behaviours in our children in ways that are very controlling and not at all empathetic. The result it that they feel misunderstood and vulnerable and their first reaction is to run just as the horses do.
It bothers me somewhat that I don’t have a tangible explanation for this unique relationship between my horses and my clients. On the other hand working with horses and people all these years has taught me that not everything in life has to make sense from my perspective. Perhaps it is simply enough for me to recognize and accept the relationship and know it is a good thing for everyone concerned.
