There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man.
–Winston S. Churchill


When Ellie was about three years old, people started asking us the question. You know the question. I bet even some toddler parents, heck, infant parents have been asked: “What activities is she enrolled in?” It’s always pretty well-meaning. Conversational. Sometimes it helps funnel you into a new social group. Playdates for parents of children in toddler ballet, anyone? But despite my deep conviction that unscheduled time was just as important for her intellectual and social development as Mommy-and-Me Yoga, it was a little frustrating to use the word “no” that many times in succession. Is she in dance? No. Swimming? Nope. Soccer club? ‘Fraid not. And honestly? Even though it did tend to shut down all conversations starting with, “Is she in,” we were pretty happy with what we actually were doing.

By the age of about four, Ellie had expressed an interest in horses many times. She had done the county fair pony rides, gone to a few local horse events thanks to our town’s Harvest Festival and that same, good old county fair– and shocked us each time with how attentive and utterly fascinated she was. A friend at one of the events let her sit on the saddle and be led around, and then sat on the saddle with her and after several breathless minutes told me, in an aside, “You know, she asked to canter, and I’m not really sure how she knew what that was. And I warned her it was a little fast, but she loved it!”

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Well, Mr. T and I decided that that– horses– that could be Ellie’s “thing.” We started asking around to find somewhere that she could start lessons. She asked almost daily when she would get to go riding. We found a stable that offered private lessons when Ellie was almost five and I was pregnant with Lorelei. Between the drive (38 minutes; not very fun with a kid who was not a fan of car seats and sitting), the pregnancy, and life, she stopped after about five lessons. But those five lessons were all it took to turn her from a girl who thought horses were cool, to a girl who lived for spending time with them. Several things surprised us about her initial introduction to horses. She wasn’t afraid of them. She actually quite liked going fast. At her second lesson she asked if the horse could trot, and laughed, with the sharpest delight I have ever heard, as soon as it did. And, she would do anything– truly, anything– to be able to spend time around a horse. She would muck a stall or currycomb just as enthusiastically as she would sit on the saddle and ride. Because there were no close options and we were now the proud parents of an infant who liked long car rides even less than big sister, we weren’t really sure how horses would factor into Ellie’s life for the foreseeable future. Then we were approached one day by the same neighbor who taught Eric and his sister to ride. The rest, as they say, is history.

Fast-forward a year. Ellie’s social worker knew about Ellie’s love of all things horse, and asked if we had heard about a program in our area called “Healing Hearts with Hands and Hooves.” Even more amazingly, she knew of a grant program that would allow Ellie to participate in the program for free. Ellie didn’t need to be asked twice. She started going to Equine Therapy once a week for six weeks over the summer. There, she worked as a cooperative team with her horse, volunteers, and program participants to do everything from playing games, to participating in horse-care. It seemed so simple, but watching her and the other riders blossom and transform was nothing short of transfixing.

The program materials mentioned that riding offered many benefits to differently-abled children, from improved balance and coordination, to a positive impact on communication and social skills. I saw all of these things, and many more, as Ellie went through the program. Ellie, inspired by her own love of horses, tried to help another rider feel more comfortable about wearing a helmet; something he found very overwhelming on the first day. The horses gave her a more comfortable and easy way to connect to both the other participants and to the volunteers, and the fact that riding helped her feel more confident and comfortable translated into a great chance to practice those ever-important social skills.

I’ve noticed that the longer she has been riding, the more able she is to take some irritating sensory inputs in stride. Occupational Therapy has also been a huge help in allowing her to feel more comfortable with things like tags in clothes, wearing stiffer materials like jeans, and with general overstimulation, but Ellie has alternated between looking forward to Occupational Therapy and seeing it as another thing to get through. Never the case with riding. Mr. T heard a very helpful analogy at a seminar he attended last winter about autism describing a person’s emotional reserves as being like a cup: the closer your cup is to being full, the less it takes for it to run over. Many people on the spectrum have cups that are more easily filled, by everything from noises, to physical sensation, to interactions with others. Riding seems to help Ellie’s cup deepen. When she gets to spend time with a horse, it gives her a reserve of calm she can carry with her and rely on any time she encounters something that might feel a little irritating.

Ellie’s lessons would start by preparing to ride. Ellie has her own helmet because she rides independently of the program, but helmets are provided to participants who need them at no additional cost. Most participants use program-provided helmets. After putting her helmet on and chatting with her “walkers,” the volunteers who walk next to her and her horse and help them throughout the session, Ellie walks up the ramp to where she will mount her horse. She will have the same horse for every lesson, helping her create and strengthen a relationship with that animal. Then that day’s activities will start. Ellie and her horse might complete an obstacle course with the other rider/horse teams, play a game, or lead the horse through different activities or changes of movement. Ellie was always excited to see what sort of things might be planned, and would always be full of chatter on the drive home, telling me interesting or silly stories from that session. At the end of the session, Ellie would help groom her horse and prepare him to be stabled. Then she and the other participants would do a group cheer that they would decide on together. I saw so much great camaraderie develop over the six week sessions, and can’t express my appreciation for all of the volunteers enough.

The actual content of an equine therapy session may vary depending on the location and program staff, but almost universally– in parent accounts, program staff accounts, and articles– there is something magical about the bond between horse and rider. Horses are incredibly sensitive to emotion. The Equine Assisted Growth and Learning Association, Inc. had this to say of horses: “Most importantly, horses mirror human body language. Many complain, ‘This horse is stubborn.  That horse doesn’t like me,’ etc.  The lesson is that if they change themselves, the horses respond differently. Horses are honest, which makes them especially powerful messengers.” Bingo.

Given my credentials, I won’t go too far here in conjecturing as to why and how, exactly, horses do the special magic that they do. Given my credentials as parent to my particular child, I will say that there is something powerful and also somehow easy in accepting feedback of this sort from a horse or animal rather from another person. Ellie is also very sensitive. She can quite easily feel criticized, or imperfect. With other people, these feelings can often lead to exhibits of anger and defiance. With a horse, she seems more able to take the input at face value, do something about it, and move on. Maybe the stakes are lower. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s all non-verbal on the horse’s part. Whatever it is, she seems able to be more reflective and more deliberate during her time with a horse. It seems to totally bring her into herself in a way that is physical, mental, and emotional. It settles her. I don’t know how else to explain it. When I see her working with a horse, I feel like I can somehow see more of her. Like all that annoying feedback that sometimes gets in the way and overflows her cup just isn’t in there, and what is there is her best, truest version of herself. And I won’t put words in her mouth, exactly, but I sort of think that maybe she feels it, too.