A Horse, of Course.

On my way home from Green Chimneys today, my friend Tova (also my ride!) and I were discussing, among other things, the interesting fact that the children who attend the school tend to pick a favorite animal with whom they form a special relationship. For some kids, the goats have a certain appeal. For others, the chickens make them the happiest. Tova relates best to the pigs, and I, of course, adore the horses. I mentioned that it would be interesting to find out what it is in each animal that the child most identified with. I think that would provide a great deal of insight into these troubled children, and possibly aid in their treatment. Then, the discussion moved to what it is about our respective animals that appeals most to us. With some thought, I decided that what I relate to most about horses is their social nature.

People generally see horses being ridden by themselves, or out in a pasture grazing, maybe with some horses nearby, but that's about it. Unless you really know horses, and have spent some time around them, you wouldn't really get to see their intensely social lives. Even when it looks as though the horses are ignoring their neighbors in the paddock, they are keenly aware of every other horse; how she's feeling, what she's doing, and if she's feeling safe. Prey animals, such as horses, thrive in groups which offer protection. Horses were designed to flee at the first sign of danger, so the more eyes keeping a look out, the better. They are incredibly intuitive as a result, and not just about the needs of their herd mates. One of the reasons horses are so valuable as therapy animals is because they are quickly able to assess the moods of people and often react in a way that will help people identify their own emotions as reflected by the horse.

I often joke that I decided to study animal behavior because I'm not fond of people. That's only partially true. While I do get frustrated by mankind as a whole, I love my friends and family. I like the idea that I have a safety network- that, if I'm there for my 'herd', they will look out for me. I'm ok by myself, I'll go out and do things on my own, but I prefer to be in the company of those I love. So it's probably no wonder that I feel so close to horses- I understand their need to be surrounded by comfort and safety, and I do my best to provide that for them whenever I can. Is there an animal you relate to in a special way?

Dreamer, the love of my life.

Heaven is a Big, Red Barn

Two semesters ago, one of my animal behavior classes took a field trip to a farm in Brewster, New York called Green Chimneys. It's an incredible place where kids can go to learn when traditional teaching environments have failed them. Not only are they stocked with incredible staff members and teachers, they also have some extra special residents equipped with fur, hooves, talons and wings. Green Chimneys is a farm where many animals come to live out their days in peace while also helping these troubled kids learn compassion and acceptance. Nestled in the beautiful scenery of New York State, this farm is lush and green in the summer and painted white with snow in the winter. It's quiet, save for the sounds of rescued birds of prey and farm animals.

After only a few hours in this place, I knew I had to come back and spend more time surrounded by the magic. So I applied (through a rigorous screening process) to become a volunteer at the horse barn, where many semi-retired and gentle horses serve as therapeutic mounts for the resident kids. The staff like to have volunteers, who can ride, take a test to be a 'barn buddy' so that the horses can get some regular schooling. Horses are smart animals and they need to be challenged, and therapy horses often just spend their days walking in circles. As a barn buddy, I get to give the horses that extra mental stimulation and keep them from losing their manners, so to speak. My first buddy was Cash, a tall, handsome Chestnut gelding who once served as Mrs. Bloomberg's fox hunting mount.

He was a willing old chap, but couldn't do much more than walk and trot a little. When the equine dentist came to float the horses' teeth (file them so that there are no sharp points) he determined that poor Cash was actually significantly older than they'd thought, and probably well into his 30s. That's quite old for a horse, so they decided then and there to retire him for good. He'll stay at the farm for the rest of his life being pampered and loved, but that left me without a buddy. My new mount, and the fellow I rode today, is Chewie, short for Chewbacca. You can see the resemblance.

Chewie is an old man as well, and he can only walk when I ride him, but we do challenging patterns and work on his ring manners. Truth be told, even though I am a fairly advanced rider, I'm so happy to be sitting on a horse that just walking quietly with Chewie in the big indoor ring is perfectly acceptable.

In recent months, thanks to a light work schedule and a rough economy, I've had to cut back on my visits to Green Chimneys. After all, it takes a Metro North train and a $15 taxi ride (each way) to get to the farm from Queens. I have to wake up at 6:30am to make the 7:47 train, and I get home around 6pm, utterly exhausted. I spend the days shoveling saw dust, mucking stalls, scrubbing manure stains from the stall walls, hauling hay bales, sweeping the aisles and hayloft, moving horses from place to place, and completing various other odd jobs. What many people get paid for, or do in exchange for board, I essentially pay to do. When I'm waking up in the dark, piling on my layers, I often ask myself why on earth I'm volunteering if it's such a hassle. But then I get to the farm, and I'm greeted by the sight of the huge red barn nestled in the rolling hills, and a sense of pure joy rushes over me and I remember why I do this. These horses feed my soul. The least I can do is feed them lunch.