Are there Autistic Horses?
Gabriel Denison

 

                Her name was Beyla, which means “wisdom” in the Croatian language.  Her ears were huge, and her big eyes took in everything around her.  The world surrounded her, louder and brighter than other horses perceived it.  Her Kiger mother had been taken while she was very young, and there was no herd to flow with, to learn rhythm or cadence of equine living.  Humans continually tried to touch her.  She had no thoughts, only a screaming fear inside that told her to run.  Different owners were found for her, and each one reached a point where they could make no further progress with the slim bay filly.
                “What’s wrong with that horse?”  said Mark Skenovan, when Beyla was dropped off at his barn. There was something odd about Beyla. She never made eye contact with horse or human, she paced endlessly.  Running became too tiring in a small space, so she numbed herself by endless pacing, her head high and her eyes looking far away.  Only if someone entered her enclosure did she run, banging and bouncing off the sides of the catch pen, like a wild bird against glass. 
                 Janelle Dickerson, a reclusive horse naturalist in Brothers, Oregon, tried to calm Beyla by putting her with an older, calmer horse to model horse behavior and partner with her.  “Partnering is a central concept in horse psychology,” Janelle told Beyla’s third owner.  “She needs to bond with another horse and be part of a team.  She’ll calm down.”  An Appaloosa gelding, and then a mustang mare where introduced into Beyla’s small enclosure. Both animals reacted with violent dislike to the yearling filly, her repetitive movements unnerving.  The gelding attempted to attack her, the mare attempted to break out to escape her.  They were removed, as the “partnering” theory, however accurate, had not worked.
 Beyla was alone again. Endless days of attempting to achieve “the hook-up,” where patient human waits and walks, working with a wild horse for that magical moment of recognition, were fruitless.   In the traditional moment of “hook-up” or “hooking on,” the agitated horse stops, whirls to face his human, and an electrical charge passes between human and equine.  At this moment, a person may approach the horse.  It is the beginning of a great partnership.

 But instead of a healthy curiosity, and dawning trust, Beyla lived with fear, the huge sounds and intense details she saw.  The closest she could come to the traditional “hook-up” between human and horse was to stop moving, press her chest into a corner, and look back over her shoulder beseechingly at her would-be trainer. Through the winter, various gentling techniques were tried with the spooky little mare, but none worked.  One horseman went so far as to say, “Nothing that works on an ordinary horse will work on this filly.” 
Lonely, untouchable, Beyla developed a new behavior: spinning in a corner.  Spring came, and her owner knew a new approach was needed.  The basic belief of  “the horse will tell you what the truth is” was revisited, and signs of a unique condition began to emerge.  Emily Smith, a prominent speech pathologist in California, was called to consult a suspicion that Beyla was autistic.
                The DSM-IV (Diagnostic and Statical Manual of Mental Disorders) criteria for diagnosing autism in humans fit Beyla’s behavior.  Although Temple Granin, in her outstanding research (Thinking in Pictures, Animals In Translation) connects the similarities between autistic people and animals in general, there has been no work to date on forms of autism in animals themselves.  Yet Beyla’s overwhelming symptoms could not be ignored.  She showed impairment in all her behaviors that regulated social interaction with people or horses, and an inability to develop relationships.  Her restricted, repetitive patterns of behavior were evident in her inflexible adherence to pacing.  She also showed a lack of eye contact, and insensitivity to pain.  She gave evidence to hypersensitivity in areas of touch and sound, preoccupation with details.  And her endless motion could be seen as form of self-stimulation, or stimming, as the DSM-IV terminology described it.
                Instead of training techniques, Beyla’s owner decided to approach changing Beyla’s behavior from a different point of view: healing techniques.  There were two recognized autism therapies that seemed to suggest Beyla: 1) Holding Therapy, made famous by book Holding Time, by Dr. Margaret Walker, who believes autism is the result of lack of bonding, and enforced holding can reverse the effects.  2) Lovass method, intensive behavior therapy with stressed verbal communication, one on one with a trained therapist at least forty hours a week. 
                Previously, Beyla had been confined in a large stall, or catch pen, and isolated.  She could not go out with other horses for fear of her running away, possibly through fences and across roads.  She could not be approached or haltered.  She was moved to Cline Falls Ranch in Redmond, where she was still confined, but surrounded by bustling barn activities, horses and farm vehicles.  Beyla’s startle response to the routine stimulation was initially high, but to desensitize her, this was the right thing to do.  If indeed Beyla was autistic, then it was necessary to remember that autism alters the way an affected being interacts with and understands the world.
                Emily Smith described it as “a state of continual terror…some kids are literally scared to death all the time.”  There was the concern, before beginning “therapy” with Beyla: that she might have a
dysfunctional sensory system.   Miss Smith pointed out many of Beyla’s reactions were inappropriate to her stimuli.  Many times one or more senses are either over or under-reactive to stimulation in autism. Her owner felt it necessary to proceed with the autism treatments as quickly as possible. 
                On a sunny afternoon in late May,  Annette stopped by to visit the slim bay filly with her dog.  Many boarders at Cline Falls knew Beyla, and stopped at her pen to talk to her and calm her.  Beyla stopped, transfixed, and then proceeded to attempt to nuzzle the dog.  Annette slowly entered the pen to retrieve her pet, but began to stroke Beyla in amazement.  A breakthrough had been made.  Annette’s dog had unwittingly served as a Therapy Dog, another form of autistic treatment, known as AAT, or Animal Assisted Therapy.  Dogs are used predominantly as therapy animals as a link in bonding activities between patient and therapist.  
From that point on, Beyla’s work began in earnest, using touching and holding routines, desensitization, and contact on a daily basis with dogs. 

Today, because of her “therapy,” Beyla is calm, and can travel outside her enclosure on a lead rope without the fear of her breaking away.  She can be touched, haltered, trailered.  She can make eye contact, and looks to her humans for help – the biggest step of all.  Are horses autistic?  Beyla might say, “Yes.”