NCEFT is thrilled at being selected once again as beneficiaries of the Wounded Warriors Polo Benefit. Hosted by the St. Francis Commandery, Order of Saint John, Knights Hospitaller, the Benefit acts to raise funds for Bay Area programs that support veterans wounded while deployed in Afghanistan and Iraq. This year’s event will be held Sunday, September 11 at the Menlo Circus Club. Tickets can be purchased online at http://www.woundedwarriorspolobenefit.org/
Her small hands wrapped themselves around the wrists of the side-walkers on either side of her, insistently squeezing and kneading. “You want your seatbelt back?” one of them asked. Both women raised their hands from where they’d been lightly holding the child’s ankles and draped their forearms over the tops of her thighs. “Click, seatbelt on.” The rider sighed, contentedly resting her palms on their arms. They made two more laps around the arena in this fashion, their comfortable conversation pausing only briefly when the therapist requested a change of direction on the next diagonal.
She has Down Syndrome, the most prevalent chromosomal disorder affecting more than 400,000 people in the United States alone. Caused by additional genetic material—part, or all, of a third chromosome 21—the syndrome results in cognitive delays and stereotypic physical features. However, those affected by Down can go on to lead rewarding lives when given the correct educational, emotional, and therapeutic support.
Results from an 11-week study conducted at the University of Quebec in November of 2010 indicate that equine-assisted therapy improves the gross motor function and postural control of children with Down Syndrome. Motor function refers to the body’s ability to work as system, thereby enabling us to act and move. These functions are divided into two types, fine motor skills that involve small muscles, and gross motor skills involving larger muscles. Hippotherapy (Hippo) and Therapeutic riding (TR) increases strength in these larger muscle groups, allowing for improvements in walking and running. Though the ability to move is a necessary part of being able to care for oneself, it also has profound implications on one’s social opportunities. Early childhood development of social skills is dependent on participation in peer interaction. Hippo and TR not only improve a child’s ability to participate in games, but give them a source of conversation and commonality.
“Ready?” the therapist asks. The young girl immediately signs her reply, touching the front of the felt pad and placing her hand on her chest, “Go please!” For her, NCEFT simply means a small brown pony named Valentine. It’s not 30 minutes of improving motor function, or working on signing two-word sentences. It’s soft fur, blue skies, and friends who are always ready to hold your hand.
We ask the world of them. To both tune in and tune out. To be dead to the world and yet so sensitive a touch or a word elicits instant change. We ask them to be therapy horses. Friends, teachers, soft rumps to lie on, warm bodies to hug. They listen unwearyingly to stories, quietly endure bouts of tears, and show heart-breaking tenderness.
The question is, are these horses born or made? We say the answer is both, born with kind souls and carefully shaped into solid citizens. In the process of auditioning potential horses we come across quiet horses, loving horses, easy horses. Yet, rarely do we find therapy horses. Why? What training techniques result in horses that are good, but not great?
Expectations. The steadfast belief that one’s horse is not only capable of the task at hand, but that the task itself is unassuming. The NCEFT staff currently has the pleasure of working with a young Fjord, TUF Stormy Weather, owned by our Barn Manager, Bonnie MacCurdy. Having just turned 6 in May, Stormy is shattering expectations by not only participating in daily hippotherapy sessions, but playing roles as a therapeutic driving, vaulting, and riding horse. Though born with the soft temperament essential to therapy work, it was careful training that brought Stormy to his full potential.
Now, don’t confuse careful training with finessed training. Not to say that timing and release aren’t important, but in the immortal word’s of Nike, “Just do it.” We believe our horses can do anything. We approach every task with the simple expectation of success, nothing more. The path to success may be filled with twist and turns, bumps, and dead ends, but we get there. Too often we confuse perfection and success, and as a result, too often does failure discourage us.
Earlier this year we took Stormy and our other two Fjords—7 year old Tonka, and 14 year old Sebastian—to a handful of schooling shows. Our goal: a different discipline every month. None of the shows were perfect. At the Hunter-Jumper show all the horses were a little strong in the ring. The Dressage show found an exuberant Sebastian more interested in hand-galloping than halting at X, and Stormy’s slow jog went out the window at the Western show. Yet every show was successful. Not only did the horses stand quietly between classes, but cantered to a win in the Equitation pattern class, earned scores over 70% in Dressage, and nearly took home a Western buckle.
Many of us are deterred by the idea of failure, making no attempt if perfection is unlikely. We limit our expectations and spend more time analyzing our faults than actually doing anything. We try to teach our horses to canter by spending entire rides trotting a circle, analyzing our bend, suppleness, impulsion, flexion. But we don’t canter.
So, how do you train a therapy horse? You ride them down the road to the tie-rail by the grocery store, you hop on bareback for a game of mounted basketball, you canter on the right lead, left lead, any lead really as long as you’re cantering. You put scarves on their heads and throw balls at their legs, and sing “Old McDonald” at the top of your lungs. You stop analyzing and start doing, and before you know it, somewhere between the trail rides and champagne races you realize your horse has learned to halt off your seat, to sidepass and back, to move forward with a shift in weight. Somewhere amidst all the “doing” you’ve found success.
“Delayed Developmental Milestone,” it’s the diagnosis that brought her here. A phrase all at once vague and threatening; the idea that something may be wrong, but no true explanation of what, or why. With one child already receiving treatment at NCEFT, the family once again turned to hippotherapy for help.
She was less than three years old, with white-blonde hair and quick to smile. For many kids the initial session is tough, asked first to leave the comfort of their parent’s arms for that of a stranger’s, and then to climb aboard an animal of immense size; it’s no surprise that tears may be shed. But not for her. No, she was happily placed upon the pony’s back, riding off without so much as a backwards glance at her family waiting on the viewing deck.
Weeks passed and she fell into an easy pattern. Hands on head, hands on shoulders, hands on hips. Walk-halts, serpentines, figure eights, and often a lap or two around the sensory trail. When it came to following directions she was exceptional, never faltering in her willingness to do as asked. Her sessions were productive, and neat, and quiet. Very quiet. She didn’t babble, she didn’t squeal. She never attempted to communicate or imitate others. Her only vocalizations were in response to questions, and her replies were unvaried, “Da.” One word, one syllable.
That Wednesday started like any other. “Can you say ‘pig’?” the therapist asked as they walked around the arena, pointing to the wooden shapes that lined the walls, “P-p-pig.” She slowly emphasized each letter. “Da,” the girl replied.
“How about cow?”
“Da.”
“Can you say moon?” she asked, trailing over the o’s.
“Moon.”
The group let out a collective squeal; therapists, sidewalkers, and horse handler all in disbelief. Moon, it was the first word she had spoken at NCEFT. She’d say it again the following week, and every week afterwards. Last week was her final session, you’d hardly recognize the little girl squealing while her pony trotted down the arena. She laughs, and waves, and though still quiet, she talks.
For information on developmental milestones, check out http://www.aap.org/healthtopics/stages.cfm
To learn more about Equine Assisted Therapy and its indication in developmental delays consider the following titles:
– Raising a Sensory Smart Child: The Definitive Handbook for Helping Your Child with Sensory Processing Issues
– Special Needs, Special Horses: A guide to the benefits of therapeutic riding
http://www.amazon.com/gp/search?index=books&linkCode=qs&keywords=1574411926
“Walk up,” the handler calls, touching her hand to the rump of the bright chestnut behind which she walks. The gelding lengthens his stride, blowing softly with the rhythm of the gait, ears flicking as he waits for the sign. You can barely hear the handler’s trill through the final chords of “I’m a Little Teapot”, but right on cue the horse halts, sending its young rider wobbling forward as sidewalkers and therapist sing that last line, “Tip me over and pour me out.” Between fits of laughter the rider manages a gasping, “Too easy!” An imperceptible aid sends the horse walking once again; the muffled sound of hoofbeats marking time as the session draws to a close.
That’s us, that’s who we are here at NCEFT. We believe medicine comes in many forms, some of which are hooved and hairy. We think independence can be found on the back of a horse, or riding shotgun on an ATV. We’re for carrot snacks, muzzle kisses, and trail rides through the trees. But most of all we’re for hope, healing, and horses.
Horses. Hope. Healing. Three simple words that, when combined, have the power to transform lives. NCEFT is centered around helping people. We are about compassion, inclusiveness, and offering the highest level of service to those in need. We do this by harnessing the unique connection between horses and humans. NCEFT is also about community. Many of our clients and families describe NCEFT as a place that feels like home with people who feel like family.
