My Pony Days with GallopNYC

by Natalie Keller Reinert

Around here, Wednesday is Pony Day.

On Pony Day, I put on my barn clothes (old flare-legged jeans I never wear anywhere, green t-shirt, Aeropostale zip-up someone once gave me, apparently believing that I was a seventeen-year-old high school student) and my Ariat paddock boots (which, in contrast, I wear all over the city) and hop on Florence, my purple bicycle, to ride over the mountain to the stables.

It's not really a mountain, but when you have grown up in Florida, having to ride up the ridge that bisects west Brooklyn really feels like conquering Mt. Everest. When I get to the summit, at Prospect Park West, I expect to see Victorian-mustachioed mountain climbers celebrating their victory with their sherpas, but it's really only the Italian bakery and that French place with the "fromage" sign in the window.

Riding down the hill on the other side is an exercise in faith: faith that one's vintage bicycle has modern brakes; faith that no one will decide to open the door of a parked car at just the wrong moment and flip you heels-over-head. It's a very steep hill, with a blind curve.

The view in Prospect Park

Then there's the pedestrian bridge over Ocean Parkway. Can you bicycle up and over a pedestrian bridge? Answer: if you stand up on the pedals and nearly kill yourself in the process.

All that should be adventure enough, but my destination lies just at the foot of the pedestrian bridge, and after I've fought with my bike lock for five minutes, it's time to actually get down to work.

Because friends, there are ponies in that there building!

I think one of the coolest things about my neighborhood is that it's a ten-minute bike-ride from a stable. I can't ask for a lot more than that. There aren't very many stables in New York City anymore, did I just get lucky? There's even a dressage arena in the corner of the park where we enter. So nearly every time I go to the park, I get to eavesdrop on a riding lesson.

(It's a real chore not to offer suggestions, too. The tragic life of an ex-riding instructor.)

Rider and volunteers in the ring at Kensington

The ponies of Pony Day live at Kensington Stables, where I volunteer with GallopNYC to do, well, pretty much whatever they want me to. I help move the carriage out of the "arena," a small square space where horses can get a little free time, roll in some dirt, and riders can almost execute a twenty-meter circle. I groom horses before their lessons. I seek out lost girths and match up stirrups and leathers. I do gloriously horsey things.

Then the students arrive.

GallopNYC is a therapeutic riding organization that operates out of two riding stables in New York City: one in Brooklyn, and one in Queens. Most of the students have developmental disorders. They might not speak clearly (or at all), or be obsessive about odd things and find it hard to focus, or have other symptoms that make it impossible for them to lead an independent life.

I think the only logical thing to do with someone who never gets to feel independent is to put them on a horse.

I mean, what do horses make us feel? What magical keywords show up again and again when we gush about why we ride? Here are three: Freedom, and exhilaration, and flight. Here is another: power.

Yes, I've walked this big mama!

Imagine those feelings to someone who is always being minded, someone who will always have to be cared for and guided and instructed like a child. It must be like rising up on their own wings.

The biggest and brightest thing you see during a therapeutic riding lesson is the smile on the rider's face.

The second brightest thing is the smiles on the volunteers' faces. We get an almost unfair amount of pleasure out of this work. Oh hi, I groom horses, hold them for a boy while he and his instructor saddle them up, and then walk and trot the horse around the ring while he practices posting and two-point and throws beanbags hilariously all over the arena. I know, I know, I'm a hero.

Or I am just having a really great time?

The only thing better than waltzing around the tiny arena at Kensington is walking a tacked horse down the street and around an elaborate traffic circle at the southwest corner of Prospect Park (on a marked horse-and-rider lane, mind you) and into the trees of the park. There, a beautiful meadow called Bowling Green has been set aside for GallopNYC. This is a real treat, because with all the space, riders get to trot more than a tiny circle, and I have found that my riders really like to trot.

No matter how worn out and grouchy and behind-deadline I am (and I am usually all three of those things) after two hours at the stable, I'm completely revived. There's so much energy, and enthusiasm, and excitement crammed into those two hours. There's so much happiness and accomplishment.

I used to think that therapeutic riding required skills I didn't have. It turns out I couldn't have been more wrong. No, I'm not in anyway educated or certified in working with developmental disabilities. But I can walk a horse. And, believe it or not, not everyone can do that!

GallopNYC has a great Facebook page, by the way, full of horsey content. Give them a "like!"

My Friend, Valentino

Please enjoy this guest post from Lisa Wysocky, therapeutic horse trainer and consultant, about a horse that is very special to her.

Horse lovers know all horses are special. We also know sometimes a horse comes along that is more extraordinary than the others. Valentino is one of those horses.

 I first saw Valentino as a three-year-old. He was a black Tennessee Walking Horse cross, 13.2, skin and bones, pacing back and forth with his nose raised above the top rail of a round pen. Valentino’s human “family” had moved away when he was a yearling and abandoned him. Neighbors threw hay when they could, but Vali might have starved to death had he not been rescued by Knoxville’s Horse Haven of Tennessee when he was three.

At the time, I was the equine trainer at a therapeutic riding center near Nashville. Several of our instructors visited Valentino at a horse fair where he was in a trailering demonstration. Next thing I know I was turning this neglected rescue into a therapy horse.

Having lived entirely on his own during his formative years, Valentino did not know how to relate to people or to other horses. I called several veterinary schools that suggested I put him in a paddock by himself where he could watch people and horses interact. Done.

In the meantime, center volunteers and I began to teach Valentino to lead, tie, pick up his feet, and accept a saddle and bridle. I also began a desensitization process, for here was a horse that had never experienced much of anything.

Over the next months I became amazed at the intelligence of this horse. He was often fearful (of entering a strange building, of people he didn’t know, of things he had never seen, such as a carriage) but he rarely backed away. Instead, he’d visibly shake as he carefully smelled the person or object and then slowly let out a deep breath. Over and over, Vali became comfortable with new objects and people and I watched his confidence grow.

Eight months after his arrival, Valentino was turned out with an older gelding whose paddock bordered Vali’s. They became good friends. A month later he was turned out with several other horses. By this time our thoughtful little horse had gained several hundred pounds and grown four inches.

Before I knew it Valentino had begun therapy lessons. About a year later I had the opportunity to adopt Valentino, and I included him in demonstrations in several clinics. He is a featured horse in my book and DVD, My Horse, My Partner: Teamwork on the Ground, and has a chapter in Cheryl Dudley’s book, Horses That Save Lives. Other trainers requested him for clinics and videos but I knew Valentino was a born therapy horse. He has now, at age nine, been at Therapeutic Animal Partners for more than four years.

I become angry when I think how Valentino’s original family threw him away. How could anyone do that? Yet it happens all the time. I have now come to trust Valentino implicitly in lessons. He is the first to let me know a rider is off balance. He also knows if a rider needs help following a set of instructions, which he carries out on his own, or if the rider needs to work for it. We helped one rider visually by throwing a Frisbee and having the rider ride to it. Once there, Vali would drop his head and pick the Frisbee up in his mouth. Comic relief can go a long way.

  Valentino’s story does not end here. I, with the help of staff, volunteers, and riders at Therapeutic Animal Partners, nominated Valentino for PATH (Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship) International Equine of the Year. On November 12, at an international awards banquet in Lexington, Kentucky, it was announced that our little rescue horse, Valentino, had won this prestigious honor.

Every day, Valentino inspires me. If he can survive abandonment, then I, too, can survive difficult things. If he can overcome his fears, then so can I. And, so can everyone who is inspired by Valentino and his story.

Wow. Thank you so much, Lisa, for sharing Valentino's story with us! Amazing. To learn more about Lisa, as well as her brand new novel called THE OPIUM EQUATION, please visit her website at http://www.lisawysocky.com./

Life's Lucky Lesson

I'm always telling my kids how lucky they are. Do you ever do that? I tell them they're lucky they live in a country where they can make choices, have clean water, eat three meals a day, have clothes, etc. It's the same line we all heard growing up, and I think many of us dish it to our children now.

I am constantly telling my youngest in particular how lucky she is to have her very own pony and to be able to go and ride and learn all about her animal and horses in general. I wasn't sure how much she was grasping the concept until this past weekend.

My cousin Jessica owns a ranch http://www.suncolorsranch.com (check out the site. She has some nice horses)--anyway my daughter and her friend took a drive out with me to Jessie's place because there is a therapuetic riding center around the corner that we were donating some products to from Professional's Choice http://www.profchoice.com to and we were invited to take a tour of the center and ranch.

We picked Jessie up and ten minutes later pulled up to the center, which was a sprawling, pristine place. Last year when the fires burned through So. Cal they burned through this place and actually the house on the property is gone, but thankfully no horses lost their lives. It was kind of eye awakening for me to see how much the fire burned. My parents had to evacuate during it and we moved horses, but it was diverted two miles before it reached their place. Anyway, we pulled up and in the arena there was a private lesson going on with a girl of about fifteen. She had a pretty severe case of cerebral palsy and to watch her was completely inspiring. She could not sit up on her own, or hold on to the reins, but you could tell by watching her and the pony together that there was something very spiritual going on, and there was a healing of sorts taking place. At one point she wrapped her arms around the pony and gave him a big hug. I took notice of her mother and how dedicated she was to her daughter and her comittment to help her lead and live a full life. The instructors and volunteers were as amazing as the student herself--each one working toward a goal. When the young girl was taken off the pony, she smiled and it was so obvious to me that she truly enjoyed being up on that horse.

On the drive home, my daughter and her friend asked me about the girl and what was wrong with her. I explained in eight-year-old terminology what cerebral palsy is and how it affects people who have it. We talked a lot about what her life might be like and what her parents have to do to help her. I think it was eye opening for my little one. That night as she got ready for bed and said her prayers, she prayed for the girl on the pony, and she thanked God for giving her, her very own pony and for making her a healthy kid.

Maybe it's better sometimes instead of hearing how "lucky you are," in actually seeing it. Now, I'm not saying this child is a problem or this is a negative to be physically or mentally handicaped. Not at all. I think we are all God's children and in saying that I don't think He makes any mistakes. What I am saying is that I can't imagine it's an easy life for the person afflicted or the people who take care of them, and when we turn on the news everyday and there is nothing good to hear, and we get the bills in the mail, or we have to do something we don't want to, etc., that it's in those moments we look to a child suffering from a disease who is willing to go out and work hard, play hard and make a connection with a horse or any animal, then we can stop (as my child did) and take a look at our own lives and think--"Wow. I'm pretty lucky."

I love to hear any of your inspiring stories. I think we can all use some good news these days. So bring them on-feel good, get inspired, be grateful and feel lucky!

Cheers,
Michele

P.S. Update on Krissy-- Blood tests came back on Saturday and Fibrogen level was at 450! No fever, but she was one sick girl. She's on Azium and bute for another week, as well as Red Cell as the virus & bacterial infection caused her to become anemic. She is now allowed daily 30 minute tack walks around the ranch, so it looks as if I'm back in the saddle again, and we're both happy about that!