AdventuresNW
My horse, Joey, and I were nearing the top of a ridge, glad that the last 15 miles back to the trailhead were downhill. The area had changed since our previous trip many years ago. Although fires had devastated the forest, in its aftermath it had left vast vistas and fields of wildflowers. As we approached the ridgetop, mountain peaks towering above us, we were startled by a rushing sound coming from the ridgeline above, soft at first, then expanding into a bellowing wind that filled the air around us. Joey looked over his shoulder at the mountain tops. I felt a twinge of fear until I realized he was not afraid. Suddenly, he answered the call of the wind with the loudest, longest whinny I have ever heard. He called, and called, over and over, his whole body trembling with the effort. The wayward wind filled me with awe as it called, and my horse called back. When the wind gradually died, I softly said, “Joey, we can’t go with those horses in the sky, maybe someday, but not today,” and we headed down the mountain.
This incredible bonding we experience is the result of chemicals and brain circuitry, but there is also something else. Karma? Love?
How I ended up on that ridge alone with my horse is another story. Most of our rides together are far less dramatic, but they almost always end with peace and tranquility. So, what is it about horses, humans, and trails? How did they develop this incredible awareness, this profound bond with us? The short answer is that it’s mainly chemicals and brain circuits. But it’s also something else.
Both horses and humans are herd animals. Neither can survive without the herd. So, nature devised some incredible survival tools, such as hormones. They are our body’s chemical messengers, and once released by glands into the bloodstream, they control everything—from how the body functions to how you feel.
One group of hormones is nicknamed the “feel-good do-good hormones,” not just due to the happy and euphoric feelings they produce but also the altruistic feelings they engender towards others. Dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin are euphoric hormones that result in happiness, bonding, kindness, and empathy, including compassion and understanding for others, allowing us to relate to people and animals successfully. It’s not just what we are saying to others that is important, but how they interpret it. These feelings are picked up by humans and animals, resulting in the release of the same hormones, a happy contagion. Endorphins are natural brain chemicals that act as nature’s painkillers and reduce stress by moderating the adrenaline rush, helping to avoid injury.
The endocrine system that produces hormones works with the nervous system to influence many aspects of behavior. The autonomic nervous system kicks in during times of danger or high excitement. Adrenaline shifts blood flow from non-essential areas to the muscles and heart, allowing instant flight from danger or increased speed in a competition.
However, there can be a disadvantage to calming chemicals. Sometimes, we are a little too calm. One time, we were slowly moving up a trail. I grabbed berries to the right, and Joey grabbed grass to the left. Feel-good hormones lulled both of us until I was startled by an object just a few feet in front of us. A doe had stepped out on the trail, her mouth full of whatever deer browse on. She stared at us with a typical deer-in-the-headlights look. She was frozen. I was frozen. Joey had not yet spotted her. Horses and deer typically are not afraid of each other, but this was unexpected, and she was far too close. I knew the next few seconds were going to be very interesting. There was nothing to do but hang on. I knew Joey would spin, but I didn’t know which way. He lifted his head and spotted the doe. He and the doe exploded in opposite directions. Joey spun 180 degrees faster than any competitive reining horse, and I could feel his rear legs flex and prepare to propel us down the steep trail at 40 mph.
The danger from bolting is likely a rider’s greatest fear. A racehorse can accelerate from 0 to 40 mph in just a few feet. Jockeys describe coming out of the gate at a racetrack like being shot from a cannon. Without a good grip on the mane, the horse could leave them behind. Yet they know it is coming and the direction they are going. Picture the trail rider whose horse suddenly sees a terrifying object on a trail. It may be in front, back, above, below, or to the side.
In this case, horse, human, and deer were all flooded with chemicals. Adrenaline allowed us to flee, but endorphins permitted us to remain calm and gave us the heightened awareness that made it possible to deal with the issue. The human realized she should not jump off her horse because he could hit her when he spun. Adrenaline increased the blood flow to the heart and muscles as the horse spun out of harm’s way and prepared to run. But endorphins kicked in, and panic did not overcome him. Recognizing the deer, he stopped. The 40-mph downhill dash was averted.
The adrenaline of the sympathetic nervous system propels the racehorse around a track or the bike rider down the trail. Endorphins moderate this, countering panic and keeping the spooked trail horse from running far or crashing into anything. They enable an injured hiker to crawl back up to the trail after falling. These profound evolutionary tools help humans and non-human animals deal with dangers and injury.
We were again on a trail, Joey and I. It was a usual ride; feel-good hormones were high—until we heard something in the brush 50 feet off the trail at the four o’clock position. It was too loud for a deer and, very likely, a bear. Fortunately, it was behind us; best to keep going. A little adrenaline kicked in, but there was no real concern until we heard a louder commotion at the nine o’clock position.
The feel-good hormones evaporated, and adrenaline took charge. We were between a cub and its angry mama. To complicate the situation, the trail went straight for about 100 feet ahead of us but then hooked directly towards Mama Bear, then abruptly north out of danger. Joey and I were in a typical northwest forest with downed trees and challenging terrain. There was no other route.
We hear a lot of advice on dealing with wildlife. Play dead (not applicable here; Joey would not be the least bit interested in playing dead). Look big (I’m a human on a horse; together, we weigh 1100 lbs. and are eight feet tall.) There was little time to do more than react. The message from the mama bear was short and clear: “GET AWAY FROM THE CUB.”
It was interesting riding Joey towards an angry bear. It was the most reactive I have ever seen him, but the bear quieted once we moved away from the cub. The adrenaline level dropped. Relative calmness took over. Some of this is due to the human-animal bond. Joey and I had stayed relatively calm because we trusted each other; there were mutual dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin levels.
Once, we met four runners, running abreast towards us on a road. I felt Joey tense. I, asked the runners to slow down with a hand signal. When I thanked them for stopping, they said they didn’t realize that running towards us was frightening to a horse. A biker coming downhill didn’t stop or slow despite my calls and hand signals. When he finally stopped, he explained that he knew to stop but wanted to get closer. He was surprised that both horse and rider could be frightened by his approach. A hiker we met was afraid of horses, so we moved out of his way to give him space. An inexperienced biker didn’t want to stop on the steep trail for fear that she could not get started again. We moved off the trail for her, even though horses have the right-of-way. These are all examples of situations where trail users need to register the issues and feelings of others. We need empathy and concern for each other.
But we also need plain old education. We need stop signs, speed limits, and one-way street signs in life. And we often require flashing lights, bells, and drop-gates to get a point across. Some people need to be told not to approach a cuddly-looking bear to pet it.
All creatures exist in their own time and space. Prey animals are frightened by fast-moving objects. A horse’s eye can see a fast-moving object but may not be able to identify it immediately. They are reactive animals; they survive by running away. Their large eyes are positioned on the side of their heads, allowing broad panoramic vision of almost 350 degrees—they can see a lot but may not recognize what they’re seeing. They will run first, then later stop to focus on what the object may be.
Horses are incredibly perceptive animals that pick up on subtle environmental changes. They have an innate ability to sense energy emitted by those around them. The human’s energy level affects the horse, and vice versa. It seems contradictory, but horses are often drawn to troubled people. Some are quieter when close to an agitated person, which makes them excellent therapy animals. This is the beauty of nature—we can all sense empathy and kindness, and it’s contagious.
Horses benefit from the same positive feelings as humans. Although we need to train horses in order to be safe around them, the concept of the human being as the passive leader has replaced the idea of alpha domination, one the horse gravitates to and bonds with. This incredible bonding we experience results from chemicals and brain circuitry, but there is also something else. Karma? Love? No name can encompass it. The feeling is beyond comprehension.
So, what triggers these feel-good-do-good chemical reactions? Food, music, cuddling, laughter, exercise, and friendship will do it. But high on the list is relating to animals, spending time in nature, and being on a trail, and for me, riding a horse on a trail just about tops the list.
We can’t make laws or instruction manuals covering all the idiosyncrasies of behavior and situations, especially when other species are involved. But genuine compassion and concern for all living things will cover all the bases.
It’s been years since the restless, wayward wind called to Joey and me from the mountaintops, and Joey called back to the wind. To this day, I still feel that extreme awe, peace, power, and joy from those few minutes.
Sharon Hoofnagle practiced veterinary medicine for 37 years in Whatcom County, WA devoted wxclusively to the horses. She enjoys kayaking, sailing, and hiking. Being on a trail on horseback provides peace and pleasure that balances a busy life. She is a founding member of Whatcom Back Country Horsemen.
