(This post’s photo from the family farm circa 2004. From left to right: Tommie, Josh, and Trevor. This post’s content is inspired by conversations with vet tech, horse person, and my mother, Sandie Gaylinn)
My childhood home life was centered around animals. I grew up on a working farm, with cats and dogs as siblings, and a responsibility to help care for the horses, chickens, and all the rest. I had daily close contact with many animals and we formed long-lasting relationships. We grew up together, did activities together, and enjoyed each other’s company. I cared for them when they were sick, and sometimes they would reach out to me when I was in need of comfort. Although we were obviously very different, and by necessity the animals had less freedom, I found it hard to think of them as “just” pets or livestock. They were part of the family.
I believe that all mammals are very similar in terms of their emotions and intelligence. This comes from many years of observation, empathy, and intuition. It’s hard for me to prove it, yet it’s harder still for me to dismiss it. Humans are more intelligent than other animals in a few narrow yet critical ways, but when I hear someone say non-human animals are “less conscious”, or that they can’t possibly comprehend the world like us, I get offended. It just seems naive, given what I’ve seen. I don’t fault others for that opinion. I assume it comes from a lack of exposure, or from human-centric bias. Of course, I have my own biases. The scientific evidence is far from conclusive, so I figure we should all keep an open mind.
What do I mean when I say all mammals are very similar? For one, it seems the palette of emotions is basically the same. We experience happiness, sadness, anger, fear, and pain in roughly the same way (which is why animal abuse is morally wrong). Each species has different body language, but if you pay close attention, you can learn to read their emotions quite clearly. We also respond to the world in similar ways. A sudden windfall makes us happy and excited, but it may inspire envy in others who see it. This is true whether we’re talking about humans, dogs, or squirrels. Many emotional responses seem universal.
Each individual has a unique personality, which means some emotions and responses are more common for them. Some folks are more optimistic, quick to anger, or self-conscious. Some less. Each species has personalities in a particular range. Dogs tend to be outgoing approval-seekers; cats are aloof and independent; horses are social, but skittish. But these stereotypes only apply on average. It’s common to see cats who act like dogs, or vice versa. There’s also a lot of overlap between species, which is why it’s easy to make friends with an animal whose personality aligns with your own.
When it comes to intelligence, there’s a lot more variation between species, but I wouldn’t rank animals by IQ. Each species and each individual is different, with unique strengths and weaknesses. Animals can be incredibly intelligent, but only in ways that are relevant to their lives. It’s unfair to judge a horse by its ability to do arithmetic, just as it’s unfair to judge a human by its ability to discriminate odors. Sadly, this makes humans generally blind to the ways animals may be more intelligent than us. We don’t tend to see or appreciate what doesn’t matter in our lives, we only see what we have in common. That makes social intelligence a good example, since many mammals specialize in it.
Horses are very social animals. A herd has a strict pecking order, but it’s not so straightforward as an ordered list. Their relationships can be just as nuanced, contextual, and tangled as with humans. Since horses spend so much of their time grazing, a school cafeteria feels like the right metaphor. They form cliques, with different levels of status. Some individuals move freely from table to table, hanging out with the nerds one day and the social climbers the next, while others get chased away if they try to do the same. Horses with higher status will tease, harass, and steal from those with lower status, mostly just to assert dominance. Certain foods or activities may become trendy, starting with one individual, then spreading to a clique or the whole herd. Sometimes, this is how a horse manages to climb the social ladder.
When a new kid comes to the lunch room, they usually get hazed. As a prey species that depends on the support of their herd for survival, horses are generally shy and cautious by nature. The newcomer knows they are at the mercy of the herd and must make a good impression, so they tend to suck it up and bear the torment. Usually, they’re welcome to join the nerd table, hanging out with their fellow losers until they work their way up the ladder. Horses with higher social status will make a point of asserting dominance at every opportunity. Occasionally, they choose to extend an olive branch instead, but this is a risky move which can have complex social repercussions.
At least, that’s how it usually goes. When my mom introduced Dakota to the herd, that’s what we prepared for. To try and head-off the worst of the hazing, we put Dakota in an adjoining paddock for a week. This way, the herd could get over their initial excitement, and Dakota got a chance to learn how things worked and what she was getting into. She observed the herd’s schedule, habits, and social dynamics. She saw them waiting in the lunch line and bickering over the water trough and the best grazing spots. She could see who the cool kids were, what set them apart from the others, and how they would assert themselves over the nerds.
When we let Dakota into the main field, we were all on hand to make sure it didn’t get out of hand, and to intervene if necessary. The whole herd quickly figured out what was going on and lined up (in their usual cliques, sorted by pecking order) near the fence to get a good look and wait their turn to pick on the newcomer. But Dakota took everyone by surprise. She stood tall and proud, walked straight up to the dominant male, and kicked him so hard it knocked him off his feet! The gelding, Johnny, couldn’t let this stand, of course. He gave her back as good as she dished out, but after that demonstration of her strength and confidence, he didn’t want to push his luck. It was over in under a minute, and the others were left so in awe of her that they’d spend the next few weeks sucking up.
Of course, violence was what we on the sidelines most feared. Even with no shoes on, as was the case here, a direct kick from a horse can be incredibly powerful and damaging. But we were actually relieved at what we saw. Dakota was going for dramatic effect, not injury. Her blow wasn’t very hard. She managed to hit Johnny in just the right spot with just enough force to throw him off balance. It only worked because she caught him off guard. It ended the conflict so quickly because it made him look like a fool, and shook his confidence. In effect, it was a bluff, and one that worked really well on this mild-mannered herd where even the “tough guys” were pretty gentle. A well-timed sucker punch made her look like a total badass, even though she would have lost in a fair fight.
It’s easy to imagine this scene in a cafeteria, but it was remarkable to see with horses, who are rarely so audacious. With one decisive move, Dakota asserted herself as the dominant female, upending the pecking order, and bypassing weeks or months of conflict and social climbing. It was smart, effective, and seemingly premeditated. She had a week to prepare. When she was led to the main field, she knew all eyes were on her. She put on her game face and acted smoothly, without hesitation. Did she reason about social dynamics and fight tactics? Did she choose a strategy and plan its execution? Or was she just improvising, driven by instinct to do what “felt right”? It’s hard to say. I’d say it was probably a blend of both, and that the balance doesn’t matter. Intelligence is intelligence. This was a smart move, regardless of where it came from.
I hope this is a compelling example of animal intelligence. If you’re thinking, “maybe that looks like a school cafeteria, but what humans do is totally different,” then I ask you to reconsider. People are very good at finding reasons for what we do. The nerds are outcasts, not because of some arbitrary social hierarchy, but because they like Pokémon and other objectively uncool things. We don’t bite one another on the flank just to inflict pain and embarrassment, like horses do. We use words and reasoning to settle disputes, like when we sling insults at each other. To me, it often feels like humans (self included) are behaving exactly like “more primitive” mammals. We just cover everything with a social veneer that makes it feel more sophisticated. When looking at human conflicts, I find it’s quite helpful to strip the words and meaning away and instead look at the raw power dynamics and emotions. Often that explains the situation much better than the stories people tell.
What do you think? Am I being too generous with animals, and seeing what I want to see? Does this remind you of another cool animal story you’d like to share? Any questions about horses that need answering? If so, please leave a comment below and join the conversation. If you want to learn more about animal intelligence, I recommend these books about ravens and octopuses. Very cool animals, far less familiar to most of us than mammals, and yet surprisingly similar in many ways.
Thinking with Nate 