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The language of the autistic child is similar to that of the flight animal, and his flight mechanism is far more finely tuned than that of a nonautistic child. The autistic child will almost never make eye-to-eye contact.

Autistic children are also acutely sensitive to body language. In a way similar to that of horses, they rely heavily on it for communication. So it is appropriate to briefly explore autism in this regard.

Autism is a neurological dysfunction that has many different levels of severity and whose cause is not entirely understood. Because the brain is a complex organ, any part or parts of it affected by disease or mutation can cause a wide variety of dysfunctions. What is clear is that the brain becomes overactive in certain areas, which could be a reaction to underdevelopment, or lack of development in other areas.

Autism is not a disease—one is simply born with the condition—and there is no dramatic cure. The word “autism” conveys to many of us a child or person locked into some strange world. Often mute, they seem inaccessible and removed from normality. Autistics are noted for their ability to concentrate deeply on some tiny aspect of their surroundings; they might lock onto a minute detail such as a pencil rolled between the fingers. They seem afraid and often hide from a direct gaze, finding odd corners to crouch in and immersing themselves in repetitive activity. Even less severe autistics can have difficulty relating to other people: they seem unable to read people well or to respond. They are people for whom the jigsaw of life is missing key pieces.

The autistic, like the horse, thinks spatially, or in pictures. Autistic people often find written language a struggle, and they mix up words and symbols for sounds and sometimes cannot even recognize specific sounds. However, autistics have the same range of intelligence as do nonautistic people. In fact, they are often very gifted in some areas while below par in others.

Recently there has been a considerable increase in horseback riding therapy centers where children with a wide range of disabilities can safely, under trained management, ride horses. Reports on the success of these ventures vary, but generally it is noticed that the act of riding is stimulating for autistic children. Riding provides the autistic child who is unable to walk with a freedom of movement over which he or she has some measure of control.

The close proximity of horse and rider also seems to be attractive to autistics and often helps to arrest violent or repetitive behavior. The child with high anxiety or suffering panic attacks almost instantly becomes calm once seated on a horse. The act of riding also helps the children to use muscles that would otherwise not be so actively employed and so their all-around development is enhanced while the sound of trees rustling, the feel of the wind in their faces and the smell of nature as they ride along combine to produce a complete and stimulating environment.

The horse and the autistic child have much in common. Noise, particularly loud and unusual sounds, can be terrifying to both. The horse thrives on routine, and autistics are almost fanatical about routine; one thing out of place and they are likely to throw a tantrum, which makes education very difficult and much communication depends upon body language.

A handshake might be perceived as an attack to such a child, who will often approach you from behind, just as the horse in my round pen does when I do Join-Up. Autistic children will try not to look you straight in the eye, but firm eye contact, conveying focus, plays an important part in their communication system, as does touch. Many such children want to be hugged but cannot handle the psychic distress that this stimulation causes. As with the horse a certain quality of touch is acceptable, but it must never be forced. Both will become very accustomed to seeing the outline of a person they deal with every day and will recognize familiar sounds and shapes. The horse is immediately alarmed when faced with something that has an unfamiliar shape and is liable to react with extreme fear, even spinning around and bolting. The autistic child will almost certainly fear strange sights or sounds, which can be a trigger to violent or repetitive behavior.

Perhaps it is not surprising that the horse, a visual thinker with an extraordinary ability to sense the intentions of its rider, is quite comfortable being ridden by autistics and, furthermore, is able to cope with their often unusual behavior.

My interest in autistic children is not entirely founded on the similarities they share with the horse. I also think in pictures, and perhaps this has something to do with my success in working with horses. For a long time it never occurred to me that everyone didn’t think that way. I can still remember the floor plan of a house that my grandparents lived in—each room, how the furniture was arranged and where the windows were. That house was demolished when I was eighteen months old. When it came to designing Flag Is Up Farms, I had no difficulty in planning it out because I could see the end result. It was the same with our house and the subsequent alterations and extensions that I have made.

Temple Grandin is an autistic and a well-known author of several books and articles on her unusual life and chosen area of study—the design of feed lots, slaughterhouses, corrals and farms that handle animals. I first heard about her in the mid-1990s when her book Thinking in Pictures was recommended to me. I devoured it and was awestruck by the similarities that I found when comparing her thought processes to mine. I was impressed by her ability to recognize and reduce stress levels in cattle being handled in chutes. She used her special ability as an autistic with a pictorial memory to determine factors that terrified the cattle. She is now designing handling facilities for animals by employing concepts that would have been considered foolish and unnecessary just a couple of decades ago.

Temple Grandin has revolutionized the way in which cattle are brought to slaughter. Her autism means that she finds it difficult to cope with being touched and she fears loud and sudden noises, just as cattle do. So she brought a particular insight and sensibility to the problem of avoiding panic in cattle at stockyards. Her solution was simple, but brilliant: have the cattle follow a circular path, since moving in circles is in their nature and comforts them.

Though seemingly cut off from the world, the autistic may have lessons to offer us. The ways of her fellow humans confound Temple Grandin but she saw something terribly lacking in the way we handle animals destined for human consumption. Her thinking has had a profound impact on the handling of cattle, sheep and swine all over the world.

Although I am not a vegetarian, I firmly believe that the handling of all animals destined for slaughter ought to be done with the primary objective of eliminating stress, trauma or pain.

I invited Ms. Grandin to join me at a demonstration in 1998. She is the only person who specializes in animal behavior whom I have ever allowed to take a microphone during my question-and-answer period and respond to my answers with comments of her own. This was a dangerous thing for me to do—there is a risk of being contradicted, or of disrupting my work with the raw horses. But I not only have confidence in my concepts, I have also come to respect her opinion. It turned out to be enjoyable and I would welcome the opportunity to do it again, but only with Temple Grandin. I felt this incredible sense of safety. In her response she is a flight animal, or as close to one as I have ever met. In my excitement at first meeting her that evening, I thrust out my hand and she ducked under the bleachers. Quickly, the horse trainer in me kicked in and I began to move more slowly and cautiously.

What Temple Grandin offers is a keen insight into what a flight animal goes through. “If you’re a visual thinker,” she once said, “it’s easier to identify with animals.” As an autistic, she has great difficulty understanding human emotions and codes of behavior; the touch of another human appeals intellectually to her but its physical aspects terrify and overwhelm her. Yet she reads the moods and signs of animals as she would a book. Cattle and autistics share common ground, because both are frightened by high-pitched sounds, sudden loud noises, air hissing. Temple Grandin understands very well why cattle fear shadows and sudden movements, how feeling and emotion is communicated by the body—even through