Creature Feature: Don't Tickle This Elmo

"He got famous this Christmas, didn't he?" laughed Kathie Persan of Amagansett. However, the Elmo in question was not a garish wiggly, giggly toy, but an extremely large, extremely handsome horse of distinguished demeanor and equally distinguished ancestry who, if tickled, would doubtless respond with a puzzled glance and a dismissive swish of the tail.

Elmo is an example of one of the rare breeds of domestic animals to be found on the East End. He is a Cleveland Bay, a breed of horse teetering on the brink of extinction. Hailing from Great Britain, Cleveland Bays were the most popular and influential breed in Europe during the 18th century.

As coach horses extraordinaire, Cleveland Bay stallions were widely exported to improve other European breeds such as the Hannoverian and the Oldenburg. But in modern times their fortunes have changed: The American Livestock Breeds Conservancy estimated in 1994 that there were fewer than 200 registered Cleveland Bays globally.

Ms. Persan had never heard of Cleveland Bays when she saw one advertised for sale in Newsday. Intrigued, she consulted local experts, all of whom had nothing but the highest praise for the breed. And, since she was looking for a big, good-natured horse for her daughter, Kirsten, to ride, it wasn't long before the big bay horse came home to her Amagansett farm.

Big And Strong

And Elmo is a big horse, not so much in sheer height, but in width of bone and expanse of muscle. The breed originated in Yorkshire, an area with very heavy clay soil. The horses had to have tremendous strength and stamina to pull plows, wagons, and coaches through this deep, often slippery, substance.

Like all of his breed, Elmo is a rich mahogany brown with jet black lower legs and an equally inky-colored mane and tail. But his most distinctive feature is his temperament. "He has such a sweet nature," said Ms. Persan. "There's not a mean bone in his body. He's tremendously willing to please and always tries his hardest to do what's asked of him."

Road To Hell

So what led to the demise of the Cleveland Bay, this paragon of equine virtues and the oldest indigenous horse breed of Great Britain? The ever developing science of road improvement, for starters. By the 19th century macadamized roads had been introduced and there was less need for a horse that could power its way through mire and muck. Speed had become more important than strength. Cleveland Bays might well adopt the maxim favored by many horseback riders of today: "The road to hell is paved."

In the 20th century, injury, in the form of the internal combustion engine, had been added to insult and by the 1960s there were only two purebred Cleveland Bay stallions left in Britain. Fortunately, a fairy godmother appeared on the scene, in the form of Her Majesty the Queen of England. Her promotion of these horses has led to a steady resurgence of interest in the breed.

It is quite probable that, if not for the intervention of this royal personage, Elmo and others of his breed wouldn't exist.

Elmo's individual existence was gravely threatened just over a year ago when he nearly succumbed to the number one killer of domestic horses, colic. Though the exteriors of horses could hardly be improved upon, the same cannot be said for their interiors.

Their digestive systems are particularly vulnerable. Horses are incapable of vomiting and this, coupled with the tendency of the intestines to twist if the animal rolls about violently while in pain, can lead from simple abdominal pain to a life-threatening condition very quickly.

Elmo's colic was terribly severe and utterly unforeseen. He was completely healthy, but, while rolling on the ground to scratch his itchy spots, as horses routinely do, he somehow managed to flip a section of his intestines over his spleen. It quickly became apparent to his alert owners that something was very wrong with Elmo.

"It was really obvious that this wasn't a mild case of colic," recalled Ms. Persan. "He was in horrible pain. Groaning and trying to go down."

Saved Again

His frightened owners loaded Elmo into the horse trailer and hurried to Huntington, the site of the nearest veterinary clinic that could perform the necessary surgery.

"They just opened him up and flipped the intestine back where it should be. He came home with a body bandage that stayed for two months. That came off and a week or so later the staples came out. You can hardly see where they made the incision now," Ms. Persan said.

So, even if his name has been temporarily appropriated by an obnoxious toy, Elmo has reason to be grateful. He's been twice saved: once by royalty, and once, more relevant to him, by his very loving owners.