My favorite scientific discovery is the first recorded observation of toolmaking by chimpanzees. This discovery was made by British anthropologist and primatologist Jane Goodall, my personal idol as a woman and a scientist. Before this discovery was made, scientists differentiated humans from other animals by their ability to create and use tools. This definition was utterly upturned in 1960, when Jane Goodall observed chimpanzees in Gombe Stream National Park using sticks to fish termites out of their mounds. The chimp would select a thin stick from nearby, insert it into the mound, and pull it out covered in termites that were promptly eaten. Goodall's discovery forced scientists to reconsider previous ideas about the perceived gap between human and animal intelligence, ushering in a new era of ethology. It also altered public perception of great apes, leading to widespread acceptance and celebration of their cognitive ability. The tool use of chimpanzees radically changed the way human beings see other primates. It contributed greatly to our understanding of animal intelligence and humbled us greatly, allowing us to acknowledge the fact that humans, while innovative and cognitively gifted, are animals as well.

I spent ten years riding, volunteering, and eventually working for a nonprofit riding school that was notable for both its Christian values and wide array of maladjusted rescue horses. I met my best friend there: an American Paint named Cherokee who, inexplicably, did not despise me quite as much as he did the rest of the human race. Nobody was fully aware of his past, but we all understood to some degree that his aggressive nature stemmed from a life of mistreatment. When I became an official employee at the age of fourteen, it became my job to teach Cherokee to move properly under saddle. This wound up spelling disaster for all involved when the strength returned to his topline and he felt good enough to launch unsuspecting ten-year-olds clear across the arena the second he lost his patience. My original task was quickly swapped out in favor of addressing this liability. It seemed that the moment we made any sort of progress, Cherokee developed another behavioral issue that was then my responsibility. I didn't necessarily mind spending the extra time with him, but eventually he reached a point where I was one of three students unafraid to get on his back. I have a vivid memory of when, three years into our gauntlet of positive reinforcement, I caved and asked my boss what she recommended I do to stop him from kicking out at people on the ground. "He's just stupid," she'd told me, dead serious. "When he gets like that you need to take a crop and spank him until he hollers." I was dumbfounded. Utterly flabbergasted. This self-proclaimed woman of God, who told us she loved her horses more than she did her children, had just informed me that it wasn't just okay, but encouraged that I beat a horse whose only crime was victimhood. When I questioned this, she looked almost as confused as I felt. She then informed me that my friends and fellow riders had been "managing his behavior" in that manner the entire time I'd been riding there. When work was finished for the day, I pulled over onto the side of the road and wept until my head throbbed. Never in my life had I felt so utterly powerless. That was my horse. They had been beating him this entire time. I'd never have even known had my boss not been so brazen about her endorsement of animal abuse. This revelation; the idea that anyone could even think to strike a living, breathing, and feeling creature; launched me into animal advocacy. I began dedicating my free time to better understanding modern animal training methods--reinforcing desired behaviors and dissuading unwanted ones while remaining gentle and consistent so as not to cause stress. I learned that my barn's common methods of training, even those that did not seem outwardly violent, taught humans to treat horses as lesser, as creatures that should fear what happens when they misunderstand or react instinctively. It disgusted me. I would love to say that I horsenapped Cherokee and he is now living in my college dorm, but in truth he was shipped away to live with a friend of my boss. I think of him often and (though I should know better than to anthropomorphize) I hope he forgives me for not doing more to help him. The best I can do now is get my zoology degree and prove to people that animals like him deserve far better than harsh punishments and lives of fear.