On Amsterdam Avenue by the Metropolitan Opera House—a day before Mayor Mamdani announced his new free-opera-tickets initiative—two supernumerary performers in Puccini’s “La Bohème,” the Met’s most popular opera, disembarked from a horse trailer. Wanda, a donkey, and Max, a horse, split their time between a farm upstate and a stable in the Bronx. They’re “Bohème” veterans, and that morning was the season’s first full-dress rehearsal. “Here she is!” the animals’ agent, Nancy Novograd, a silver-haired former lawyer in sunglasses and a dark jacket, said. “There’s Wanda! Isn’t she a cutie? And Max is handsome and magnificent.” Wanda is gray, with white-grizzled accents, upturned ears, and a classically round torso; Max is a glossy bay, with a mane like Moe Howard’s bangs. “And the personalities are what count, right?” Novograd went on. “It’s always personality. For animals, we call it temperament.” She owns a company called All Tame Animals (“Anything from elephants to insects”), which matches productions with show-biz-ready beasts. “Bold is the key,” she said. “It’s the same with dogs. If they’re not confident, they can’t do it.” Wanda, eighteen, has a temperament of supreme unflappability. “A lot of donkeys won’t let you touch their feet,” Novograd said. “She’s special in that way.” Wanda’s other steady gig is an annual Palm Sunday procession at a church uptown.
In the parking garage, the animals were unfazed by noisy construction and enthusiastic fans. “Hey, the stars of the show!” a man said. A handler made a call: “Hi, we have the horse and donkey. Are you ready?” The stars proceeded through the “horse door,” up a ramp, and down a hallway with a red vinyl floor, passing costume racks and photos of “Das Rheingold” and “Turandot.” Onstage, they crossed a set strewn with paper snowflakes where, in Act III, Mimì and Rodolfo would sing “Addio, dolce svegliare” (“Farewell, sweet awakening”) and agree to break up in the spring. The group reached the cavernous stage-left space, where they spend Act I, and stood alongside two-story façades of Parisian apartment buildings and, for the evening’s updated production of Mozart’s “Così Fan Tutte,” Coney Island-style backdrops (hot-dog stand, bearded-lady sideshow). “I’m coming back tonight for ‘Così,’ ” Novograd said. “I’ve got a snake in it.”
Novograd has worked with the Met since 1998, when she was hired “to bring the horses and work with Mr. Zeffirelli, for ‘Carmen.’ ” Once, she recalled, he’d singled out a nervous equestrian: “You! You look like you’re going to your husband’s funeral on the back of another man’s horse!” Novograd laughed. “He was so attentive to detail.” Opera’s animal friendliness has waned a bit. “ ‘Aida’ should have elephants,” Novograd said. Gone are “Carmen” ’s and “Aida” ’s horses and “Hansel and Gretel” ’s cat. Then again, “Così Fan Tutte” usually lacks a snake; this one has a boa constrictor.
A soundproof curtain descended, and the opera began. Only occasionally did a note seep through. Wanda’s handler, a young woman in a Ford Mustang T-shirt, helped Wanda into a pointy red hat with ear holes, a neck ruffle, and a fancy blanket with a “P” on it—Zeffirelli originals—and sat on Mimì’s fainting couch. She ate a granola bar and checked her phone. Wanda, mildly curious, nuzzled the phone. Wanda plays the donkey of a toy seller, Parpignol (Gregory Warren); she pulls his lavishly painted cart outside Café Momus on Christmas Eve. Warren, a tenor, arrived in a pink harlequin outfit, with knee socks and buckled shoes. His stubble was obscured by a full face of clown makeup. “I’m also in ‘Lincoln in the Bardo,’ ” he said. He picked up a Napoleon-style hat with pink hair attached, put it on his head, and fastened the chin strap. “In this, my line is ‘Ecco i giocattoli di Parpignol!’—‘Here are Parpignol’s toys!’ ” he added.
The soundproof curtain came up, and a crew in T-shirts (Knicks, Amoeba Music) loaded out the garret set. The animals and handlers headed to the stage-left wing and waited alongside smartly dressed, whispering children; Warren did some stretching and bouncing. Onstage, two hundred townsfolk sang, and a stilt walker strolled. Then the big moment: Parpignol sang, Wanda pulled the toy cart onstage (guided by her handler, now in a cloak and top hat), and kids swarmed them, clamoring for treats. Wanda remained chill. Back offstage, she waited for Max to drop off Musetta as a pit crew swiftly removed her ruffle and her hat. Soon, with Max, she was back in the trailer, chomping on a peppermint. “Goodbye!” Novograd said. She’d return that night for the snake-handling. Meanwhile, “we have a dog with a late call today on ‘NCIS: New York.’ He’s a fabulous dog, a blue-pit mix, and he is beloved wherever he goes.” ♦