Cross-species Communication—Part 2

Last time I wrote about cross-species communication that others have explored or have had. This time I'd like to describe some personal experiences.

We may not be able to chat with an animal, but it is foolish to think that there is an unbridgeable gap between us and them. They have many subtle ways of communicating with each other and we can close that gap if we allow ourselves to. If we let go of our myth of superiority and permit the more primal parts of us to become involved, we can realize a deeper connection to other animal species. A good way to begin is to shut our mouth, slow down, pay attention, and open to the possibilities that lie within.

I have had a couple examples over the years of a kind of communication with animals, that have deeply impacted me. In the first case I was working in the yard when I had my attention diverted by birds sounding an alarm. I looked toward the commotion and spotted a black snake raiding a bluebird nesting box. A couple of nestlings had been scattered to the ground and a couple of others had been eaten. I had been enjoying watching these birds over the past few weeks, so I chased the snake off, and replaced the scattered nestlings in the box. I then had to repeat my intervention twice over the next hour or so, as the persistent reptile returned for a follow-up meal attempt.

Later in the afternoon, when things had quieted down, I sat in a swing across the yard from the nesting box, contemplating the traumatic incident. The father bluebird flew to a tree just a few feet away, stared at me intently for a few minutes, and then flew back to his family. These birds are very shy, yet this bird approached me and perched close by. Was he thanking me? It felt like some kind of communication.

In the second case I had just returned from a 10-day silent meditation retreat, so I was in a very calm state of mind. Walking down a path through the woods, I spotted a tiny fawn ahead of me. I stopped and simply watched it for a few minutes. Maybe I transmitted a message of peace to the little guy, because it began to approach me, tail wagging slowly and hesitantly. I moved equally slowly towards the fawn, holding out my hand. As we came together, it reached out and touched its nose to my hand. The fawn suddenly froze, as if to wonder how it got so close to a human, then turned and bounced off into the woods.

It's not clear that these incidents were a case of cross-species communication, but they sure were unique examples of finding myself thrilled to have some kind of close encounter with a critter—a kind of encounter in which the animal seemed to choose to approach me on its own.