I spent many years communicating with animals before I realized it was a “thing.” It has always been natural to me. Not that it hasn’t been special—it’s the best! But it’s always seemed like something anyone could do—and they can! It’s largely a matter of being quiet, opening your heart, and tuning in to your animal. And, of course, you must believe that it’s possible to hear them.
I love my quiet life and I’m deeply honored to receive the thoughts and feelings of the animals that come into it. I have a long list of animals who have led me to this work by participating in a relationship built on love, connection and trust, the natural consequence of which is meaningful communication. I am grateful to every one of them!
Every so often, something comes through unexpectedly from an animal that I haven’t established a conversation with. Here are a few stories of animals who completely surprised me with their communication. They illustrate how tuned in to us animals are. All we need to do is notice!
Juneau
Juneau and his companion Star lived next door to me. When his human mom became too busy with travel to give her horses the exercise and attention she wanted them to have, she asked me to ride them. It was perfect timing for me, as my mares were reaching retirement age, so I said “Yes!”
My mission with Juneau was to help him learn how to go in balance when carrying a rider. In addition to moving stiffly, he didn’t know how to collect his body and use his “engine” (the hindquarters). After getting to know him for a few weeks, I decided we could start working on these things in the round pen. I was hoping to show him that he could pick up the correct lead and bend his body in a gentle, correct arc.
We got to work on the circle, and he was getting his downward transitions from the seat and responding beautifully to the leg. I felt that he was balanced enough that I might be able to get a decent canter depart, so I asked for it.
He picked up the wrong lead, so I immediately brought him back to trot. Not wanting to frustrate him, I thought, “We will be able to do this soon enough. I’ll just finish the ride calmly, end with him feeling confident and let him enjoy the successes of the day.” But before I could take the steps to conclude the ride, I distinctly heard him say “I can do this!!” I was stunned!
It was so clear that he wanted to show me what he could do, I didn’t hesitate to go for it —and we did it! This quiet, stoic horse’s desire to excel and willingness to communicate made a permanent impression on my heart.
Grayson
I fell head over heels in love with Grayson at first sight. He was the strongest, most muscular cat I’d ever seen, with a shiny grey coat and stark white markings. Like all ferals, he was untrusting at first, but it wasn’t long before he let me stroke his back as much as I liked. He settled in and brought home a couple of lovely girlfriends. Before we knew it, we had a big, beautiful feral feline family.
It was really fun to have all those cats, but it was a big job to get them all to the vet for spaying, neutering, and vaccinations. Cairo and Caqui made their trip to the vet willingly enough, as did their babies when they reached the appropriate age. But Grayson was not having it. He absolutely was not going to the vet—and as much as I wanted to respect his autonomy, I also wanted to protect my precious man from the dangers of wandering and fighting. I thought about it a lot.
One day, Grayson failed to show up for breakfast, lunch or dinner. I was heartbroken—and worried. That day turned into another, and another, until 10 days had passed. On the morning of the eleventh day, I was so distraught, I laid on my bed, eyes closed, and spoke to him from my heart. I told him I loved him and I just wanted to know he was okay. I promised him that if he came home, I wouldn’t bring up the subject of the vet again and he could live his life exactly as he chose. I then got up from the bed, went downstairs, opened the back door and, through the tears in my eyes, watched him trot toward me and into my arms.
I kept my promise to Grayson, but he did go to the vet a year later, on his own terms. He told me he was ready—I didn’t bring it up—and all went well.
The Hummingbird
One afternoon when I was working on my house, I heard a tapping on the living room window. As I approached the window, I saw that a hummingbird had flown inside through the open front door and was beating against it frantically. I needed to get him outside as quickly and calmly as possible, but a plan eluded me. The front door was the only logical exit, as the windows were tightly closed. But that door was over fifteen feet away from the anxious hummingbird and guiding him out of it seemed unlikely, if not impossible.
I couldn’t imagine his feeling safe enough to let me take him in my hands, so I held out the tape measure I was carrying and said, “Get on this and I will carry you safely outside.” Without hesitation, the beautiful little bird hopped onto the tape measure and sat quietly until we reached the front door and he was able to fly to freedom.
Keeper
Although Keeper was my horse, he stayed at a friend’s house, where I rode him regularly. In addition to riding in the arena, we enjoyed trail riding at a nearby lake with my friend and Keeper’s horse buddy, Willy. Keeper was always a willing and curious trail partner, but at one point he began balking at getting into the trailer that we depended on to get to our favorite trails.
No matter how much I tried, my logical mind could not solve the mystery of his hesitation. Then one day as I was riding him in the arena, I clearly thought (emotion included), “Oh, good – the next time I come to ride we’ll go to the lake!” As soon as the thought was complete, I received a picture in my head of him tripping and briefly going down on his knees on the trail a few weeks earlier. I had forgotten the incident almost immediately, because he got right up and showed no soreness or marks on his body. But he clearly did not like it, and he used that one picture to tell me why he did not want to go into a trailer!
