Animal Communication

Today I had lunch with my friend, April, and as usual our conversation covered a multitude of topics over the course of a couple of hours. One of them was about animal communicators and animal communication, and horses. We talked about just how sensitive horses are, and how intuitive they are.  They know what's on your mind before you get down off the porch.  I was telling her just how trippy Alibi is and how I can ask him to do something and he does it.  I mean, verbally ask, not through body language related to conditioning.

When I got back home, I went out to enjoy my animals and noticed Hy Note's eye area and right side of his face looked discolored.  They roll in the dirt and sometimes he's just dusty, but this was different.  I moved his thick forelock out of the way and saw a little blood in his tear duct and then upon a complete body check, I noticed his cannon had blood from where he must have been rubbing his eye.  Looking again, I saw a very small cut on the lower eyelid.  Another half a millimeter and it would have been his eyeball--it was that close.

Naturally, I asked Hy Note what the heck he did.  What poked him in the eye? For a while it was just late afternoon horse scratching and loving time, so end of discussion there.  I realized it wasn't serious; I would get a warm cloth and wipe his eye and wash his face and soothe him a bit.

When I came out with the feed cart a little later, instead of standing over the bucket he has declared to be his, Hy Note walked away and over to one of the feed bags hanging on the fence.  It hadn't yet been filled, so this was significant.  He stood directly in front of the bag and then looked over at me to be sure I was paying attention.  I acknowledged that I saw him and that I would come look, so he left the empty bag and came to meet me at the feed cart and resumed his usual routine.

When I went over to the feed bag with the suspicion that whatever cut his eye was there, sure enough I found a long strand of chicken wire that had snapped off the netting and was sticking straight out right beside the feed bag.  Knowing how the horses eat from the bags, I was certain this was the culprit.

I have a gal coming for a few hours each week to help me with chores and we started moving the chicken wire that runs along the bottom of the field fencing to the outside of the fence.  The goats put their horns in it and pull, Faramir puts his hoof in it and pulls, it does no good on the inside of the fence and just gives me a constant maintenance project. Yesterday, we got as far as the section just before the feed bags.

One thing you learn when you have horses: if there is anything at all that can remotely possibly cut, hurt, or trip a horse, they will find it.

The other thing you learn is: if you pay attention and listen, a horse will tell you everything you need to know.

Adaptation

Survival of the fittest depends on adaptability, wouldn't you say?  To adapt is to be flexible, to adjust, to let go of rigidity in order to make the best of evolving situations.  If nothing in the natural world stays the same, why do we resist change so much?

On a recent morning, at 4am, I was again awoken by howling coyote.  They come through the pasture across the road from me.  The routine is, I get up, open the window and make "ssssst" noises and shine my mag light around and lately I've been turning on the overhead light in my yoga room; they do not like the light and it sends them scooting.  Then it dawned on me, just before dawn, that I shall leave my yoga room light on all night.  It's not the ideal energy conservationist's solution, but because it's so dark here, the light floods out just past my front gates, and I have a better chance of a well deserved night of uninterrupted sleep.

I can't stop the coyote from doing what they do, but I can lend them a deterrent before they get thinking about howling outside my windows!  With this crafty thought of adaptation for a change in the dynamic in mind, I drifted back off.

We don't realize how much we can adapt.  I guess it's a matter of choice.  Fight like mad to keep your position, usually based on pride and stubbornness, or open up and find another way.

Watching my animals, I see how often and how willingly they adapt.  They trust that if I am asking them to do something different, it's going to work out.  It doesn't take much to set a new routine, just a little communication, confidence and a satisfactory experience.  Their instinct guides them and they don't second guess that.  We can learn something here.

One of the key words on a card I drew the morning of my coyote fix was "adaptation."  It said to make lemonade of lemons, which presumably one would do before the lemons spoil.  So, things do not have to get unbearable before we make a change.  Change is part of life.  It's seasonal.  It's daily.  In fact, it's by the second, isn't it?  If we trust our instinct, our gut, our intuition, any of those you want to use, if we trust ourselves, we can't go wrong.

I did adapt.  I let go of something that had been bugging me for some time now and while it's yet to be seen how it will evolve, I feel like I shed a layer and have a new perspective.  Isn't that the point of adapting?