Animals Say the Darnest Things
Animals, particularly dogs have been studying humans for centuries. Since dogs proved they were better companions than meals they have heeled mankind across the globe, often herding game for them and cleaning up the scraps around camp that would otherwise lure bears or other unwanted pests. Humans learned to understand that animals warned of danger or an unwanted intruder if they watched them.
Animals communicate with their litter mates, other animals and us, by voice and sign language. They also watch the eyes of another to make decisions on intent and mood. They understand when we are upset, angry or loving simply by watching. I once had a kitten that was watching me, so I began staring at her intently when our eyes locked. Eventually her eyes darkened as her pupils expanded and she came at me as if I were an enemy. I learned fast, they take it as a threat.
Our two-year-old border collie, Edgar came to me the other night to tell me he wanted out. I thought it was odd for he had just been out for over an hour. I followed him toward the door and he suddenly stopped by a low table where a plant was laying on its side, water pooling beside it. He looked at it, then at me and then the cat who was hiding underneath the table. He wanted me to know that it happened before he implicated the cat. I thanked him for letting me know even though I was pretty certain he had chased the cat up there in the first place.
Unlike dogs, who wear their emotion, cats are nuanced in their communication. They don’t lick you or bark when they want something, they have other ways. One of the house cats we have is terrible about cruising the counter if we aren’t looking and has gotten thrown out many times for being there. After a while she learned if she would hit the kitchen floor with a thud, it would bring me running and she would trot to the door. The truth was, the cat wanted out and the surest way to get my attention and get outside was to be caught jumping off the counter. Simple.
My friend and I were standing by the sting ray tank at Monterey Bay Aquarium one afternoon and a few rays came sidling up to me on the edge of the tank. They began to frantically flap their bodies around against the side. My friend asked the attendant about them, but she did not know and thought maybe it was close to feeding time. This mountain girl began to look for the exits, because all I could think was we were about to have an earthquake and they were trying to get away!
When I was a little girl there was an earthquake that we felt in Almont. I was with my aunt at the time, and she swooped me up and ran outside. By the time we got far away from the buildings it was over and there wasn’t a sound. No birds, no wind, not a breath. I am betting they had all gone silent before the quake, but we were inside and did not notice.
My brilliant dog Badge was laying with the horses some distance away while my Forest Service partner and I were sawing a huge log that had fallen across the trail. Badge came to me and would not leave me alone. I finally got up and she led the way back to where the horses were tied and there my big gelding was untied and rolling on my saddle. Similarly, Edgar dog was driving me nuts one evening as I wrote my column for the Crested Butte News. I eventually got up to escort him to the door, but instead of going toward the door, he took a hard left and went right to my husband’s chair. My eyes panned to the right where the other dog and the two cats were in the kitchen trash. He felt it his duty to tell on them, while showing me he wasn’t involved in such bad behavior.
I saw a male coyote once trying to gift a windblown garbage bag to his partner. He had it in his teeth flinging it at her, but unimpressed she trotted across the slope in search of an unaware mouse, leaving him standing with the bag hanging out of his mouth. He was dejected, so he dropped the bag, peed on it and trotted after her.
If they know you are watching, your animals will tell you a lot and consistently. They have lived for millions of years in concert with each other and humans, playing a symphony we have unintentionally lost the music for.