I balance the hay in one arm, reach over the gate and unlatch it. I walk though the gate, closing it behind me and am surrounded by sheep and donkeys. Asher grabs a mouthful of hay, gets a little too close to my hand and in a quiet voice I tell him, don’t bite the hand that feeds you.
He never does.
Merricat, Lori, Constance, Kim and Robin are already way ahead of me walking calmly to the feeders. Issachar, big enough to knock me down, walks gently next to me. Fanny and Lulu trail behind, walking even slower.
None of the the animals are worried about not getting enough to eat. I know because they don’t rush me to get at the hay, they wait at the feeders anticipating it. They’re patient, even polite.
When I dump the first leaf of hay in the feeder the sheep are already lined up on either side. And when the donkeys come and push them away with nudging them with their noses, they simply go to the other feeder.
When I get there, they make room for me to lean over and tease the hay apart so it’s easier for them to eat.
Then I go back to the donkey’s hay and do the same for them.
Fate crouches waiting. I tell her to get the sheep and she’s off. Zinnia grazes on sheep pellets and I crouch at the feeder between Asher and Merricat. They barely notice as if I belong there, as if I’m one of them.
And that makes me feel as if I do belong.
I lower my head, slow my breathing and make my eyes soft. I see Asher’s golden brown eye out of the corner of my eye. Hay sticking out of his mouth moving up and down as he chews, tickles my cheek. It’s the most satisfying sound, the continuous grinding crunch.
On the other side of me, in between bites, Merricat reaches her nose out to mine. No sound passes between us, but when Merricat turns back the hay, I know she was saying hello the way animals do, by smelling each other.
I also know that she trusts me as much as I trust her.
Being with the animals in this way, makes me slow down. It calms me down, it plunges me into the moment.
I don’t know if I picked that up from them, if that’s how it started. I do know that if I’m calm and patient and confident with the animals, then they are gentle with me. And they mostly do as I ask.
And if I’m not, if I’m angry and I bring it to the animals, they become agitated too. And, for those moments, the harmony and trust that’s we’ve cultivated, evaporates.
But it happens rarely enough that when I come back calm again, I am soon forgiven.
Also, I apologize, with words, by scratching the donkeys under the chin, handing out pieces of carrot or apple, or just sitting quietly among them.
How do I know to apologize? Because it’s what I would want if someone got angry at me for no good reason. Which happened often in the house I grew up in.
Of course you don’t have to be living with sheep and donkeys to find these moments of peace. But for me, it was seeing how the animals reacted to my different moods that allowed me to become aware of how much it effected our relationship.
So much easier to with with animals than with humans.
Ever since I was a kid I wanted to have the kind of relationship with animals that I have now. Not only with the sheep and donkeys, but with all of our animals. One of trust where our communication is often intuitive and goes beyond words.
Jons says I was always natural around the animals. That big animals donkeys or herds of sheep could easily be dangerous even if it’s not intentional. But I feel like it was something I had to learn.
That it came to me not by reading a book or taking a class, but through experience. By paying attention, listening, seeing and trusting my feelings. It’s something the animals taught me, though my being with them every day.
Now when I go out to feed the animals it’s like walking into a sacred space. Not that it’s perfect and nothing ever goes wrong. But to keep the relationship that we now have, I have to be my most patient and secure self.
And what a gift that is.
