As our farm grows and we get to know our animals better, it becomes clearer to me all the time that animals communicate in ways we don’t. I have worked with special needs children and animals many times in my lifetime and am drawn to the way they speak with one another. While watching an autistic child with a horse the other day, it was this story I heard from the horse. I hope, someday, our farm will become a safe place for such children to fall in love with a llama, an alpaca, a horse or a chicken. Here is the horse’s story:
Slowly I make my way around the stall waiting on my newest friend to come by to brush me. I love to have my long mane braided and to smell the soft scent of my quietest friend. Over the years, I’ve learned that some humans can be really loud – often causing me to get overwhelmed or startled – but today, my favorite human is coming. This young, dark-haired human speaks to my mind with his pictures. He doesn’t use much language and he often “speaks” in pictures I can see. He is very quiet with his mouth, but his mind is captivating. His brain is full of color, light, and sound, but he is frustrated as no one here can seem to understand him. Other humans – particularly the older ones – are too busy looking at things the way they have always seen them – in pictures, movies, and words. My friends and I, we communicate in love.
Today, my favorite of these children will come with his mom in a shiny vehicle that hums. He will not make any eye contact with me, but he will reach out a hand to stroke me and he will send me waves of peace. If I sense that it is hard for this small human to move quickly – no worries – I have been given the gift of great patience. After all, I don’t have any time schedule. As a matter of fact, I don’t know why humans are so caught up in this thing they call a clock – what is the point of rushing through life? Once the child’s fingers find my soft fur, peace enters my body. We both exude calm, our heartbeats sync and time stops. We live in the moment, and in this moment all that matters is the connection that has formed between us. I see his head slowly lift as he attempts to make eye contact; something very foreign and uncomfortable to this human who speaks without words. Soon, he meets my gaze. Our eyes lock and he begins to send me mental pictures. I see him in school feeling left out and alone because no one understands him. I see him at home seething with frustration because no one knows what it is he is trying to communicate, and I feel his pain. I, too, have been communicating with humans for centuries and they never seem to “hear” me. I am excited that this small human and I have met. I believe we will grow to have our own language, and that he will function better in the human world after learning to talk to me.
We will start talking by drawing each other out. It will begin with trust –as all good relationships do – and will continue as we do more scary things together. For today, I will stand stock still while he brushes my flank. I will perhaps snort and maybe nicker in gratitude for his gentle touch. He, in turn, will be astounded at my ability to accept him for exactly who and where he is. He will feel the warmth as it courses through his blood and know that it is my understanding of him that is making his heart sing. He will know that one day he will be able to tell me all of his troubles and feelings, and I will never tell another soul. His secrets will always be safe with me.