Large Fierce Mammal

Spirit Messengers. The term conjures images of animals sent by a higher power to offer guidance toward the right Path. A Google search will turn up reams of pages identifying the characteristics of each creature, along with its “meaning” should it choose to make itself seen to you under a variety of circumstances.

As with publications that purport to assist you in the interpretation of dreams, I personally hold that this “if A then B” approach at once trivializes and over complicates something my experience has shown to be both subtle and powerful, as is Nature Herself.

To clarify, let me relate some encounters of my own. The first I wrote about back in the Spring of 2009, and published here under the title Moments of Magick (read it by clicking the title). The last line in that piece defines my point:

“… For this to be experienced I needed to be exactly where and when I was. So simple and yet so profound.” ~ Moments of Magick

In the Spring of 2011, two years after I wrote of my encounter with the Damselflies, came my article, Blessed by Birch and Eagle , that contained familiar echoes, and evidence that Spirit Messengers need not be animals at all.

Moving forward to December 2013, I went out one morning and was clearing frost from my car preparing to go on an errand when I looked up, as I am prone to do; this time toward the wooded hillside our driveway backs onto. There, set like a grand jewel against the snow, was a splendid male Ring Necked Pheasant. We both stood and regarded each other for some moments before he moved forward into a stand of Autumn tanned grass and out of my sight, and I returned to the task at hand.

What was notable about this encounter is that in the seven years up to that point of living where we do, I had never seen nor heard a Pheasant. Where we had lived previously, we were overrun with them, and so I am amply familiar with their habits and calls. Most important, since that December morning, I have laid neither eyes nor ears on another.

Now on that very same morning, I finished with my automotive ablutions and drove along the LaHave River to a place called Cookville where there lies a bridge. There was no traffic but me, and it was as I was approaching said bridge that I espied a huge and majestic Bald Eagle completing a turn over the river to my left. The Eagle came out of his turn and descended rapidly toward the bridge where I had slowed to a crawl as I watched him approach. In one of those instants that seem frozen in time, he passing in front of me just above eye level, his head turned toward me, looking straight into my eyes. He left me in no doubt that I was his point of interest, then trading the speed bestowed by his rapid descent for altitude, he abruptly pulled up and heeled sharply to his left, still looking at me, before turning his attention back up river and flying with powerful strokes back the way he had come from.

Two weeks ago, it was early morning just after coffee with Mrs. LFM who was now engaged with feeding SFM Viktor. I was sitting in our office on the second floor of our house, trusty Dog Milo curled up under my desk around my still bare feet, as I went through my customary work day email and schedule review. Over the period of several minutes, I became progressively more aware of a series of chirps emitted by a small Bird that carried a sense of odd proximity.

Our office window looks out into the boughs of one of eight mature Maple Trees that stand sentinel on two sides of the house, so that in full foliage one gets the impression of being in a tree house. The screen in the window was in need of replacement, but time and opportunity to do that chore had been overtaken by a warming trend in the weather, so on the day in question, the window was open, barred only by a stout grill we have in place to prevent boisterous Dogs from launching themselves into oblivion.

When one lives with Dogs, one tends to rely on their sharp senses to warn of unorthodox trends before they reach Human detection levels, and I remember a moment in which I became simultaneously suspicious of the loudness of these repeated bird calls, and found it odd that Milo seemed totally relaxed and uncaring. I swiveled around in my chair to see a Black Capped Chickadee perched on a cross member in the window grill, looking and chirping at me. It took a few seconds before I registered that it was inside the room, and when I did, my first instinct was to move toward the office door so that the Bird wouldn’t go further. As I stood, Milo looked at me, then at the direction of my gaze. With a woof, he leapt toward the window, but with a move defying the greatest aerial acrobat, the Chickadee swung upside down under its perch, launched itself out the window, and flew out of sight. I replaced the screen later that same day, all the while marveling at the length of time the Chickadee had spent there, calling out to me.

This brings me to my final example, this one from just last week. I was visiting a client who shares my interest in swords and Swordsmanship, and after my professional duties had been discharged, we spent quite a while in a show and tell session that included an item I had brought with me that was much to his liking. Finally taking my leave, I drove the length of his private road back toward the highway. There is an S bend in his road that empties onto a straightaway, and as I came out of that turn I saw an animal coming toward me, directly down the center of the road. It was obviously canine, had a black face and pricked ears, and was about the height of a medium sized Dog. As we approached each other, I slowed and eventually came to a stop. The animal drew closer, and I soon realized it was an unusually large Fox. A Silver Fox to be exact, and when he drew to within about 20 feet of the front of my car, he turned toward the swamp at my right, paused to look directly at me for a few seconds, and then stalked out of sight. I have met hundreds of Foxes in my day, all of the red variety and none larger than a good sized house Cat, but this was a first for me, and his magnificent size left me gob smacked.

The common thread in each of these events is the same as with the Damselflies I spoke of at the beginning – “For this to be experienced I needed to be exactly where and when I was. So simple and yet so profound.”

So what does it all mean? For me, every time I am gifted with such a moment, I feel honoured in a way that can only come from sharing it in time with a fellow creature of Nature, and the thrill I speak of can only come from an unscripted and decidedly un-coincidental encounter demanding that its participants converge under circumstances most will find impossible to believe. Impossible because it never seems to happen to them. Indeed, these events are of a kind that would never have happened if you even paused to hike up your pants, check your email, or if I had spent even an extra minute talking to my client.

I believe they happen to me because I’ve spent all of my life up to now learning to be the best animal – the best creature of Nature – I can be. My quest is far from finished, and I have no intention of stopping. I hold the World of Nature above the artificially built “reality” of human society, and in so doing, my relationship with my fellow Humans is enhanced. Every day I find it easier to see and savour what is best in Life so that the progress and outcome of each day tempers and makes tolerable the inevitable sour moments that, measured against a Life of Mindfulness, are only that – moments.

Today’s lesson then is that Nature is the Mother of all of us, and we must recognize that Her Teachers will come from the ranks of all Her children, no matter what kind. I recognize a message connecting all these events that I have related today, and that message is this: Stay Mindful. Be attuned. Follow the Way of the Wild.