noticing nature’s voices
Each creature has a unique purpose and way of communicating. Almost all connections in life are built on a foundation of trust, and our relationship with wildlife is no different. Engaging with nature reveals the countless ways communication can occur. Training in wildlife rehabilitation can deepen your empathy and admiration for creatures you may not have thought to share characteristics with.
This doesn’t mean we should project our complex emotions onto animals, but rather, learn to communicate as wildlife does; through simplicity and purity. Instead of fostering dependency, we should strive for a balanced relationship, one grounded in intention, observation, admiration, and, only when absolutely necessary, intervention.
A Generational Friendship
A family legacy can be many things, rituals, and traditions. In our family, it’s to get to know every chipmunk by name.
In the middle of what feels like nowhere, Ontario, stands a tiny cabin situated on the banks of a small lake. The original homestead of our family who settled from Finland. Rich in its culture and respect to the indigenous people and wilderness that surrounds the area. Some people and many animals call it home. A red fox who only comes around every couple of decades. What a gift when she stops to say hello. Pickerel that jump as the sun begins to settle. A black bear, if your not careful with your scraps, may come to investigate the smells. A Seagull named Percy who would sit on the roof and eat pieces of fish tossed its way. (Only if he didn’t poop on the roof, which he didn’t) But the ones who we’ve gotten to know the most, our chipmunks. As a kid I remember the first time I was ever told of the family of chipmunks, that will greet us on the porch as we begin to arrive. Watch your step! You never know who may be scurrying by.
My great great grandparents began this unfamiliar friendship as most humans do when they bond with an animal, with food. With a handful of peanuts and excitement dancing in my heart, I sat and waited. As the chipmunks began to draw near, I stay still and quiet for the first one to crawl on to my lap and take a peanut from my hand. Almost at disbelief that this tiny little creature could fit a peanut, that was (what felt like) half his size, in it’s mouth. He shoved one, two, sometimes three or four into his ever stretching cheeks and dashed off the porch, down the steps, disappearing into the woods. Slowly I began to learn the names.
Some stood out more than others and created a memorable relationship. We still tell the stories of Shorty Martin (he had a stumpy tail), LT (he had an extra long tail), Tiny (you can guess why), and Chippy 1,2,3… who knows what we’re on now. The one that still makes us laugh when we tell the story, Frank. Frank was named after my Iso Isa (Great Grandpa, picture two) because my Iso Isa lost his leg in a mill accident and little Frank had one of his front legs missing. But that never shortened little Frank’s personality. Each family member with their own names and stories from the summers they spent at our special place.
Above is now my daughter, 100+ years later, on the same ground that was settled for us. With the same excitement that we have all felt and shared for the tiny brown face waiting in the window, hoping someone notices. Racing out the door, sitting quietly and still to feel the scratchy little feet crawl up her leg to grab a handful of peanuts.
As one line in my Iso Aiti’s (great grandmother’s) obituary reads “she knew each chipmunk by name”. From the first generation to the last, we continue to walk in the footsteps before us.
