Blogger Talks a Different Kind of Love — Thanks to Dogs and Deer

Tuesday was Valentine's Day, a day to celebrate romantic love, which is a very good thing indeed.

But it got me thinking about other kinds of love. Tuesday was the last day of the Westminster Dog Show, and I caught a few minutes on television where mans‘ love of dogs was in abundant evidence, as was dogs‘ love of man. My dog Henry has been sick for the last few days; he's getting older, and his unconditional love for me has been one of the high points of my life for the past twelve years. His being ill reminded me that he will be gone one day soon, and it will leave a big hole in my life.

That got me thinking about the relationship between man and all animals, not just domesticated ones. Can there be love between man and wild animals? There are many ancient tales of friendships between wild beasts and man, such as Androcles and the lion (Androcles removes a thorn from the Lion's paw, and the lion becomes his lifelong friend, saving Androcles from death several years later). There are also modern stories of Dolphins pushing drowning people to shore and other stories.

However the Androcles story is likely apocryphal, and I'm fairly certain that in most cases the wild beasts would rather run away from us, or sting us, or attack us (if threatened). I like to think I'm a pragmatist, not a starry-eyed idealist, and the pragmatic view is that, well, it's a jungle out there.

I was running a few days ago, and had one of those moments that makes you wonder about your life’s assumptions, such as the relationship between man and animals.

I live in a rural area, the far eastern end of Long Island, which is mostly farmer’s fields, vineyards, forests, small towns and ponds surrounded by the ocean on three sides. There are many, many deer and while they have become somewhat habituated to humans, they still have their natural instincts to run away if you get too close. I have lived here for fifteen years, and many times have come across a deer in the road or by the side of the road when I’m out running, and when you get too close, say 25-30 yards away, they always turn and bound into the woods.

I’m used to their behavior (and mine) and I long ago gave up trying to sneak up on them to get a closer look at one of nature’s beautiful creatures. This particular morning, however, I was running on a two-lane country road near my house, and in the distance I saw a fawn grazing by the side of the road. Any other morning I would have kept running, moved to the opposite side of the road so as not to seem as if I was coming right at the deer. He/she would have raised their head to watch me coming, and then turned up their white tail and leapt into the woods.

This morning, however, I decided to try something different. I had been meditating more than my usual routine, preparing my mind and body for a three-day silent Zen retreat I was planning to attend in ten days. I have had discussions in the past with my teacher about how after a particularly intense period of meditation, one is often “giving something off”: people smile at you more, domestic animals like cats and dogs are more attracted to you. So this morning, I stopped running, moved to the other side of the road, kept my gaze down and walked slowly, summoning up the same feelings of love and peace that I often experience while meditating, and visualized sending those thoughts to the deer.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the deer looking directly at me, alert, tail and ears twitching, but it made no move. I kept walking slowly, expecting it to bound away at any moment, but as I came abreast of the deer, no more than 5-10 yards away, it just kept watching me. So I kept walking. After going about 15-20 yards, I could not stand the suspense, so I slowly turned and looked, and there the deer was. It had moved into the middle of the road, and was watching after me as I walked away.

I have learned long ago not to try and anthropomorphize animal’s behavior; while it makes for great children’s literature and Disney movies, I prefer to appreciate animals for their own unique behavior, without trying to ascribe human emotions to them. But I swear this morning there was a connection between myself and the deer as we looked at one another, both of us just as puzzled as the other at why our encounter this morning had been different from all the hundreds of other human/deer encounters we both had experienced.

Can there be feelings of deep love between wild animals and humans? Not romantic love, of course, but something deeper, more powerful? Something that transcends words and species?

I have no answer, I can only say what I saw and felt. I suggest you try it next time you see a deer, a squirrel, a bird, a dog, a cat or any other animal. You never know what you might find.