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The Animal Communicator Blog

Living and Communicating with Wild Animals

People have asked me what it’s like to be able to communicate with wild animals in day-to-day living. What do they tell me? Do they understand my thoughts? Am I bombarded with messages? How does communicating with them influence how we live together?

Telepathic communication with wild animals happens in a very natural, organic flow that enhances my interaction with these wonderful beings. Let me give you a few very recent examples.

This June has been my snake encounter month. I love snakes and relish their sensitivity and wisdom. I also have a natural desire to avoid encroaching on venomous snakes’ territory or startling them. Arizona is lizard and snake paradise, and I have enjoyed getting familiar with many different kinds.

A Rattlesnake Pretender
My long-haired Chihuahua, Pepito, and I take daily walks on our land with him on a leash attached to his harness for his safety. I have cleared paths and under shrubs and trees of thick, tall invasive weeds that flourished after last winter’s heavy rains. My intention is to greatly lessen the fire hazard dried brush creates and to have a better view of any wild animals, particularly rattlesnakes.

Pepito was behind me, scouting for rabbits. I got a sudden feeling to stop as I was about to turn a corner on a path that I had not yet cleared of weeds under the shrubs. I took a step and leaned forward on the path to check for any danger. About ten feet away, a three-foot-long snake raised his head, made a loud, long hissing sound, and lunged a few feet toward me. Needless to say, I quickly moved back the way I came.

Pepito had not seen the snake and paid no attention to the loud hissing. As we briskly walked toward the house, he continued attending to the more important matter of being vigilant for rabbits.

A quick look before I retreated told me that this was a gopher snake, whose color pattern resembles rattlesnakes but they do not have the triangular head or rattle on the tail. Here’s what says about gopher snakes behavior: When threatened it often raises its head and neck into a striking posture, hisses loudly, flattens and broadens the head, and vibrates the tail. When exhibiting this behavior it is often mistaken for a rattlesnake.

I had startled the gopher snake while he was hunting. I apologized for alarming him.

I realized that it’s a good idea to broadcast more clearly that I am approaching or not go on trails where I have not yet fully cleared the weeds on each side. I scan the ground even more thoroughly, listen intuitively for any danger, and sing or talk more as I walk. I can carry a walking stick and thump or tap it on the ground in rattlesnake territory, but Pepito doesn’t like that. He doesn’t mind if I carry one, though.

My previous encounters with gopher snakes in the desert had been peaceful, even my first meeting with a shocking seven-footer sliding right in front of my feet. The gopher snakes had moved toward and past me first and so were fully aware of my presence. With one, I even went back to get my camera, took photos with her permission (photo below) and she remained unafraid as we looked directly into each other’s eyes.

gopher snake closeup
The Quail and the Kingsnake
I saw a female quail fluttering her wings and calling loudly around a large nest a wood rat had made under a prickly pear. Her movement reminded me of birds doing a mating dance, but the communication accompanying her call was “Danger, danger!” to her brood that were camped under a bush about fifteen feet away. Then I saw the thick mid-section of a king snake bulge up out of the hole with the quail mother almost on top of it. The king snake was hunting for the resident rat. They are also know to kill and eat rattle snakes.

That incident was like a focus beam for the next day’s adventure.

A Real Rattlesnake!
As I was taking my morning walk with Pepito, I checked on the purple prickly pear cacti that I had planted near the front gate, about 300 feet from my house. I had them encircled with a wire fence to keep rabbits from devouring them. That didn’t stop rodents of various kinds from climbing over the wire to take chunks out of the prickly pear pads. I added deer fence netting over the wire fence, which had successfully kept out rodents for years.

That morning, I noticed one of the cacti had chunks of its flesh missing, so I peered closer to see if the netting or wire needed repair.

I saw and heard the entrapped rattlesnake simultaneously. Some of the net was wrapped tightly around the lower end of her sinuous, almost three-foot-long body and she looked tired from struggling to get free, though she managed to rattle her tail loudly and coil up ready to strike. She had wound her body into the netting while going after the rodent who was munching on the cactus.

My mind went on rapid fire with how I was going to get her free and keep safe from being bitten. I told her I was so sorry that the net caught her and I would be coming back to help her.

As I took Pepito back to the house, I formulated a plan. I felt very moved by the snake’s plight and confident that I could handle it, although I briefly thought I might call the fire department, who will handle rattlesnakes for residents. No, I was responsible for her entrapment and she depended on me. My determination carried me along.

I gathered my rescue tools: a long thick tree branch, the outer wall of a large metal chicken watering fount with a handle on top, scissors, and my gardening gloves.

As I approached again, the rattlesnake coiled and rattled. I told her what I was going to do and if she needed to strike, then here was a branch. I put the branch toward her, and she struck it several times, as I lowered the can over her head and most of her body. I began to cut away the netting near her tail end, and she peered out from under the can.

My body was shaking involuntarily. The can slipped and she struck the branch that I held out for her as a substitute for my body and to keep her at a safe distance. I put the can over her head and most of her body again, getting a better grip on it. I carefully continued cutting the netting away, feeling like people who have helped whales out of fish netting. Her flesh looked temporarily squeezed but not wounded.

I made sure all the pieces of net were unstuck from her body before I slowly pulled the wire away so she could ease out of it, let the can drop off her sideways, and moved back. Her rattling echoed in the can as she hunkered down next to it.

I didn’t wait to see if she would move away. I wanted to give both of us space to recover.

Although I was still shaking right after mission accomplished, I was so happy that she was okay. I was struck by how beautiful she was through the ordeal and by her expressive face peering out from under the can. She understood I was trying to help her but she still was wary of human contact.

I went back to the site later and my snake friend was gone. I did not put new wire fences over the prickly pears. Instead, I wished the cacti protective gardener blessings and asked the rats to spare them from complete destruction. I hoped this would be enough to safeguard them.

Calling Roadrunner
I was musing that I hadn’t seen any roadrunners for a while on my land, though I’d seen them on the road nearby. I missed my wise shaman friend, Rory Roadrunner (photo), who visited often three years ago and slept in a large cactus outside my bedroom window for months until he departed at the end of his life.

roadrunner on bench
The next day I was working in the garden when a roadrunner appeared. His feathers looked well-worn and he was almost as large as Rory. He spent a long time looking at me. Unlike Rory and other roadrunners I have met, he stayed even when I moved or looked directly into his eyes.

As I continued working, he ran a few feet in front of me, pursuing a fast-moving lizard. He stopped mid chase and rested in the shade of a bush nearby. A few minutes after he departed, a very long reddish brown garter snake raced in front of me with the roadrunner on his tail. He pecked at the snake, but then stopped, suddenly losing interest as the snake whooshed away as fast as he could.

Then the roadrunner came near me and began to communicate. He told me he knew Rory, who I had been thinking about, and that he was happy to visit me. I asked him if he would be back, and he said he didn’t know as this wasn’t his territory, but he liked it here. I told him I hoped I would see him again, and off he went.

Snake Guidance
I appreciate the beauty, intelligence, and other wondrous qualities of all animals, and I have a high regard for the ancient wisdom held by snakes and lizards. In the Earth Astrology Medicine Wheel authored by Sun Bear in 1980, my birthday falls under Freeze Up Moon, whose animal guide is Snake, epitomizing continual evolution, transformation, and spiritual union. You can read about the first rattlesnake adventure the cats and I had when we first moved to the desert.

Being able to telepathically communicate with animals brings you closer to them and they often feel safe enough to hang out with you. You can re-claim your telepathic birthright and hone your abilities to live in natural telepathic communion with wild animals and receive their guidance through
this program.

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