Flo will be introducing our speaker on Tuesday – Meredith Michael is a professor of Anthropology at Smith College. I don't have the title of her talk, but I do know that she is a very interesting person with many interests so I anticipate a lively meeting. One of her claims to fame is that she and her labs are neighbors of Chestnut's little brother Hickory, and you all know how important dogs are in my life!
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| Chestnut, Hickory and Sequoia (renamed Fiali) |
(For newer members who have not yet visited Roger and I at home, Chestnut is our large and furry dog, who we adopted from the Pioneer Valley Dakin eight years ago).
Speaking of animals, I was talking to a friend yesterday about chickens. He has a small flock in his back yard that spend their days pecking happily in their roomy caged area. Occasionally, if he is working in the yard, he lets them out so that they can range freely, pecking away to their little avian hearts' content.
Often, his one year old daughter plays amongst them, whether wandering throughout their rural yard or confined within the safe perimeter of their fenced area. Having spent many hours watching carefully to ensure her safety, he has made some interesting observations about their interaction.
The little one will be perfectly content to let a whole hour elapse while she wanders amongst the hens, lost in her own little world as she babbles away, engrossed in some adventure with them that we shall never discover. The hens not only accept her presence but seem to have assimilated her into their flock and pecking order, placing her at the head of the line.
My friend, on the other hand, is seen as merely the bringer of food, an outsider whose approach signifies nothing more than their regular free meal ticket.
Stories abound of instances where animals and children share a special relationship that is somehow exclusive of adults. Interestingly, this seems to be exhibited by the males as well as the females of the species. My mother used to tell of the large Airedale dog that shared her childhood home.
When she was very small, he would happily tolerate all manner of childish attention, whether it be being ridden like a horse or dressed in dolls' clothing. However, there were also times when he would show a very different face. If my grandmother needed to admonish my mother (those being the days of strict discipline when 'spare the rod and spoil the child' was the maxim of the day), the dog would first have to be shut outside or he would defend his young charge from all assaults on her person. Clearly in this case, too, the child enjoyed a different relationship from the adult and bringer of food, even though the adult was also the leader of the pack.
I wonder what it is that leads animals to have a special regard for children. Is it their innocence, but what does that mean? Do young children have a gift for accepting things the way they are and adapting to the world as it is presented to them. Is it only as we grow and realize our own potential power that we sense that we can change the status quo and therefore present a challenge that has to be met? I am not trying to say that one is bad and the other good. Nothing in life is ever that simple. But I do sometimes think that emulating a child's ability to live in the moment, with no thought for the past or future, is a gift that we should occasionally give ourselves.
What is your personal treat? Sipping a cup of tea while listening to the spring peepers?
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| Bluebell wood, Castramon, Scotland, 2007 |
Walking through a bluebell wood with the perfume making one's senses reel?
Counting the crocus flowers nodding in the sunshine? Relaxing with closed eyes and reliving a beautiful memory? Listening to a special piece of music? Or watching a small child interact with the chickens, blissfully unaware of both the joys and the challenges that are just around the corner waiting for her to grow into them.
