That title doesn’t just refer to what we are thinking about animals, but what are those animals thinking about us? This window sticker resides on our patio door, just at the bottom, where it can catch folks by surprise. When our daughter came around the corner into the kitchen, it stopped her cold. She thought they were real wildlife actually clamoring to get in. Good for a laugh, for sure!
That was the beginning of my asking, “What are they thinking?” Because animals out there in the great outdoors, or even those curled up on our couches, must be considering how those crazy two-legged critters function.
Take the deer. When I’m out there, crashing my way through the buckthorn and bushes in our woods, I’m sure there are two of them just shaking their heads. Doe #1: “Look at that crazy lady! Doesn’t she know to put her feet down gently so she doesn’t squash those yummy grasses and the tasty maple saplings? Look at the tracks she leaves! Her feet must be at least a size 25.” Doe #2: “I may have four feet, but they’re nothing like those clodhoppers she has to deal with. Why, I could track her like nothing, she leaves such huge footprints.” Doe #1: “To say nothing of all the branches she breaks off as she goes. Shameful. I thought those humans were more careful than that.” What I want to know is how do those 120-pound critters with bodies the width of a tugboat manage to walk–no, gallop–through the woods without leaving much more than a few dainty footprints, if even that much?
Then there are the squirrels. The bane of my father’s life, the squirrels spent much of their time teasing my dad. They’re like kids with video games. “Hey, Petey! Bet you can walk this wire and get over to the birdfeeder. That old guy thinks he can beat us. Fat chance! I’ll bet you two peanuts and a cob of corn that you can’t do it in, say, under 30 seconds.” And off Petey goes, proving yet again that, when it comes to acrobatics and food, they can best my dad every time. I personally think that some circus entrepreneur in the squirrel world has conjured up an entire business to drive humans to distraction with squirrel abilities to balance, fly, creep, crawl, and spin their way through to any kind of feeder. Just look around the next time a squirrel comes to challenge the obstacle course you’ve set up to keep them away from the bird food. Check the trees. There may be an audience of squirrels gathered for the entertainment. They’re paying peanuts to some squirrel ringmaster for the privilege of seeing humans being humiliated yet again.
Anyone that calls a human a birdbrain and thinks it’s an insult, has another think coming. Take woodpeckers. I’m not sure they even have a brain. Who bashes their head against a tree trunk–or against aluminum siding, for Pete’s sake! (I realize that some days, we might wish we could bang out heads against a wall without damage, but don’t try it.) In this case, birdbrain is really an advantage. The smaller brain of a woodpecker allows a quicker return. So, no whiplash, so to speak. As for other birds, the time spent on birdfeeders shows that birds are pretty smart. Why go off foraging in the woods, along ditches, out in the fields, when all you have to do on a wintery day is sit on the picnic table, fluff up your feathers, and look forlorn. Few humans can resist the look of a hungry chickadee. Meanwhile, clustered out in a nearby evergreen tree, the entire flock is practically falling off their branches, laughing at how easy it is to get humans to feed them. Once human babies graduate from crying for their food, parents will say, “No, no snacks now. Dinner is in five minutes.” Thus putting off their own offspring, even while birds flutter around the feeder outside, chuckling over the foibles of the humans indoors.
Don’t even get me started on chipmunks. For some of you, it might translate to similar species, such as groundhogs or moles. Yes, those crafty diggers that seem to think they’re doing you a favor by aerating your lawn. Fill up one hole, and they pop up at the other entrance, dug as a backdoor, just in case. Fill up the backdoor, and, lo and behold, while you’ve been working at that, they’ve cleared out the main entrance. Some folks bury drain tile to carry water away from the house. Take caution there. Chipmunks see that as a readymade condo complex. They can fill it in with debris (they call it nesting material) faster than you can say, “Curse those chipmunks!” They get away with it too…until you realize that water is backing up and cascading over the eaves, or spouting up in miniature fountains because the usual routes are dammed up. All that chattering you hear? Laughter, chipmunk style.
Are there looks of pity out there in the animal world? How can there not be? The horses at the end of the street automatically grow lush winter coats when the weather turns cold. I’m sure they look at us poor, hairless humans and cluck, “What a pity. They have to go out and buy outdoor gear. Even then, all they do is complain about the weather. I feel sorry for them.” Or our dogs. “Look at those poor souls. Working for a living. They need to find someone that will feed them, take them for a walk, and, best of all, encourage them to sleep 15 hours a day.” Well, the first two may be doable, but that last one? Nope. We’re lucky we can get in 7 hours of sleep. Poor puppies, my foot. They’ve got it made!
The next occasion that you cuddle with your pet, or pull out binoculars to check out the birds at the feeder, or catch sight of a coyote traipsing through the yard, take the time to look closely. Are they looking back at you? Ask yourself, “I wonder what they are thinking about me?”