One of the younger turkeys likes to eat the oats I give them straight out of the cup, as I hold it for her. The others aren't as brave –she's the Jonathan Livingston of the group! If the door is open and she can see me, she'll scratch the verandah and stare at it, then look at me, as if to say, "There's nothing there!" Sometimes, though, she just likes me talking to her, and she'll make little clacking noises back, peering sideways at me out of one eye, head slightly cocked.
I've had my entire front garden rearranged, and had to move some pots to the back verandah (which is blocked by a gate), so they couldn't dig out the soil. I even put rocks on top of one pot, and the turkey who likes to roll pots around threw all of the rocks out –just because I wouldn't come out and feed her –the more noise the better! As soon as I came out, she stood beside her work, looking very pleased with herself. And I thought these birds were dumb... But that's the trouble with humans –we see ourselves as so much more intelligent and advanced than all of the other creatures who inhabit the earth. And then we wake up from that dream, and realise that we're really not!
Even the humble cockroach is capable of understanding us, yet how many of us can understand them? I was watching television one night, when a large brown cockroach scurried across the floor in front of me. It was about the same colour as the floorboards, so the movement gave me a fright, and I gasped. The cockroach ran, so I apologised for giving it a fright, and said hello. It stopped, turned around and came to stand in front of me, antennae twitching, like an enchanted creature in an animated film, and listened as I spoke to it. Later that night, I met it again in the bathroom, and it stood by the basin and watched as I cleaned my teeth and washed my face. We had a little chat about the role of a Bodhisattva, and it just knew I wasn't going to harm it.
A couple of nights later, I found it on its back in the kitchen, and thought it was dead. I picked the poor little thing up in a paper towel, and it came out of its coma (probably had too much to eat, as I hadn't done the washing up!) and held onto my finger with its front foot. I put a drop of water on my fingernail and offered it, and the cockroach held onto my finger and drank the water from my nail. I gave it a few more drinks, then took it back into the bathroom, scrunched up the paper towel, and gently popped the cockroach on top. When I went back into the bathroom later that night, it was lying on its side, snuggled into the paper towel, with the most happy expression throughout its whole being. Before that, I didn't know that cockroaches had emotions, but, in that moment, I realised the significance of working towards Enlightenment in order to raise the consciousness of all sentient beings –and that that included cockroaches!
Several years ago, when my dogs were still alive, I had a similar experience with a cricket. It was lying on the floor, and I picked it up to throw it into the garden, but realised it was just dehydrated. I put some water in a little plastic spoon, and offered it to the cricket. It sat on the end of my thumb, drinking from the spoon. I almost swooned, my heart was so filled with love!!! I put some sand and leaf litter in a shallow dish and put in one spoon with crushed dog biscuits and another with water. I popped the cricket into its new home, and, later, saw it was eating the biscuit crumbs. So happy!
Within a couple of days, there were about seven crickets in the house, eating and drinking, and singing up a storm. I could hardly sleep for the high-pitched singing all night long, but I was so happy. Lily and Winnie were as curious as I, and didn't seem to mind the singing either. Eventually, the crickets all went on their way, and we had the house to ourselves, until the geckos moved in. But that's another story...
Love and Light
xxx
Love and Light
xxx
