When the Whales Stopped Talking

I read an article on whale communication in this month’s Smithsonian magazine and it links in my mind with yesterday’s trip with the grandson and some buddies to the local Safari Park.

The Safari Park is a fun way to spend a day and get to know some animals up close and personal, as they nudge their noses further and further into your car to get at the containers of feed, giving little ones the chance to pet a llama and check out goats and sundry other critters.

But the other part of the park – the zoo part – the part where animals are kept penned, gives me pause.

I have never liked zoos much.  The ethos of the Safari Park, where we are the ones contained and the animals run (somewhat more) free seems the right mix of interaction, as opposed to the formerly free-ranging animals now penned in for my amusement and edification.

I don’t know enough zoology to have an informed opinion.  Perhaps it’s just fine for animals to live in such confinement.

But the Smithsonian’s piece on Noc, who spoke human words as an adolescent and then, inexplicably stopped, is filled with pathos.  The experts speculate that he stopped simply because he was no longer an adolescent.  But maybe he stopped because all his efforts to convey something important had come to naught.  Maybe he simply ran out of the energy necessary to communicate with those who would not respond to his pleas.

Of course I anthropomorphize.  But when it comes to how we humans treat our fellow creatures, maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

Who is Blessed in the Blessing?

Today in the splendid fall shining, 18 people . . . 3 cats . . . and 19 dogs (and leashes) . . . one french horn . . . one banjo . . . and lots of blessings, gathered for a parade (for you religious folk, that’s a procession) to the grounds of the church I serve where we then had our annual blessing of the animals service.

This year’s service was the least formal (and hence my favorite) of all we’ve had so far.  The dogs barked their greetings at each new arrival . . . folks got up and moved about with their animals . . . people commented on the readings . . . and a wee boy of 3 named Braiden walked alongside me to offer the blessings, Braiden offering his own special blessing, “Jesus loves you, Amen”.

The best bit was the first time, when after the blessing, Braiden told the doggie it was now time to go to bed – after all, when Braiden says his prayers, bed time follows, so it follows that it was now the doggie’s bed time too.

Then there was the moment when all the dogs stood up in the middle of the service and began to bark their greetings over the fence at Rhet, who came during a break from work to be a part of it all.

Blessed to be a blessing, so God promised to Abraham, so it is for us too.

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Shout out to the Highland Sheriff’s deputies David Neil, Gary Hull and Ronnie Wimer and Sheriff Duff for making our parade possible . . . to G. W. Obaugh for loaning us the use of his parking lot as our jump off point . . . to Will Crisp for making sure we had ads in the paper and helping out in so many ways . . . to Samantha Blagg for her french horn playing (beautiful, fabulous) . . . to Jeanne Lou and Dot and all the others who work tirelessly (and tiredly) to make sure all pets are loved and find good homes . . . and to dear departed friend Ann Swain, whose teddy bear legacy to me bore witness that she is missed and stood in for all the animals who couldn’t make it today but needed their own blessing. . . and to God most of all, for all the blessings -- thank you.