The Spiritual Nature of Animals. Karlene Stange
Читать онлайн книгу.
always advises us to “just make good qi.” Dr. Xie came to Durango to treat patients with me on his next trip to the IVAS herbology course where we met. Then, in October 2000, he invited me and my husband to travel to China with him and a group of other veterinarians for an advanced TCVM course. He asked me to share a lecture at the conference about the wild horse foot, and how horses in the wild keep their hooves trimmed naturally and stay sound, in comparison to the domestic, shod horses that have so many hoof problems and foot pain. From there I finished my Chinese herbology training with Dr. Xie, at his school, the Chi Institute, and I also learned tui na manual therapy and food therapy.
I felt much better adding TCVM to my practice. About 85 percent of my patients enjoy acupuncture treatments; dogs like it because they get “cookies” (as treats) and “opium” (or the opiates that are naturally released by the acupuncture) — everybody likes cookies and opium. The body’s pharmacy releases over 360 different chemicals, such as endorphin, encephalon, serotonin, bradykinin, antihistamine, corticosteroids, and so on, that relieve pain and calm anxiety. Acupuncture feels more nurturing to me, and the Chinese herbal formulas have helped many animals when drugs have not. I feel blessed to have studied with Dr. Xie, who taught me so much that improved my life and the lives of animals.
I am also blessed by the friendships I have at a local veterinary clinic, Animas Animal Hospital. From 1985 to 1988, I worked at this small-animal veterinary hospital in downtown Durango as a new graduate from veterinary school. One of my favorite things about Animas Animal Hospital is all the wildlife brought there for treatment. The doctors there work closely with the Division of Wildlife, and they treat injured wild animals for free. In addition, for many years, one of the veterinary technicians carried a wildlife rehabilitation license.
My relationship with Animas Animal Hospital continues, even though I have not been employed there for many years; I still have a key. I am grateful for my friendship with both the original and the current owners, which allows me the freedom to use the facility and its staff. Somehow, I am grandfathered in like an old fence that delineates a property line although the survey disagrees.
During the 1990s, five veterinarians worked at Animas Animal Hospital, and they were always busy with medical, surgical, and emergency cases. I often stopped by when I traveled through town. I used the microscope and X-ray processor, talked with the staff, picked up deliveries from veterinary suppliers, consulted with the other doctors on cases, and visited the “prisoners” in the back of the hospital, the area where the cages were located and treatments were done.
On one occasion, I entered through the back door to see a tiny orange kitten hanging from the bars of her kennel, calling, “Mew, mew, mew,” just as Dr. Walter Truman walked into the room holding a peregrine falcon. The bird was calm, showing no fear. He just stared into my eyes like he found me as interesting as I found him. His spirit felt strong and his feathers were gorgeous.
“Look at those feathers,” I said.
“They’re in good shape,” said Walt. “He hasn’t been on the ground long; he was hit by a car. Look at how blue the sere is.” I studied the area around the nostrils as Walt continued. “He’s young, probably one or two. This is the third peregrine I’ve seen hit by a car on the highway by Yellow Mesa. It feels like the wing is broken. Stick around; I’m about to X-ray him.”
“You’re holding the world’s fastest creature in your arms,” I said.
“Yeah, they’re amazing. They’ve been clocked at over two hundred miles an hour. I’ve seen them climb up into the sky over a duck pond so high you can’t see them, and then, when the ducks are flushed off the pond, dive down and take a duck’s head off.” Walt walked into radiography as I played with the kitten’s paws that reached out through the cage bars to touch me.
I glanced around the room to see what other interesting cases were in for the day. “Whoa, is that a fox?”
“Isn’t she sweet?” answered Dr. Jane Becker. “A couple brought her in. They swerved their car to miss her mother and bumped into her.”
Tears formed in my eyes at the sight of the beautiful fox kit. Her pointed, black nose and silver fur captivated my attention. Her deep, dark eyes looked into mine with complete calm. She seemed peaceful, reminding me of stories about the Galapagos Islands, where the first visitors found that wildlife had no fear of humans. A person could walk right up to an animal and pick it up. Only after humans started taking specimens and doing research did they become afraid. After that, the young learned from their mothers to run away. “This girl obviously doesn’t fear us yet,” I said.
“She is innocent. Of course, we aren’t handling her. We want her to stay wild. Fortunately, there’s nothing wrong with her. Unfortunately, Walt says she’s too young to know how to feed herself. I tried to tell the people to leave her where she was when they called, but they were already on the way in with her.”
People often find wildlife and think they need to rescue the creatures, but the reality is wildlife may do better without human intervention. A fawn, for example, is often left by the doe in a place to remain still until she returns from foraging. People find the fawn and take it home, thinking it has been abandoned, while the mother only went shopping and will return to find her baby kidnapped.
I felt so bad for the fox and her kit being separated that I almost cried. Without a mother, how would she learn to hunt? The people who captured her meant well, but with wildlife, we are better off letting them be. We have to remember that nature’s way is best.
I walked back to the X-ray table to check on the picture of the peregrine as Dr. Truman was reading it. “Oh, that’s too bad,” he said. “Both the radius and ulna are fractured. Usually if one is broken, the other bone acts as a splint, and the wing heals really well. But with both broken, I’ll have to do a surgical repair with a Kirschner external fixation apparatus. Then I’ll send him to the rehab center over in North Fork. They have a flight cage there the size of three basketball courts.”
The spirits in the falcon and the fox touched me. I felt some inner presence streaming from their eyes, some unnamed light flowing through them. The force from the elk that knocked me down and the force that moved my body to fight felt powerful even though they were invisible. This was the beginning of my investigation into the spiritual nature of animals.
The Beginning: Creation and the Garden Paradise
In the beginning, that is, in mythical times, man lived at peace with the animals and understood their speech. It was not until after a primordial catastrophe, comparable to the “Fall” of Biblical tradition, that man became what he is today — mortal, sexed, obliged to work to feed himself, and at enmity with the animals.
— MIRCEA ELIADE1
In countless cultures, ancient stories tell of a golden age, in the beginning of time, when people lived in peace with one another and with the animals in a garden paradise that provided abundant vegetation as food for all. The animals communicated with the people, and they understood one another. Then something happened that changed everything.
Even though the stories of humans and animals communicating seem like fables, their ubiquitous presence lends credence to the possibility that, at one time, people did indeed believe understanding was shared. Although many consider paradise myths fiction, they also have historical bases and may reflect ongoing truths about our world and our relationship with animals.
Richard Heinberg, in his book Memories and Visions of Paradise, concludes that the two — historical fact and symbolic metaphor — are intertwined. History, as a discipline, originated in myth; both are stories of our past. History exists in myth as surely