Moyra Donaldson

Animal Communication (A Lockdown Acquired Skill)

Even when I ask nicely, the mice refuse to leave the house; put up a reasonable argument about winter chills in their small soft bones.

The rats in the feed store snigger when they see me.

Our little flock of rescue hens, they’re happy to chat anytime so long as you don’t mention the past.

A robin has set herself up as spokesperson for the garden birds, perches on the Buddha’s head; gives off at me through the window if the sunflower seeds get low in the feeders.

Crows love a good murder mystery story.

The dog’s bemused - I love you, he says, what more do you need to know?

Cat mostly keeps her thoughts to herself but occasionally mutters- under her breath that where she goes at night is nobody’s business but her own.

Spiders are cryptic, talk in metaphors. Flies are an angry lot, snipe-y little comments in passing. You can’t get much sense from those gadabouts, the daddy-long-legs and butterflies speak in little homilies intended for spiritual edification which gets boring.

The caterpillars on the nasturtiums have their mouths too full to speak, but I do get a passing thank you for the flowers from the bees on their way to work.

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