I get on real well with kids, dogs, and animals of all sorts. Mothers complain that their babies would rather have me hold them, put them to bed and get them up again after nap time. Actually, they fall asleep in my arms with their ears pressed against my chest above my heart, which beats very slowly when I'm at rest, probably because of a life of hard physical activity that makes it beat so fast and hard much of the time.

But that can't be the whole story since I get on just as well with wild critters that never sleep in my arms. My theory about them is that I'm alert and respectful. I notice them at a distance, hear their small sounds, and react with deference. They have as much right to their space as I have to mine.

Wild turkeys nest nearby. They sun themselves, and take the shade, sitting on the board fence by the kitchen window. Mothers bring their chicks into the yard to scratch and peck. They make soft cries when I come around, not in alarm but as a sort of greeting that means something like "we're here in case you didn't notice, and need about 20 feet of free space between us to feel comfy".

The normal varmints are much the same. Deer browse in the yard, bobcats and coyotes mouse around, redtail hawks and owls perch in the trees, skunks and possum slink around at night, rabbits and squirrels only move aside so that I don't step on them by accident, and today a bear is hanging around.

It's berry season so they come down off the mountain to gorge themselves. They like peaches and apples too, but the black berries are abundant and not guarded. Thing is, they usually come around at night since people shoot them. Even old timers are surprised to hear that they come here in the daytime and pay me no mind.

I get a lot of practice socializing with animals since I raise them. There's a fussy little dance we do that tells intention and attitude. The way you move and hold yourself is like talk to them, and I have learned it as a second language. I'm sure I speak it poorly by their standards, but they get my meaning and I get some of theirs.

I talk every day with my steers since I do managed grazing. I walk among them to see how they are and how well they did on their current paddock - what they ate, what they refused, the quality of their dung, etc. - and roam all over the pasture picking out the paddock that most needs their attention today. Then I open it up, walk an alley back to their old paddock, open it up, give them a double cheek click and walk back to the new paddock with them following right behind.

I go to the sweetest spot in the paddock and bend over to pull any weeds that grow there. It makes a sound much like they make ripping off tufts of grass to eat. Maybe they think that I'm grazing in my weird way. So, they come right there and graze with me for a while. And I do know how to pick the sweet spots, so it pays to come with me and do as I do.

I mention this since another theory I have about why the wild critters don't fear me is that they think that I'm some sort of odd, deformed steer and of no account in the red-in-tooth-and-claw continuum. I'm just another critter making a living in the field. Live and let live. I'm civil by their lights, and so trustworthy.

Maybe there's a general truth in this that applies as much to babies and domestic pets as to the wild critters. The comfortable handling that might seem to explain the relationship with familiars isn't the primary factor, it's the same body language and social attitude that applies to wild as well as domestic critters. Babies, after all, are still more wild than grown people, more like other animals, and may be wired to speak that language in their way.

Whatever. I don't have a burning need to explain it. It would be useful from time to time to be able to tell grown people what's going on, since few of them seem to have any idea that anything is even being discussed unless words are involved. It's like dog whistles to them. They don't hear the sounds. What is important to me is the conversation. Having a small chat with a bear that consists of almost imperceptible gestures and glances gives me a sense of worth and well being that I seldom get in other ways.

I'm easily amused.

Update:

John e'd me about this article

The wireless headset, called the "Ear-A-Round," has stereo earphones that transmit sounds directly into the cow's ears to guide its movement. Powered by a small solar energy panel, the unit contains a GPS device to monitor a cow's location and movement. . .

"It has the potential to give farmers a much finer control of pastures, finer management of where animals are and a better use of the land," . . .

The device works by using sound to keep an animal within a "virtual paddock" through GPS technology . . .

Rus said it's important to first understand cow behavior to achieve the best results. Because cows tend to follow leaders, Anderson is working to identify herd leaders and outfit them with the device for the field test.

"If you try to get them to move from point A to point B and you don't understand their behavior, you're less likely to have success," . . .

Anderson has sung his song during training exercises to get the animals to move. If they pause for longer than a few seconds, he will use the song cue to get them moving again.

If the sound cues fail, the headset can give a small electrical shock to move unresponsive cows.

Rus and Anderson also plan to test other sounds as possible cues, including naturally repulsive sounds for cows such as barking dogs and hissing snakes.

Any cue will do so long as you are consistent, so long as that sound is only ever used to mean one thing. I've trained different mobs to various cues over the years. For a while I carried a pitch pipe like musicians use to tune their axes, and blew middle C whenever I wanted them to come or follow me. One year I pretended that I was a restaurant host and ran this long spiel about how their table was ready and what was on the menu - same words every day. They all work the same.

However, they only do what you want when they want to do what you want. You are asking them to do what they would do anyway if they could. All you are doing is picking the time and place. That's important to grasp since you won't get good results if you ask them to do something dumb. If they already have a perfectly nice paddock it won't make any sense to them if you want them to move anyway. Then response is slow at best. And if you ask them to move when they need to loaf - nap and chew their cuds - results will be bad. Their brains sort of go offline at those times and if you force them back online they'll be crabby. If you push them they'll get lathered and throw a tantrum. Can't blame them really. You're the one who is supposed to be smart. . . or at least trained. Hmmm, maybe the steers have trained me?