Native Tongues of the Wild by David Schneider

My first memory of animal communication came at about five years old when our neighbor's Irish setter had a young jackrabbit cornered in a small hole on the side of a hill. I ran over to observe what was going on, and without thinking I just pushed the dog away, reached in the hole, pulled out the jackrabbit, and walked home with him. He had no fear of me at all.

I have always deeply loved all wildlife and have a heart-rush when thinking about or working with them. However, it was not until I went to a Flower of Life workshop that I could put a name and functional description to what was happening. I learned there that the opening of our hearts achieves direct, instantaneous communication with any life form, especially animal wildlife.

Getting back to the jackrabbit, I now realize that I was able to stop the dog's attack and disarm the wild animal's fear with love from the open heart of a five-year-old. As Drunvalo would say, "Another example where size does not matter."

Ultimate validation and instructions on full use of this power came last May at an Earth/Sky Workshop, in Payson, Arizona.

I was in a conversation with Drunvalo about my experience raising full-blooded wolves and how they virtually never speak with their voices to each other. They use what I felt was the same technique that Drunvalo describes as communication among the Kogi and other Indian tribes throughout the world.

Wolves, of course, howl when communicating at a distance with other packs, and growl when fighting or disciplining each other. However, when my family and I had the chance to observe a pack at close range, we noticed that all of the daily operations of a wolf pack go on without audible communication.

Living on one hundred and sixty acres in a remote pine forest in the Northwest, we were able to create an environment where we could successfully raise and observe a wolf pack. Approximately five acres were fenced around the house to enclose us all into the same space, but no fences separated us. We just walked out the door and we were in the wolf yard.

The pack started with Shasta, our spayed house pet, a half-Malamute, half-Alaskan silvertip red wolf.[1]

It was not easy to find a pack of diverse young pups close in age that had genuine full-blooded parents with stable dispositions. Finally locating five terrific little pups from several different states, the real blessing emerged out of Shasta. Although she'd never raised pups herself, she took over the pack immediately, like a veteran.

Because Shasta was tame, she allowed us to get close to the pups from the very start. As long as Shasta was with us, they would all huddle in a group to receive the same attention. At this point, communication was similar to what I would describe as "inwardly knowing" from experience and expression.

What turned out to be missing in the pack was a naturally wild, wilderness-wise male Alpha wolf. Enter Hood.

One day, we got a call from a friend saying a wolf had just walked out of the forest and that her daughters were playing with him. She asked me to come to the rescue before someone shot him. I agreed to come in and check out the situation, thinking in my mind that it had to be somebody's pet wolfdog that got loose. Wild wolves are virtually extinct in the Northwest.

I drove to the small town (population about two hundred) where my friend lived, about 30 miles away, pulled in at her house, parked my truck — which has a welded steel cage bolted to the bed — and walked around back. My heart melted as I got my first look. There sat a full-grown timberwolf, with three little girls under ten feeding him hotdogs while their parents watched in amazement.

He was almost pure white, with a gray back and red/blond mottling around his ears. Most impressive, though, was the enormous triangular hood of fur around his neck. Hence the name Hood.

Communication between us began at first sight, but it took me a while to put all of the pieces together. I was visualizing what it would be like to have him in the wolf yard, without realizing that he saw everything I was seeing. I could feel him responding in my heart, but I was not developed enough to grasp what he was saying to me.

Hood then walked up to me and half-jumped at me, pushing me with his front feet. We walked around front to the wolf truck. He just leaped into the back and we drove home.

Upon arrival it was clear that everybody knew already that a new wolf was coming. From a distance, I could see all of the wolves anxiously waiting by the fence — something that they would not normally do. A fever of excitement filled the air as I released Hood from the back of the truck.

All the wolves raced around the yard in total ecstasy. It was a spectacular event to watch. After about ten minutes or so they stopped, and there was a stillness in the air.

Without a word, Hood picked out his Alpha female — Gravity — and the rest of the pack fell in line. We were captivated. It was intriguing to watch the body language of the pack, and we felt very honored to have Hood share this ceremony with us.

The whole energy of the ranch changed at that moment. We now had a natural leader of the pack and a new friend. From that point on, all communication with the wolves was silent. The silence was the same as in meditation, when you receive information without words — instant understanding or images revealing what is to be understood.

The first example of this silence happened at feeding time. The normal piranha-like feeding frenzy became more like the graduating class at a finishing school. Hood never allowed any rude behavior. This was exciting, so I started to use this technique on all of the local wildlife, with varying degrees of success. We realized in short order that wolves are a very highly evolved species.

There is, however, a down side. We had picked our property because it was a natural environment for wolves to live in, and in the winter at five thousand feet in the Cascade Mountains, it's cold. But even when it was ten below zero, Hood would wake us up at the crack of dawn, wanting to play! Like a message from our higher self, he would light up our hearts, and we were wide awake.

It felt great, and I loved him dearly — but I was not going to be trained to play with him at that hour any day of the year.

Prior to getting the wolves, we rescued a six-week old mountain lion and named him Buddha Cat. We bottle-fed and raised him in the house, sandbox and all. Our twenty-year-old Russian blue house cat, Blueman, was not pleased, but professional courtesy prevailed, and the two became close friends.

Knowing how big he eventually would get, I built a cage directly attached to the full length of the house, and then extended it about a quarter-acre into the forest. A platform was built so he had access through the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom windows. This was all zoo-quality construction, to prevent any issues with the wolves. We had double-gate spaces so we could get Buddha Cat out safely for his daily walk around the ranch.

Communication with Buddha Cat was similar to that with the wolves, but without the same clarity. We felt the love, but not the same understanding of the bigger picture. He really is just like a regular house cat, has all the same mannerisms, and he constantly talks. He vocalizes all kinds of different variations of "wow" and assorted other sounds that I eventually translated. And, yes, he does purr. He always purrs when a friend of his is close by.

Purring became a big issue as he grew. The bigger he got, the louder it got, and considering he slept with us, the bigger he got the smaller the bed got as well. Again, just like a house cat, he purrs when he sleeps, and hogs the bed. The novelty wore thin at about sixty decibels and seventy-five pounds, and Buddha Cat was eighty-sixed to his own insulated condo outside, in his cage. He is now seven feet eleven inches nose to tail, a hundred and sixty pounds, and purrs like a '67 Volkswagen with no muffler.

Hands down, our favorite and most heartfelt animal communication would be the wolves howling as a group. A slow day would consist of three to four howls in twenty-four hours, and a great day would be six to seven howls.

The stillness and quiet out here made it easy to tune into the howls. We would feel our hearts fill up first. And then one wolf would start off, at such a low hertz that we would feel it before we heard it. And after that the entire orchestration of the whole pack would blend in at different intervals.

The different howls would put us through a variety of emotions during the day, from standing up and cheering to melting in a puddle of tears. And the wolves always left us with a message to contemplate to improve our lives. Now that I think about it, the wolves were putting on their own little Earth-Sky Workshop on a daily basis out here.

I have had the same kind of communication with other animals as I have had with our mountain lion and the wolves. In my travels, I have been able to bond with elephants, chimpanzees, macaws, African grays, horses, and — oddly enough — a salt-water fish called a Clown Trigger. This is just to name a few.

Negotiating with Insects

For me, this article would not be complete without discussing insects. Life out here in the sticks comes with a lot of insects. We have three wood-burning fireplaces, and burn about twelve to fourteen cords through the year. At any given time, there's about a cord stored in the house. Do you have any idea how many wood spiders are living under the bark? I never counted, but trust me, there is a boatload, and several varieties.

Again, until I went to Flower of Life I did not know why all this worked, but what I have to do is come from the heart and make an agreement with the spiders, remembering that they did not ask to come into the house, I brought them there. After communicating with them, I give them a way to get back outside where they live, and I love and respect them just as I do any of the other wild beings that keep up their end in the balance of nature.

Then there are ants. If you don't know already, ants are really smart. I believe that they are a big problem in cities because the soil that they live in has been poisoned, and all of their natural food has been spoiled. Out here, we have perfectly pure conditions for them, and they can function in their natural way. There are three sizes: three-eighths to a half inch, three-fourths to one-and-a-quarter inches, and one-inch-plus mega-wide.

The one-inch-plus mega-wide are totally aloof, and only grace you with an appearance when they see fit. They live outside in old dead or dying trees that are heavily laden with sap.

I've found only two exceptions. One was a small group that was inside a sapper log I brought into the wood-burning sauna a couple of years ago. They decided to stay, and somehow they have worked out all of the logistics of survival.

The other exception was an ant that I personally befriended, who lived under the Iris printer in my art studio. I fed him gourmet dinners for years. He was about one-and-three-eighths by three-eighths inch, and jet black in color. When I was working, he always hung out about six inches away from under the printer. Then one night he moved out into the room, and I rolled my chair across the floor and heard this crunch. I knew exactly what it was. It was a sad day for me.

The three-fourths to one-and-one-quarter-inch variety are rarely seen in the house. They usually come in on the wood and find a way out within a short period of time.

Earlier this summer, I went to bed leaving the honey jar open, and in the morning there were at least a thousand three-eighths- to half-inch ants having a feast. This was soon after taking the Earth-Sky workshop, and I saw this immediately as my first big test.

The ants were putting on a terrific performance, all taking turns eating, with two lines going in and out under the door jam, not the least bit concerned that I was standing there watching them.

I love ants to a fault, but this was out of control. Going into the living room, I sat down on my zafu and did my Mer-Ka-Ba, putting in the intention to have them all gone by the time I got back from town.

It takes a little over an hour to get my mail, and upon my return they were all gone. Problem solved, hail the Mer-Ka-Ba?

Not so fast Bubba.

Looking down to the left on the kitchen counter were a small group of ants: five, to be exact. Their words popped right out into my heart: "We are here to negotiate." I said to myself that this couldn't be, five ants couldn't do this. And just as fast, the words popped into my heart, "but a whole hive can."

The head negotiator was standing on his hind four legs and animating with his front two, while the others just stood motionless on all six.

I could feel the love coming from the whole hive that lived just outside the back door. They had always lived there and had never bothered us in the house. There were always a few scouts coming through, but there was never anything we ate that they liked. That is, until I forgot to put the lid on the honey jar.

Obviously, I caved in. I cleared one square foot of kitchen counter space at the far end, closest to the door. I said in my mind, and at the same time placed into my Mer-Ka-Ba, that only twenty-four ants could be on the counter at one time, and that there would be absolutely no ant dirt.

This agreement has been going on for several months now, and I have never seen more that thirty ants at one time on the honey.

I did think of putting it outside, but an instant response shot back to my heart from the ants, saying, "We already thought that through. It would attract all of the insects and flies outside, and be a huge mess." They were right, of course.

What do we get out of this? Just another lesson that nature is way ahead of us. If man could only recognize that it is just all a matter of inner power versus external force!

Becoming an animal communicator

All life on this planet can and will communicate with humankind, but the effort to meet other life forms on a common ground has to be made mutually. When something is a problem, you have to take the time to understand how and why it came about, and then seek a natural solution for both parties, or you will fail in the long run. Putting aside the negative images that our society has placed on innocent wildlife is a good place to start.

When befriending wildlife or even domestic animals for pleasure in captivity, it is your responsibility to do the research and consider from their point of view what is needed. The animal will respond to this, and communication will be much easier. There are laws of nature that simply cannot be denied. You or an animal should never feel that it is a burden to be together. If that's so, find the animal a new home. Believe me, the animal will know, and its spirit will start going downhill. That is when a lot of other problems start. A good rule of thumb is this: If you are not happy, neither is the animal. Watch for the signs.

Unconditional love and respect for all life, along with releasing fear, are the main ingredients to achieving animal communication. The Flower of Life program can teach us to activate a dormant tool that we all have, and that can make animal communication a piece of cake.

I have found that the Mer-Ka-Ba has unlimited potential in every form of communication and consciousness within the universe. It is powered with an open heart and lots of love. I don't have enough space here to tell all of the new stories post Mer-Ka-ba, but for me it's like animal communication on steroids.

One failure that I need to report is my inability to deal with Luciferian Kamikazes, commonly known as mosquitoes. I have meditated on these guys with as much love as I can muster, but simply cannot get into the zone that it takes to tame them (if there is one). Flies, no problem, just get one of Slim's harmonizers and crank it up, they can't take the energy.

In closing, I would like to thank Drunvalo, Claudette, Kathi, and the team at the Spirit of Ma'at, Aluna and Susan, for this opportunity to participate. And I want to share with you this poem from Chief Joseph:

If you talk to the animals
They will talk with you
And you will know each other.

If you do not talk to them
You will not know them,

And what you do not know
You will fear.

What one fears,
One destroys.

*I strongly recommend not to breed domestic dogs with wolves. Some of them turn out great, but I have witnessed some terrible disasters. We believe it's not the fault of the people raising the animal, but the interbreeding of domestic dogs and the wildness of the wolf that is not genetically compatible. A Malamute is the best bet, being part wolf to begin with, as well as not being overbred for show.