Jon Katz - Talking to Animals: How You Can Understand Animals and They Can Understand You

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Copyright 2017 by Jon Katz

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Atria Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Atria Books hardcover edition May 2017

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Interior design by Amy Trombat

Jacket design by Janet Perr

Jacket photograph by Maria Wulf

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Katz, Jon, author.

Title: Talking to animals / Jon Katz.

Description: First Atria Books hardcover edition. | New York : Atria Books, 2017.

Identifiers: LCCN 2016032799| ISBN 9781476795478 (hardcover : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781476795492 (trade pbk. : alk. paper)

Subjects: LCSH: Human-animal communication.

Classification: LCC QL776 .K38 2017 | DDC 591.59dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016032799

ISBN 978-1-4767-9547-8 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-4767-9549-2 (trade pbk.)

ISBN 978-1-4767-9550-8 (ebook)

To Maria and the Animals

I was walking on a path in the deep woods by the big old Civil Warera farm I had impulsively purchased a few months before. It was just after dusk, and the light was fading. Enchanted by the dark, soft feel of the forest, I entered a beautiful and alien world. I was so glad to be there, and even happier that my new dog, Rose, was coming with me.

Rose was a young border collie who had just come to me from Texas. I had great hopes for her as my farm dog. In just a few days, Rose had grasped the concept of taking a walk. When I left the house, she ran eagerly alongside me and stayed close, as great working dogs will instinctively do.

One day, we were out walking, enjoying our time together, when suddenly the atmosphere on the path changed, grew tense. Something was happening, something I could sense but not readily see or hear in the gathering darkness. Rose had stopped. A busy, curious, fast-moving dog, she was frozen in place. She had gone into a crouch, but it was not a herding crouch, which is low and tense and close to the ground. Her hair was standing up on her neck; so, I realized, was mine.

Rose had moved directly in front of me, as if to protect me. I didnt understand what was going on until I looked beyond and saw three pairs of gleaming yellow eyes, staring right at us, a hundred feet straight ahead.

Three coyotes, right there on the path, as if they were expecting us. I was not prepared for such an encounter. I had never seen a coyote, but Id been told that coyotes avoided humans, and never confronted them. I expected them to run at the sight of this big man and his dog. They did not. They looked calm, curious, determined. So did Rose. The dog and the coyotes mirrored one another, their postures almost identical.

My biggest fear was that Rose would charge ahead, choose to fight, and try to fend the coyotes off as if they were sheep. I had already seen how protective Rose was of me. Once, when a ram charged me from behind (they do that sometimes, since they are full of testosterone) and knocked me into a fence post, this little dog had dug a hole under the fence that was penning her in, charged up the hill, grabbed on to the rams testicles, and run the poor screaming creature down the hill.

Rose did not back down from anything.

I had no idea what to do. I thought of breaking off a branch or picking up a stick, but worried that any movement might set off an attack. Rose stepped forward a few feet. I told her to stay in a loud, clear voice. It was a request, not a command. The forest had gone deathly quiet.

Instinctively, I froze and decided to be patient and still. I took a deep breath, cleared my head. I knew not to turn and run, but I was not sure I could control this young and strong-willed dog. I was still just a city boy, and I was not prepared for this.

Then, a curious thing happened.

I closed my eyes and cleared my head. Forget everything you have known or thought about the woods, dogs, coyotes, fear, I told myself. Take a deep breath, think strength, feel strong . I had no commands to give Rose, no words, but I had images and I painted a sketch in my head of what I wanted to happen, what I was sure would happen. Project confidence, I told myself. Be sure, be clear. I imagined Rose still, ears up, tail up, back straight. Border collies know how to stare. I had already seen her intimidate sheep. Stare. Dont scream at her, I told myself. Dont shout words she doesnt comprehend, spew commands she doesnt know.

In my head, there was this scene: Rose staying absolutely still, meeting the coyotes gaze, showing strength, but not aggressiveness. She would not run, she would not fight. She would communicate that it was her path, her human. That she had a right to be there and would stand her ground. The coyotes, clever opportunists, could go find some easier and safer target for their food.

Right then, she did exactly what I imagined her doing. She stood her ground, held her gaze and posture. She looked absolutely confident and resolute, as if this were her path and there was no way she was giving ground. She could have done a hundred thingsrun, barked, fought, growledbut she did precisely what I wished her to do.