What do wolves, chimpanzees, and trees all have in common?

It is not a riddle, not exactly. It was the challenge presented to me recently as an animal shaman and as a writer.

Traditionally, the role of a shaman is multi-faceted: to be a bridge between the “real’ world and the spirit world on behalf of the community; to act as a liaison between the human community and All Our Relations -- the Animal People, Tree People and Stone People; to assist in physical/emotional/spiritual healing of the members of the human community, and in my case, the animal community as well.

In these modern times I am feeling a bit overset because the need for so many is so great. Global warming is a paramount threat; animal abuse still abounds in so many forms, puppy mills, dog fighting, etc.; community and family structures are fragmenting; and so on.

When I feel particularly challenged I often retreat to my sure place of solace and seek the company of animals and nature. Except this time no solace was to be found, only needs greater than my own.

It began with a visit to the Woodland Park Zoo here in Seattle, to celebrate a friend’s birthday. As was my usual habit before the visit I sent Reiki along with a message to all the animals that I would be there, and added that if there was anyone who needed energetic assistance I was willing to do what I could. Since it is difficult to cover the entire zoo in one day I asked if there was an area or particular animals that I should visit. I received very clear information that I was to go to the Northwest exhibit, and that I should visit the wolves in particular.

I found this message interesting since in past visits I had only seen a wolf on two occasions, and only one wolf at that. The last sighting was quite memorable. It was dusk and late in the day, the zoo was preparing to close. Some friends and I were standing by the wolf enclosure hoping for a glimpse, but seeing no one. We walked on a little further, talking. Then suddenly, a wolf appeared. One minute it was not there, the next it was. It was looking right at us, and it was close. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, not from fear, but from awe at its beauty, intelligence and ability to move unseen.

We hurried on, as the zoo was closing (although I personally can think of many worse fates than being in the zoo overnight with all the animals). Walking alongside the railing we neared the section of the wolf enclosure that has many trees, resembling a pocket forest. And there was the same wolf, seemingly materializing out of thin air. No sound heralded its appearance, no warning of its presence. And again, it was looking right at us. The wolf held eye contact with me, the zoo slipped away, and the wolf and I were in the wilderness, just the two of us, communing, spirit to spirit.

Regretfully, I shook off the spell and we hurried along, rounding the bend in the enclosure, and again, the wolf was there, staring at us, quietly radiating calmness and confidence in its ability to appear and disappear. It was stalking us, but not with intent to hunt, but rather to be with us. I never did discover why. For me it was enough to simply be in the presence of a wild animal, one who seemed to want to be in ours. Perhaps the wolf had wanted to be seen and acknowledged.

As I prepared for this visit, I wondered what was needed, and what would happen this time when I answered the call of the wild.

Arriving at the enclosure, it appeared that there were two wolves out, but they were on the far side, and not easily seen. My friend and I continued on, hoping to see them better from the other side.

They did not seem inclined to leave the upper reaches of the enclosure, so I started taking some long distance shots. Shooting was difficult, too many trees, when the wolves did move focusing became problematic. I developed a healthier respect for wildlife photographers who worked in the field, but was not sensing any messages from the wolves, nor any apparent desire for them to interact with me.

We decided to continue on to the other exhibits and return.

I sometimes wonder if the universe just waits for me to arrive before dropping the spiritual equivalent of a bomb, I often seem to be the only witness, and this time was no exception. I was standing in front of the elk enclosure, where a beautiful young male was attempting to take a nap, when a woman to my left suddenly bellowed at him, “You are a DISGRACE to elk, you should be ashamed of those antlers!” My jaw practically hit the ground in sheer amazement, and still in shock I heard the man standing with her add loudly, “It’s probably why he’s in a zoo.”

I was literally speechless, I wanted to speak up and ask them if they would berate a young man entering adolescence whose voice was changing. Didn’t they realize that male elk shed their antlers every year, and with each year of maturity the rack becomes greater and more magnificent? This beautiful elk was a teenager. The couple moved away before I could recover my powers of speech, perhaps for the best, as I was angry.

As I have noted in past articles such as New Year’s Revolutions, Part 1, it is for situations like the one I had just witnessed that I make visits to the zoos when I can to see what the animals need. This elk needed clearing of the heavy, negative energy that had just been directed straight at him.

Anger gave way to despair and sadness, and a lot of questions.

How could I, one person, hope to change the attitudes that most of the world seemed to share about animals? How could I hope to build bridges of understanding, care and compassion between the human species and the animals that now were so desperately dependent on our goodwill?

In my years of practice I have learned ways to prevent the deadly build-up of hucha (heavy energy) that clings to the zoo enclosures, ultimately affecting the emotional and physical well-being of the animals who live there and who have no escape from the daily onslaught. How would I be able to find a way to pass along what I had learned to the keepers who work with the zoo animals daily? I have no scientific background, no credentials of the kind they respect, perhaps another bridge would have to be built between the ancient healing traditions and modern science before such a momentous event could take place.

Why did our species not understand that the zoo was the home of the animals, that we are the guests, and therefore we should treat our hosts with respect? For me the answer seemed to lie in that we see animals as separate and different, not as similar or same. We don’t seem to treat other human beings who fit the same criteria any differently. And we do not view the entire earth as our home, where all of us are guests.

Completely discouraged and out of sorts I headed back to the wolves, perhaps I could find peace or answers there.

I could feel the pull to the wolves, but because of my own turmoil I could not be sure whether it originated in my need or from theirs. One wolf headed down toward me, and pausing at the fence, looked directly at me, holding eye contact, striving to communicate. I failed to get anything more than that, my emotions were in too much turmoil.

My friend and I headed back to the upper portion of the enclosure, and the wolves gifted the onlookers there with clear glimpses of them. I began taking pictures hoping that in that way I might better connect and sense why I had been asked to visit.

One wolf was shyer than the other, not making himself fully visible most of the time. I drifted off to the right side of the enclosure to make way for other people so that they could see. Just when I had given up trying to discover why I was there, the shyer wolf appeared through the trees, and looking right into my lens held my gaze. I detected a plea, I could feel the call, but could not put words to it. What was he trying to say?

To read the next part in this series click here.

The photo of the wolf at the beginning of this article is the same wolf mentioned in the last paragraph.
Through Wolf Eyes is available for purchase as a mini poster or greeting card.

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An early pioneer in the field of alternative healing for animals since 1996, Rose De Dan, Wild Reiki and Shamanic Healing LLC, offers a unique perspective on animals and the natural world through her writing, art, sessions and classes. As an animal shaman, voice of the animals, and author of Tails of a Healer: Animals, Reiki and Shamanism, she views her role as a healer as one of building bridges between people and animals, and of empowering them to reconnect with Pachamama, Mother Earth.

In partnership with her animal companions she teaches Reiki and shamanic classes in Seattle, WA and offers private consultations for both humans and animals. For individual sessions and phone consultations reach her at (206) 933-7877 or send an email.