As it gets time for the sun to set, you'll typically find me harnessing up our dogs for a nightly walk. Caymus is a handsome, 80 pound German Shepherd/Belgian Malinois mix, and Chaypin - well, we don't actually know what she is. We adopted her when she was 4 months old, and told that as a Shepherd/Lab mix she'd grow to be about the size of Caymus. Four years later our auburn-colored quirky girl is maxed out at 46 pounds and doesn't really resemble a German Shepherd or a Labrador Retriever, so we're pretty much clueless as to her lineage. đŠź
Though our walks vary in scope and size, one thing always remains the same. We have about 35 deer that call our neighborhood home, and typically around the time of our stroll they're milling about, grazing peacefully on leaves, shrubs and acorns - quite an idyllic scene.
That is, right up until we approach.
Without fail Chaypin, my spirited bundle of fur, springs into action - piercing the peaceful stillness with her shrill barks, lunging towards the herd repeatedly with all her might in an effort to break free from the leash that's holding her back. The deer are always unfazed, save for maybe a curious glance at the red-headed lunatic in the coral harness.
And I am always horrified, pulling the dogs along as quickly as I can in an effort to not disturb my neighbors. I have tried every training method known to man to curb her behavior, clearly to no avail. đł
So imagine my surprise when - on May 27th - Chaypin joyfully trotted by the deer, uttering not so much as even the tiniest of a woof!
I was in shock. Must be a crazy fluke. Maybe she's caught up in a daydream?
But sure enough, the next day, same thing. And the next. And the next. What happened? Why was Chaypin suddenly so calm around the deer? A theory began to form in my mind. The only thing that made sense to me in explaining the sudden shift in behavior beginning on May 27th, was the events of May 26th.
May 26th was my birthday. It was a gorgeous morning, and I wanted to begin the day with my husband Curt and our pups at our favorite off-leash spot by the lake. Once there we were leisurely strolling through the woods, when all of a sudden something jumped out from under my foot, just where I was about to step. You've heard the expression "screaming bloody murder?" Well, that's practically a whisper compared to the scream I let out!
And then I realized - that "something" that seemed to jump out of the earth at me -was a sweet, gentle fawn I'd inadvertently disturbed. During the first week of their lives, babies are left in a place mama deer deems safe, while she goes off to feed. This little one blended in so perfectly with the forest floor I hadn't seen her - or him, as the case may be - in my path.
Though there was nothing rational to justify my scream, I unwittingly alerted the dogs - and chaos ensued.
Now I truly was terrified - thinking they could do something horrible to this baby. She was running away - all the while bleating like a goat, which I imagine were distress calls to her mom - with Caymus and Chaypin in hot pursuit. Then the fawn, at this age able to only go short distances, dropped down to rest. Curt and I held our breath as the dogs hovered over her, then continued to calmly call and walk towards them, so as not to encourage their frenzy. But as soon as the fawn stood and took off bleating, so again did the dogs.
I don't know how long it took, probably no more than a minute or two - that only seemed like an eternity - we were able to get close. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized that our dogs didn't have harmful intent. Though I'm sure the fawn thought differently, to Caymus and Chaypin they were all having marvelous play time. Their ears were flopped forward as they gleefully pranced next to their new friend. When the baby rested, Chaypin was nosing at her backside. Sorry - but I know dog parents can relate - sniffing butts is a way that dogs can figure out and learn more about something or someone, and Chaypin was in full-on investigative reporting mode.
We were finally able to bring our adventure to an end. We leashed the dogs and watched the fawn trot back towards where she had been napping, good as new and with a story to share with the herd.
Bringing me full circle back to my theory about why Chaypin was suddenly so calm around the neighborhood deer.
In Chaypinâs encounter with the fawn, the unknown became the known. Her previous leash antics were a fear-based response, and now having been up close and personal with the white-tailed wonders, she felt safe around them. It got me thinking about humans are much the same.
We're hard-wired to fear the unknown. In the early stages of human evolution, our ancestors lived in environments where dangers were constant, and often hidden. Fear of the unknown helped them use discretion and be vigilant, increasing their chance of survival.
Scientific studies also reveal that fear of the unknown can be reinforced through conditioning. Let's say a person experiences an undesired event in an unfamiliar situation. They may develop a conditioned response to fear similar situations in the future.
Whether through hard-wiring, conditioning or anything else, there are certainly times when approaching situations with caution is useful. But our fear of the unknown that is useful for survival, can be a hindrance in relation to achieving our goals, realizing our dreams and manifesting our desires.
Fortunately, we have within the wisdom to discern and know the difference. When we understand that fear is natural, continually wanting to keep us safe, we learn to recognize when it's also holding us back and keeping us small.
Then, it's up to us to step in to that uncertainty, tap in to our highest potential and discover our true power đ
Click below for a related meditation: Five Minute Fix #22: Welcoming the unknown with wisdom and courage.
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