My call from the wild actually began with domesticated animals like horses, dogs, and cats, followed by a dying deer and other wildlife in Germany. Many strange things happened to me, which were not explainable, but the story I want to share took place when my former husband and my two boys immigrated with me to Canada and bought this very special place with 320 acres in beautiful British Columbia. I called it Sunny Paradise Ranch, because even in the winter the sun was almost always shining and because I’d never seen anything so beautiful and peaceful.
The way we found the place was magical in itself. While still in Germany I had a vision one morning of a place so beautiful and big—a valley surrounded by mountains, with the spot we were supposed to live pointed out to me. I was stunned by its beauty and the power of the vision. Talking to my husband about it, he joked that we should not have any problem finding the place as it was so big. Little did we know at the time how big Canada and British Columbia are.
We did find the place, however, thanks to my husband and the realtor, who showed us two properties in a valley in the mountains. On the first property I felt nothing, just as with all the other properties we had seen. But the moment I put my feet on the property I’d seen in my vision I could feel the land vibrating underneath five feet of snow. It was literally singing with joy that we’d found it. It was January.
My husband trusted my vision and intuition, so we bought this wonderful place. It had only an old log home on it, which was so drafty the wind came right through cracks between the logs. Our first night in the cabin was quite scary: two city people with two young boys and no clue as how to survive in “the bush.” We had a fireplace, two mattresses, some blankets to share, and enough firewood for one night. Instead of city street lights and neighbors and traffic, we were surrounded by tons of snow and darkness. There were just a few stars out and deep quiet.
Then the sounds of the wild began. Everyone in the cabin but me, our Great Pyrenees Sam, and a beautiful green-eyed, long-haired kitten we called Socks, was sleeping. The night was filled with sounds and calls from wild voices that were coming closer and closer. Sam was getting nervous and wanted to go out and chase away whatever was approaching us, but I was too worried to let him go. He was a sweet and gentle giant, raised with our sons just a bit outside the city in Germany, and had no experience with wild animals. All I knew is that he would die trying to protect us, and there was no need for that, as we were safe in the log home.
Breathing more deeply to relax myself, I started to stretch out my spirit in order to feel who and what was out there. I realized that our visitors were simply curious about us, the new arrivals in the valley. After a while, everyone out there went about their business again, but they were very aware of our scent and energy. I finally slept, with Sam and Socks right next to me.
The longer we lived in this place, the more my awareness grew. My husband bought a rifle, thinking he might need it against bears, cougars, coyotes, or the occasional wolf. Neighbors said they had to defend themselves and their kids from bears trying to come into the house or shop to steal food. I was amazed. This sounded like the Wild West we read about in books.
After two weeks, the two horses and the ten sheep and ram we had purchased in Fauquier arrived, and the gentleman who’d sold us the ranch gave us two Hereford calves as a gift. Now the sounds of the wild were mixed with the sounds of our own animals, and I learned to listen and feel on a deeper level. I knew when the animals were fine and just talking to each other, and I learned the different calls when danger was approaching. I learned that keeping pants, boots, a shirt, jacket and a big flashlight–with fully charged batteries—close by was a good idea, as the wild animals always looked for an easy meal and the sheep were so very inviting and tasty.
One early morning we awoke to the sheep calling out in great fear, trying to get their babies close and warning each other to come together in a tight circle. My husband and I jumped into our clothes and ran outside to see what was going on. A big coyote was trying to find his way into the sheep pen for breakfast. My husband shouted a warning, and the coyote stopped and looked us over. Deciding we were too far away to do him any harm, he returned to pursuing his hunt, so my husband ran back into the house to get the rifle. The coyote’s energy transformed immediately, and all of a sudden I started feeling what the coyote was feeling. He had sensed the shift in my husband’s energy from surprise and a bit of fear to anger and protection. The coyote correctly anticipated my husband would get a gun and now knew his life was in danger. Just as he turned to leave, my husband took a single shot and the coyote went down. No pain, he just dropped.
I let Sam go—actually, I could not hold on to him any longer—and my sweet gentle dog went crazy. He charged the dead coyote and started biting him ferociously in the throat, tossing him around and stomping on him. I could not believe my eyes—my sweet “baby” turned into a wild animal, making sure the coyote was dead and could not harm us. My husband took the tail of the coyote and held it up to examine him more closely, but Sam jumped up and ripped the animal out of his hand to make sure once more it was truly dead. Needless to say, I was very proud of my husband for being such a good shot that the coyote did not suffer; yet I still couldn’t help thinking, “There must be a better way.” I also wondered whether, if what I’d experienced had truly been the coyote’s feelings, maybe the other animals could sense my emotions and intentions also. At any rate, there was no harm in trying.
So I became quiet and opened my mind and asked the coyotes around us to make a deal with me. I offered to leave them the leftovers from our butchering in the fall, and if that was not enough and they were very hungry in the winter, I would get them more food. Their part of the deal was to leave our livestock alone and not hunt them anymore. If they broke the deal, we would hunt them down and kill them. If they honored the deal, we would live together peacefully and happily. My husband thought I was crazy and it would never work, but I told him there was no harm in trying.