A segue into the wild side

Our pets shape our relationship with nature and deepen our sense of wonder.

On our morning walks with Pippi, we don't meet people or their dogs but look forward to our encounters with squirrels, geese, gulls, rabbits and stray cats. On rare occasions, we have raccoons, skunks, turtles, and coyotes join us too. (If you are wondering, this is all in our neighbourhood park in Toronto). Of course, there are a thousand other tiny critters, but they don't seem to draw Pippi's attention. He has a characteristic way of interacting with each species. Sighting a squirrel means sitting for hours, watching it closely and stalking its every move. Rabbit encounters are rather chilled out; he just watches them hop from a distance and tries to chase them when they get too close for comfort. The high-pitched honking of geese and gulls annoys him to no end. A few loud threatening barks, Pippi thinks, should keep the coyotes and cats away.

We are left with no choice but to join the watch party. It's our daily dose of curiosity, drama and wonder. We have witnessed the fiercest territorial wars in the squirrel world and the no-Monday-blues enthusiasm of rabbit tots basking in the summer sun. The ruckus the unruly goslings create in the flock sums up parenthood. The other day, Pippi caught a whiff of raccoons, and we were treated to the sight of a family — mum, dad and two babies — on an early morning adventure. I can only imagine how monotonous our walks would be without Pippi and his razor-sharp senses!

In my science writing, I love to delve into the complex lives of animals — from elephants to tiny ants. What really drew my attention to the fantastic world of plants and animals? As I pondered over it, I began to realise it may have all started with the closest animals I had —my pets; they were and still are my segue into the wild side. I figured out that my interest in nature stemmed from observing the wonderful world my pets built around me.

Animal visitors

Two decades ago, our house on the outskirts of Bengaluru was surrounded by ragi fields and coconut groves. The lash of the monsoon rains would bring many rhino beetles to our porch, freaking me out. A few snakes loved the sunshine that followed and would lounge on the boulders nearby. Rinky, our Mudhol hound, had assumed the role of protecting me and the house from these reckless 'monsters' (in her head). She would shoo away the beetles with disgust and give out a loud, distinct bark when she sniffed a snake. A giant cobra, who we affectionately called 'Mr Nags', was a frequent harmless visitor. On some days, he would bring a kid or two along on his stroll.

On 'hearing' Rinky's warnings (okay, snakes don't have ears but can sense vibrations), Mr Nags and his family would take all the time they needed to find their safe spot. We would watch it all from the safety of our compound. Our dinner table conversations then revolved around why snakes slither, what they eat, how they find food, how they heard Rinky's barks and everything in between.

Belli, our Spitz, wanted nothing to do with animals. She instead found joy in eating up leaves and buds from my dad's plants, much to his annoyance. We would try to reason out why she picked the stevia leaves or the gerbera buds over the rest. Rinky and Belli shared a love-hate relationship, just like two teenage sisters. Their fights did not revolve around food or treats —it was about who got the cosiest corner to sleep! My brother and I were in charge of spotting any signs of a would-be flare up and calling our parents to sort things out as soon as the first growl began. That meant watching their body language, understanding how they react to panic and calm, and what would startle animals (answer: quick movements). It was our first ethology class.

I believe that people opt to have pets in their lives not because they love animals, but the other way round. For me, my early interactions with pets shaped how I observe nature, understand its complexity and appreciate its dynamics. Without pets in my life, I would probably have still written about animals, but my sense of wonder would have remained only knee-deep. How have your pets shaped your relationship with the wild?

Tailspin is your monthly column on everything that’s heartwarming and annoying about pet parenting.

The writer is a science communicator and mom to Pippi, a five-year-old rescued Indie, who is behind her drive to understand dogs better. She tweets @RamanSpoorthy