"Humans are here to rejuvenate the planet," the tiny bird answered.

Thinking outside the litter box
Vermont's animal communicators are a different breed
Rutland Herald, 4 March 2007

"All animals have some kind of a language. Some sorts talk more than others; some only speak in sign-language, like deaf-and-dumb. But the Doctor, he understands them all — birds as well as animals. We keep it a secret though, him and me, because folks only laugh when you speak of it."
— "The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle"

Author Hugh Lofting was on to something back in 1922 when he wrote his second book in the series about the doctor who talked to the animals. He would doubtless find it fascinating that today, hundreds of people get paid to do just that.

They call themselves animal communicators, and Vermont has several who offer their services professionally.

Nationally they number some 350, according to Penelope Smith, 60, of Prescott, Ariz., a driving force in the field since 1971.

Of course, most pet owners (a word that animal communicators dislike) talk to their dogs or cats regularly, usually in silly baby talk.

But communicating — that is, a two-way exchange — with animals is an entirely different matter, says Kristina Berg Triplat, an animal communicator from Roxbury.

When a creature is lost or seems to be in pain and the owner can't find it or figure out what's wrong, someone like Triplat holds out hope of getting the answer. By far the most common request, communicators say, is to ask a cat why it's not using its litter box.

Addressing an audience recently at Montpelier's library, Triplat asks the group: "What animal species communicates nonverbally 90 percent of the time?" Dreadlocked John, who says he came to learn how to get along better with animals, answers tentatively: "Humans?"

Correct.

Triplat, 35, explains that interspecies communication (the preferred term) is done telepathically, which is defined by Webster's as "communication between minds by some means other than normal sensory channels; transference of thought."

And because it is done telepathically, the animal and the communicator need not even meet. Most often, the communicator makes mental contact with the animal and then telephone contact with its human to relay the message. Rates start at $35 for 15 minutes.

An open mind, figuratively and literally, says Triplat, is key to success. A communicator may receive words, images or energy from an animal. In some cases, this information is relayed verbatim, or it may need interpretation by the communicator.

"You can receive the most profound truths (from an animal) or something as simple as, 'I want a cookie.' Animal communication can be a spiritual journey that leads you down paths you hadn't thought of," Triplat tells the library gathering.

Your guide on those paths could even be a garden slug.

Dawn Hayman, co-founder of the animal sanctuary Spring Farm CARES in Clinton, N.Y., has talked to more than 30,000 animals since turning pro in 1987. She also gives workshops in Vermont.

"Everybody, every living person is telepathic, regardless of intelligence level," she says. "Plants and trees, same thing. They can all communicate."

Even those slugs.

"I have actually had a profound communication from a slug," says Hayman, 43. "It's interesting because the hierarchy of how we view intelligence is based on human intelligence. Your basic garden slug? It can't write essays. It can't build bridges. But it has knowledge of the earth and the ecosystem that far surpasses any human being's. It spoke of the balance of the earth and how it felt the energy of the earth. It wanted to share that with people. It was quite profound, actually."

Animal communicator Jane Grillo, 44, who shares her Wells home and land with four dogs, one cat and assorted horses and llamas, echoes Hayman's view.

"I find that all animals are willing to communicate, and I don't find any difference in the way they communicate, really. Insects can communicate," she says, relaying the tale of the ants that had invaded her dishwasher.

"I told them very plainly: 'If you leave and go out in the patio, when we eat we'll drop crumbs, and you'll be able to have something to eat. If you stay' — I visualized the water coming up and the soap — 'this is what's going to happen to you. So, please' — I was respectful to them — 'leave.' I came back in the house. I swear to you they were in a line toward the door. I don't recall having ants in the dishwasher since then."


Naturally, the idea of mental telepathy with your average St. Bernard has its skeptics.

"Until a few years ago I was a firm non-believer in animal communication, an absolutely firm-scientific-skeptic-non-believer," says one of Grillo's clients, Kate Selby, 42, owner and director of riding at The Equestry in New Haven.

"The more and more you read about quantum physics, and particle matter, and how everything is made of energy, including communication, it has been proven over and over again, scientifically, that matter is energy, and communication and thought are energy. If you believe that ... you can access any kind of energy."

Selby explains how Grillo communicates. "She introduces herself to a horse and first asks the animal for permission to ask it some questions. She will ask me if there's anything in particular that I want to know. She will give me the answers. She may not understand the answers. Time and time again, I'd have to say close to 100 percent of the time, it makes sense."

Some are harder to convince, though. Dr. Carol Gifford, 49, of Riverside Veterinary Care in Rutland, has been practicing in Vermont since 1987, and she's a little skeptical of the pet communicator field, particularly the phone consultations.

"I'm very skeptical of that amount of psychic ability," she says. "There may be a few people in the world who truly have amazing clairvoyance. I do feel that we communicate in a meaningful way with animals every day. That's not psychic ability; it's just good observational skills."

Gifford recalls a pet communicator who came to Riverside Veterinary. (One of their services can be to relay symptoms or pain as the animal perceives it, but a professional code of ethics bars communicators from diagnosing physical illness.)

The communicator told the cat's owners that their cat liked her red pillow. The owners had taken away her red pillow and replaced it with a green one.

"Studies have shown that cats may see some colors but not the intensity or range that we do. Their visual trigger is motion," Gifford says.

"We think as humans. We interpret things we see as humans. So naturally our pets that live with us, we tend to instill human values and activities into them. That's how we view life."


"I don't think that what we do is different from what anyone else can do," says animal communicator Barbara Molloy, 56, who lives in Johnson with her two poodles. "We all have that ability. I find many times when I'm working with a client that I'll confirm things they already know about their pet. Part of what I'm doing is confirming. These are skills that we all have."

Still, most communicators interviewed say that at some point they recognized they have a special ability, sometimes encouraged by another communicator or teacher. Most of them cultivate it through training with others like Penelope Smith.

But communicating with pets and livestock is just one area of their world. There's also wildlife.

Molloy recalls driving home from a seminar, a little faster than she should have, when a squirrel ran in front of the car.

"He quickly had to get out of my way and said: 'What? Are you trying to kill me?' It suddenly brought the awareness that I'm going too fast. It seems like that's one of the things squirrels do — they make you slow down."

Animal communicators agree that their profession is an unusual and quirky one, and Julie Soquet, 59, of Hinesburg is hesitant to tell people what she does.

"There are people I would never tell if I have a sense that they might find this entertaining and kind of goofy. … But most people are quite curious about it. If they have animals, and have a good bond with an animal, I see kind of a light go on in their eyes."

Others, she says, roll their eyes.

"One day a friend of mine said out loud, 'Oh, and did you know that Julie is an animal psychic?" — another term animal communicators dislike — "I could see three people roll their eyes. … Who knows? Maybe down the road they might need the services of someone like me, and even though they rolled their eyes on that day, there might be another day when they might think twice about it."

Back at the library, Triplat is winding up her presentation by answering questions. Sue wants to know if animals have a sense of humor. Yes, says Triplat, especially dogs. Gorillas, on the other hand, are very serious. Linda wants to know if dogs have names for themselves. Triplat says they usually adopt the name we've given them but may suggest a different one.

Triplat ends the evening with a story about a chickadee that flew into a closed window. She says she brought the wounded bird inside, after asking it permission to do so, and sat with the tiny creature in her cupped hands.

"How are you feeling?" she asked it. The bird said it had a headache.

Since communication is a two-way street, Triplat asked the bird:

"Why am I here?"

"Humans are here to rejuvenate the planet," the tiny bird answered.

Tips for communicating
More than any other factor, your attitude toward animals influences how receptive you are to their communication and how willing they are to communicate to you.

Believe in your intuitive ability to give and receive telepathic communication.

Watch for judgments and preconceptions that limit receptivity to what the animal is really communicating.

Let communication assume its own form, whether it is feelings, images, impressions, thoughts, verbal messages, sounds, other sensations or simply knowing.

Practice with a wide variety of animals in various situations.
Source: Penelope Smith