Linda Rodgers and I took Thundercloud for a walk. He had been breeding with Lil Bit that week, and he didn’t want to leave his view of the ladies. He hummed and tried to turn back, pulling hard on the lead rope. Before breeding season, he had relished hiking, but it held no charms for him now. So we put him back in and took Lally with us instead. She nibbled her way along the trail, as Linda and I talked and strolled.
“Since animals don’t have verbal language, they must think differently than we do,” Linda commented.
“Yes, maybe more like how we use the right side of our brains, the non-verbal part. It will be interesting to see how Penelope talks with them.”
I had heard about Penelope Smith’s ability to communicate telepathically with animals. Intrigued, I invited her to come to our ranch. Now she and her husband, Michel Sherman, were on a trip that would bring them to Ashland.
When they arrived, I immediately liked them both. Penelope had a straightforward, cheerful manner.
“Do you want to start with the dogs or the llamas?” she asked.
“Let’s go out with the llamas, starting with Blossom, and then we can come in and have some tea while we do the dogs,” I suggested.
Blossom was just over two years old now, and pregnant for the first time. She was living alone in a temporary field because she’d had an abscess that the vet had removed surgically a few days earlier. He didn’t want her back in with the other llamas until the incision stopped draining. Now she was pacing her fence line.
“She doesn’t want to talk right now,” Penelope said. Blossom turned and looked at us. “Let’s start with another llama, and let her listen in. Then maybe she’ll have more to say.”
We turned around, and there were Posey, Renny, and Lally at the fence. Penelope was quiet for a few moments, and then began talking.
“Posey isn’t sure she wants to be here, on this planet. She isn’t really of this earth. She became curious about it, and came into a llama body with the attitude that she could always leave. Now she has become enmeshed, as we all do, in the things of this world.
“She has sometimes even thought about killing herself by dashing into a fence or running off a cliff, but she doesn’t know how to do it. She doesn’t like to be handled by people because it makes her feel more trapped in her body.” We hadn’t said anything to Penelope about how frantic Posey could become when handled, especially for veterinary procedures.
Kelly had come down from his video studio in time to hear Penelope’s comments about Posey.
“I never would have thought of anything like that,” he said, “but you’ve really captured the essence of her personality. She’s always been flighty and uncertain.”
I found Penelope’s comments delightful. They rang true. It was a stretch to think of a llama in this way, but something in me was resonating to Penelope’s words. I wanted to hear about every animal on the place.
Posey was standing with her back to us, watching Penelope’s dogs. Lally and Renny, together as usual, were sitting near her. “They calm her,” Penelope said.
“One of them is her baby, the other isn’t,” I said.
“They both have a good effect on her. The llamas are all so close to each other. Their minds are very linked.”
I thought about my ruminations on the group mind of llamas. Penelope was noticing the same thing.
Penelope turned to Lally. “What an incredible being,” she said. “Now there’s a teacher. She’s very loving and nurturing, and she’s very interested in communicating with people. That’s what she’s here for. She is the one of all of them who really loves people.”
Linda and I grinned at each other. We both knew that Lally was special.
