Just before the sun rose over the tree line, I found myself nestling into my observation nook, a hodgepodge of leaves, twigs and gentle shadows in the midst of the sprawling steppe. My target for the week was a creature of elegance and grace, a solitary wild mare I'd lovingly named Titania. A name fitting a horse of her virile vigor, and her ability to gather everyone – man or beast – around her siren call.
On the first daybreak as the steppe was basking in the golden hue, I spotted Titania, her coat glistening; a testament to her wild yet resplendent existence. Her robust physique rippled with vitality, showing signs of a life lived on her terms.
Throughout the day, Titania casually grazing on the verdant pastures looked a painting in motion. The occasional flick of her tail sent hush whispers to the wind, and her steps left invisible footprints on the real canvas – nature herself. A few straggish sparrows played close, and dear Titania merely tossed her mane, choosing to talk only to the sun, the wind and the little insects on her coat.
As the sun performed its swan song, caterwauling colors all over the sky, Titania was visited by a prancing fox who I promptly named Felix. Titania and Felix eyed each other warily. While Felix curled his snout probably saying, "A horse in my territory? The nerve!" Titania merely twitched her ear appearing to reply, "Relax, Foxy, just passing through."
On the second day, Titania ventured to the bubbling brook – or what I call 'Nature's Nectar'. Titania's encounter with Bonnie, a playful beaver, was one of the day's comical highlights. They appeared to exchange pleasantries, Titania whinnying, "Mmm, the water tastes fine today, doesn't it?" to which Bonnie slapped her tail on the water in agreement, a quick splash that could be loosely interpreted as, "Horse, you sure know your aquatic cuisine!"
By the third day, I had become used to Titania's progeny shoe of comfort around me. A strange bond was formed without so much as a word passing between us. Yes, she had spotted me by then! Our conversations, albeit imagined, were as real as the flora and fauna around us. I could have sworn the moment our eyes met, she neighed lightly, as if whispering, "I see you, writer. Is my story interesting enough?"
As dusk seeped into the world like mendacious ink dripping from a calligraphy pen, one of the significant observations was Titania's encounter with a wayward bear, who I christened Boris. The discourse was terse and tense but ended peacefully. Boris harrumphing, "You are a strange one, horse, in my woods, with no fear", and Titania stamping her hoof once as if to say, "And you are a strange one too, Bear, expecting fear where there is none.”
Understanding Titania's world over a few days has made me comprehend the beautiful interplay between various species that coexist in a habitat. Their conversations, their language is their behavior, intertwined with instinct, respect, and survival. Though my renditions of their dialogues might seem whimsically incorrect, they make one thing clear – nature has its unique, holistic language. If we endeavor to listen, we will start to understand. And with understanding, comes cohabitation and preservation.
Next time you spot a wild mare or a lumbering bear, try listening to their whispers, their language. You might just hear Titania neigh or Boris grumble, and I promise, it will be a story worth telling.
