Trust

As I write this I have a lovebird perched on my shoulder. Most of the time he just stares off into space, though on occasion he gently nips at my ear, either preening it or out of boredom or for the hell of it, I suppose (I don't claim to think in "bird"). Once in awhile he will nip too hard and I'll brush him away, sometimes with a mild oath. He'll fly off to his perch, and later on settle back onto my shoulder, all forgiven on both sides.

It's a relationship we have, based on earned trust. I couldn't persuade him with words to come close to me if he hadn't learned to trust me.

Out back lives a rabbit with a damaged back leg. She's staked out the area around our back porch as her own, and watches for me to refill the bird feeder so she can scrounge among the droppings. She's also learned to watch for the opening of the back door or the flicker of the porch light, knowing I will be offering her something, a cracker perhaps, or some lettuce leavings. She's gotten to the point now where she will accept things from my hand, after some gentle coaxing. But that's the limit, we have our boundaries. I could never persuade her to come near if I hadn't given her reason and time to trust me.

Then there are the squirrels. Our relationship is contentious. They rob the feeder, I chase them off. They watch me carefully, evaluating what I might do. No way I could persuade them to come too close, they have formed their (correct) opinion, and my words and tone are irrelevant to their actions. They get as close as they dare, but are always ready to bolt. That's our relationship.

Finally there are -- I'm sure there are because there always are -- the mice in our basement. I rarely see them when they are healthy, though I find dead or dying ones (poison) sometimes, and I think I hear them scurry and scratch. They fear me, and with good reason, we are enemies. There is no way honeyed words could get them to show themselves to me.

It's not really that way with people. If we listen, we are willing to be persuaded, and I think more often than not can be convinced to disregard the evidence of our experience and to trust what we are told. "This time it will be different," or, perhaps, "No, it's not the way you remember it." Or even, simply, "trust me."

We people like to say that actions speak louder than words, but I suspect it's those species without words (e.g. every other species) that evaluate us by what we do, not by what we say.

Which makes it an honor to be trusted by our pets and outside visitors and, in an inverted sense, to be distrusted by those who have learned we are not to be trusted. At least we all know where we stand.