All Creatures Great & Small

Life lessons from a vole

It’s always mystified me how horses, for all their size and stature, can be incredibly sensitive and delicate. They survived in the wild, they were bred for war and work, and yet a change in the weather can upset their whole system and cause them to colic. Even the crackling of a plastic bottle can send them into a panicked run as if a monster was chasing them.

I guess it’s a rule of Nature that how we appear to others is often not how we feel inside.

I’m a “live and let live” person when it comes to wildlife, so I haven’t really worried too much about this vole that lives in my garden. A couple of weeks ago I heard a ruckus in the yard and heard my German Shepherd, Alya, yelp like she’d been injured. Naturally I went running, only to come upon a surreal scene, like some kind of standoff before a duel at high noon. The vole, looking a little wet and rumpled but unbowed, was staring down Alya, who was now unsure about what she’d gotten herself into. I nodded at the vole and got a hold of Alya, who seemed relieved I was stepping in, if only to salvage her dignity.

You have to be impressed by something the size of a gerbil taking down a German Shepherd. Alya was not physically injured, but whatever he did to her made an impression.

With a flounce and a cranky grumble, not giving a literal rat’s ass, the vole stomped off to his lair, stopping to grab a couple of sticks on his way, sneering as he said, “This is mine, and this one, and yeah, this one is mine, too.” I could only salute him as he faded from sight.

Just as most horses don’t see themselves as big and as powerful, the vole did not see himself as small. And Alya, who is of a size that can scare a full-grown man (and has) felt vulnerable. We as humans can sometimes have the same dilemma.

Years ago, I worked for a woman who was (there’s no nice way to say this) a complete and utter and horrid bully. Initially I had empathy for her, knowing something about how she was raised by a brutal mother. But she never seemed to understand that she was behaving the same way. She hated women and was particularly hard on me. It really was so bad that even my male colleagues could see what was happening and became my allies. She would ignore my ideas and belittle my accomplishments in meetings. Yet, if one of my male colleagues raised the same idea, she would think it was great. It got so bad I learned to text my suggestion or solution to one of my male colleagues and he would raise it so it could be heard.

I found myself feeling smaller and smaller. Fearful. On the outside I may have looked fine but on the inside I felt broken.

Could I have handled it differently, refused to back down? I tried sometimes but there wasn’t much help to be had from her superiors. Ultimately it became just an effort to survive; to figure out a way to manage her so I could keep my job, protect my people, and hopefully retain some semblance of my sanity.

It’s not only horses, for all their size and stature, that can be incredibly sensitive. Sometimes things outside of ourselves can feel way too big to handle. So much of how we show up in the world boils down to how we see ourselves and what we tell ourselves.

When I get back on a horse and am frightened, I feel vulnerable. Too often I hear an inner voice that is berating me for being such a wimp, for wasting my trainer’s time, for being a poser. The voice that tells me not to put on my good boots to ride because I’m not worthy of them if I’m just going to sit there.

Seriously. That inner voice is such a bitch. I know that she came with the intention of protecting me but run amok she’d have me believe that any risk is not worth taking.

But sometimes, I get to hear the other one, the cheerleader, who reminds me what I’ve overcome to be here. How someone else might have buckled and let themselves be disabled but not you! You worked hard to heal your body and now you’re being so brave by coming back out here and getting back on. You are a good rider. And darn it, you wear those nice boots, girlfriend!

I like her. She’s nice. She’s a bit quieter than she should be sometimes. But I’m glad she’s there. She helps counter all the negative.

To sit on a horse, to ride a horse successfully, requires balance. Harmony and strength in nature is not about who is big and who is small, or who is bold and who is cautious, but in the balance of both existing and working together.

Staying balanced is not easy. We’re living in a world where bad people make themselves large to frighten and control us. But the truth is that those who seek to make us feel small are small themselves. It’s down to us to stand strong and stand together. To hold each other up and amplify each other’s voices when we are feeling unheard.

And if you hear a plastic bottle crackling behind you, I am 99.99% sure it’s not a monster. So, you know, just keep calm and carry on.

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