If I were to be able to speak to animals for a single day, the first thing I would want to ask them is what they perceive about human beings. Do they view us as friends, threats, or something in between? I would want to know how they feel about the world that we inhabit.
The moment I woke up with this new weird bird power, I ran out. A pigeon stood on the window, blinking at me, and I said to it: “Good morning.” To my surprise, it said: “Took you long enough. I‘ve been waiting to talk to someone!” We talked about city life from the bird‘s perspective. Apparently, pigeons possess something similar to a “sky gossip club“ where they pass information about different neighborhoods! Then I visited the park and interviewed a dog running after a frisbee. “Why do dogs love running so much?” I asked. He gave a happy bark, “It‘s freedom! Every throw is an adventure.” His tail wagged so fast, I thought he might take off like a helicopter. Then I sat by the lake and met an old turtle. He spoke to me slowly but thoughtfully. “Humans move too fast,” he said.“You don’t see the small things—the way the water ripples, the warmth of the sun.” His words stuck with me. In the afternoon, I met a cat lying on a fence. She told me that cats don‘t dislike humans; they just love space and uncertainty. “We love to keep you guessing,” she said.
When sunset came, I lay on the grass, which was filled with chirping birds and curious squirrels. For the first time, I was totally connected with nature, not as a visitor, but as an extension of its voice.
In the conclusion, I had learned one huge lesson: every animal has a story, and we‘ve only been hearing half of it.
