Moments with a Lynx...

There’s this saying I had on my fridge for years:

"Listen to this news: Today is the very day when new connections are possible and the unexpected can occur. It is the day for living with an open heart and wide eyes. Take everything in. The gifts of living are everywhere, and you are in the midst of great wonder." Author unknown. 

The above rang sweetly true on the afternoon of 2/24/2020…it was Monday, and a stunningly beautiful day. (Interestingly, the only photos I have taken on February 24th, are the ones from this particular day!)

Dogs and I had a lovely stroll beach-side as the tide was super low and wind was behaving nicely.   The kids were at school.  This is still when we lived in SE Alaska.  We didn’t have bus service, so I was getting ready to head into town to pick up the kiddos, but first had some kitchen scraps to give to our egg-laying hens. I headed out into the yard-forest.  As I approached the coop, I couldn’t help but notice the charged energy, the more than normal feathers in the pen and the fact that the girls were not outside…normally, they would have been happily greeting me.

Hhmmm, what’s going on here, I wondered.  With the bag of carrot tops still in hand and my two dogs, Opal & Pepper sniffing away at the perimeter of the coop, I carefully scoped out the situation.  There was only a dusting of snow on the ground at that time and I couldn’t discern tracks at first.  But suddenly my glance looked up just a bit into the trees, and there it was…

A Lynx.

Sitting perfectly still.  Staring straight into my soul.

Wowzers.

Now, I’d never been in such close proximity to a Lynx.  Yes, I’d seen them a couple of times off the highway headed up into the Yukon, but I had no idea what to do during an encounter.  Bears were the prime concern in these parts.  I did immediately call the dogs to my side, as there was only about 20-25 feet between us and the Lynx. 

It was one of those moments: when time slowed down & every second was exponentially extended.

We shared a transfixing gaze, and I wasn’t afraid.  I didn’t want my pups to get involved of course, but I didn’t fear for my safety.  Instead, it felt poignant and sacred. Mesmerizing.

Casually, the Lynx stood and padded softly through our yard-forest and up the hill and across the road, slowing a car down on the way.  Lynx weren’t known to be so visible, nor so close to town. 

Lynx paw prints.

It truly was a magic moment in my life, and I headed to pick up the kiddos with a tale to tell.

There were no errands to run, so we made it back home about 15 minutes after the first sighting.  When we got out of the truck, the cacophony of Stellar Jay’s in the backyard garden was unmistakable in its intensity.  They lived in the trees around us and I’d gotten used to their calls.

Something. Was. Amiss.

And sure enough, the Lynx had returned to my homestead and was near the garden shed, this time lying down and looking up at the Jays who were pointing him out so clearly.  Again, I didn’t feel fear, but wisely kept some distance between us.  The kids got a glimpse too, and I grabbed my phone and took a few poor-quality videos, as once again, the Lynx slowly rose and padded off on his soft and fluffy feet.

Oh my, two times!! 

This was wild, this was magical, this was something…

That evening I had a call with The Wonder Sessions, a group course I was participating in.  I was sitting in my office, which had a big picture window with a view to the backyard garden and forest.  Halfway through the call, I caught movement from the corner of my eye...and I kid you not, there was the Lynx!  Returning for a third time!

It saw me.  It sat down. 

And it stared at me for about a minute…and all I could hear was, there’s a message here…this Lynx was trying to communicate something.  It wasn’t after devouring the chickens I don’t think.  There was ample space between the house and coop and it wasn’t seeking them out. 

It felt like this wild cat was seeking out me in particular.  But for what purpose?  I was utterly perplexed.  And honored.

I waited a bit before taking a couple pictures with my phone, but the movement made the Lynx stand up and mosey on down to the other side of the house.  I followed and went to the deck and watched the Lynx lay down below a giant Spruce tree before the barking dogs inside the house were too much and it moved on…

It was genuinely one of the oddest and most wondrous experiences with a wild animal I had encountered.  And the thought of there’s a message here kept coming through.  I found the following in a book called Animal Speak, by Ted Andrews:

“The lynx has acquired the reputation for supernatural eyesight.  It has been attributed with the ability to see error, falsehood, secrets and all that is hidden.  Trust your instincts in believing others.  The things you imagine are probably more accurate than you think.  No matter how strange and how irrational the imagining, it probably has a core of truth…In many ways the lynx medicine is like X-ray vision.  You are able to see the inner workings.”

At that point I hadn’t heard much of the forecasting news speaking about this terrible virus that was in China.  I was living my life, planning for Jewell Gardens and interviewing potential new hires, making dinners and walking the dogs. 

That day was foretelling of what was to come—of what to be mindful of. 

The message I received was: PAY ATTENTION.

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