I too believe that some animal encounters are "visits" or spirit messages.
Like Ocean, I live in Toronto, and very close to the Don Valley, and spend much time wandering, exploring there. On several occasions have seen people fishing in the river, yikes! If you know that part of the Don, just below the Parkway/highway, it reeks of soap. I guess the fish are immune to detergent by now?! Still, I've seen many fish there, big and small, and some jumping up the small waterfall on one stretch, the same spot where I've seen people fishing.
And there's another place, near Taylor Creek park, where an old friend of mine had an animal "visit". My stepfather Edgar had died a few days before, my friend F had known him well, and they liked each other a lot. One of the best things about Edgar was his silliness, his humour and playfulness. That is what I and others miss most about him. So there was F, sitting alone on a rock not another soul in sight, in his favourite meditative place in the valley off the beaten path, thinking, grieving, feeling very sad; his head was down in his hands and he was crying like a baby, on this hot, sunny, cloudless afternoon. Suddenly he felt water sprinkling on him like raindrops. He lifted his head and stopped, right in front of him about a foot away in a tiny puddle was a baby owl, splashing water all about, looking straight at him, and seemingly flicking water at him on purpose. Staring at the owl chick, he wondered where its mother was. The bird kept flicking water in his direction, hopping about, clearly enjoying itself, and making cheerful noises. It was so strange and so funny that F started laughing. Then the bird flew upwards and disappeared among the trees. F got up smiling, and said "thanks Edgar." His sadness lifted, he immediately came over to my house to tell me about it.
Same week, my son returned from the corner store, sprinting into the house, happier than I'd seen him in days. The door to this store was propped open, like it often was on hot days. K stepped inside the doorway, in the middle of a noisy, little drama. A tiny bird (sparrow or starling?) was flying wildly about, shrieking, and several men were trying to catch it, or wave it outside. K stopped in his tracks, taking in the scene, suddenly the bird turned, flew towards him and set down at his feet, looking up at him. K bent down to get a closer look at the bird. It held his gaze for a few seconds, cheeped, then flew up and past him, out the door. He said "ha ha Edgar", and ran home to tell me about it.
A few days later, a lady bug landed on my arm while I was sitting outside alone, feeling down, missing Edgar. Instantly I felt better, and much more at peace with his passing. A couple of days before Edgar died, I went to see him at the hospital and though he was very ill, I did not know he was going to die. He'd been very sick for years and had recovered before. And as weak as he looked, I did not believe that this was it. I had no idea that this was the last time I'd speak to him. Each time I visited him, I'd bring something. That day I brought a little wooden box that had a floating lady bug in it. On the lid were the words "I love you." He and I were very close, I'd known and loved him for 26 years, but I don't remember ever telling him that I loved him, or vice versa. We just knew, I guess, but we never said it. So the ladybug's "words" spoke for me that day. And when he died on Tuesday I went into shock, cuz I really did not know he was dying, and I also had not said "goodbye" to him. I kept feeling stupid and guilty for that. But when that ladybug came to visit, I knew that it was okay, that Edgar knew I loved him as much as he loved me, and that he was returning to say "goodbye". And everywhere I went for the rest of that summer, and into fall, I saw ladybugs, one or two, or swarms of them. That too was very unusual because I hadn't seen them in years. And now whenever I see them, I think of Edgar and I smile, or laugh.
