I watch as he touches her, feel the electricity of whatever it is he is doing that makes her stare at him, brings a softness into her eyes and her tone of voice and her body language. No biting now, no teeth on flesh followed by a trickle of red. Curious. But barely. There are much more interesting things than the dynamic between the two of them. Like the large beetle crawling across the ground nearby. Six limbs to my four, wings and antennae and a shiny blue carapace. It slowly makes its way closer and I lower my head to examine it from a different angle. The blue is shimmery, its color changing slightly as I shift my head.
I am raising one small hoof to crush it and see what's inside when he calls to me. “Come Tycho.” I narrow my eyes at the beetle, breathing out a silent snort. Next time, shiny blue bug. Next time, I will examine your insides. I glance at my mother long enough to see her slightly dazed nod, but it's directed at him. Tilting my head, I think back, trying to catch up on what I missed. Quiet, physical contact, there was a sneeze that was his, he'd summoned me, and then ah, yes, good. An inquiry as to her state. Well enough.
I walk over to him, practicing the muscle movements, noting the amount of propulsion require to achieve the desired rate of speed, focused enough inward that it is not until I am next to him that I notice the purpose for his summons. Oh. Oh this is much better than the beetle. Excellent. I get as close to the skinned rabbit as I can manage, filing away the information on the muscle groups, how they function, what effect the contraction of each has—much like with learning to walk, the muscles work together to accomplish tasks, and each has a specific effect. Contract this and the head raises; this one makes the ear rotate; that one causes the leg to raise, each of those working together in a particular order causes the motions associated with taking a step. Fascinating.
Oh, and the lesson goes on! Through the most intricate details of anatomy and physiology, into the function of organs, the structure of the nervous system, everything I could have wished to know about the body's mechanics and processes. And I don't just listen. I explore the rabbit, nosing at the viscera, examining how its parts fit together and coordinate, how delightful! I'm rather messy by the time the rabbit lesson wraps up, but that is what grooming is for, and can be dealt with later. Because he immediately presents me with an even better lesson: his own internal structure, or at least the musculature. I stare, a grin stretching muscles in my blood-covered face I don't think I have used before, and immediately begin to review the rabbit lesson and relate it into the equine body, nosing at his exposed muscles as I recall what each of them did, moving my own body to correspond with the muscle groups I contact.
I pull back and grin up at him, delighted in his choice of subject. Then I nose at where his wound was, where blood trickled down his skin when he still wore it. I lick the surface of the muscle in lieu of lapping up the blood. Enough data has been gathered. Mine, indeed. Excellent. I do hope there will be more such lessons forthcoming. It would have taken me far longer to learn this much on my own.
I am raising one small hoof to crush it and see what's inside when he calls to me. “Come Tycho.” I narrow my eyes at the beetle, breathing out a silent snort. Next time, shiny blue bug. Next time, I will examine your insides. I glance at my mother long enough to see her slightly dazed nod, but it's directed at him. Tilting my head, I think back, trying to catch up on what I missed. Quiet, physical contact, there was a sneeze that was his, he'd summoned me, and then ah, yes, good. An inquiry as to her state. Well enough.
I walk over to him, practicing the muscle movements, noting the amount of propulsion require to achieve the desired rate of speed, focused enough inward that it is not until I am next to him that I notice the purpose for his summons. Oh. Oh this is much better than the beetle. Excellent. I get as close to the skinned rabbit as I can manage, filing away the information on the muscle groups, how they function, what effect the contraction of each has—much like with learning to walk, the muscles work together to accomplish tasks, and each has a specific effect. Contract this and the head raises; this one makes the ear rotate; that one causes the leg to raise, each of those working together in a particular order causes the motions associated with taking a step. Fascinating.
Oh, and the lesson goes on! Through the most intricate details of anatomy and physiology, into the function of organs, the structure of the nervous system, everything I could have wished to know about the body's mechanics and processes. And I don't just listen. I explore the rabbit, nosing at the viscera, examining how its parts fit together and coordinate, how delightful! I'm rather messy by the time the rabbit lesson wraps up, but that is what grooming is for, and can be dealt with later. Because he immediately presents me with an even better lesson: his own internal structure, or at least the musculature. I stare, a grin stretching muscles in my blood-covered face I don't think I have used before, and immediately begin to review the rabbit lesson and relate it into the equine body, nosing at his exposed muscles as I recall what each of them did, moving my own body to correspond with the muscle groups I contact.
I pull back and grin up at him, delighted in his choice of subject. Then I nose at where his wound was, where blood trickled down his skin when he still wore it. I lick the surface of the muscle in lieu of lapping up the blood. Enough data has been gathered. Mine, indeed. Excellent. I do hope there will be more such lessons forthcoming. It would have taken me far longer to learn this much on my own.