I wonder what it feels like to be an animal.
I wonder what it’s like to be a squirrel--to love heights, the view from way up there, to fear the ground.
I wonder what it’s like to be a whale and to want to free yourself from the water for a glorious few seconds to breach.
I wonder what it’s like to be a sea turtle to travel three thousand miles to crawl up on the shore for a few minutes for a reason you don’t understand since you can’t possibly knew that you’re pregnant or even what that concept means. What pull do they feel to the shore? What push do they feel from the water and from their body?
I wonder what it’s like to be a cat and to love the thrill of the hunt.
I wonder what it’s like to be a beaver and to really, really enjoy gnawing, hording, piling, packing, building.
Or a bird building a nest for that matter. What do they feel!? What about sitting on an egg?
What about defending a territory or fighting rival mates?
I wonder what it’s like to be a migratory robin, albatross, tuna, sea turtle, wildebeest, prong horn, caribou or any other migratory animal and really feel a desire to move in a certain direction, toward a certain star formation, a certain azimuth of the sun, toward a certain polarity of the Earth. Is it a sense of hope? Is it a memory? Is it a wanderlust boredom?
Do predators that must have an enormous amount of patience waiting for prey to come close play mental games? Is what they’re looking at seem incredibly interesting? How do they prevent boredom? Are they thinking about nothing or a profusion of thought?
What’s it like to be a bird and really want to preform a mating ritual? Just gotta dance? Performance anxiety? Preoccupation to please? Just gotta sing?
What about a penguin that needs to huddle together to stay warm? Do you just feel so much better together? Is it just about the warmth?
Do meerkats feel a paranoia?
What about a reptile that needs to sun itself? Does the heat feel like a mind blowing ecstasy or a warm peaceful comfort?