Hyper-empathy Towards Animals (Personal Post)

Two of my greatest highlights from 2023 have been getting fun wildlife shots in our neighborhood and receiving an adult autism diagnosis. I recently researched that there’s actually a correlation between these two things!

A lesser-known autism symptom is hyper-empathy towards animals. With this symptom, we feel deeply for animals of all kinds, domestic and wild. I can think of a few prominent times when I felt an unusually high level of empathy for a furry friend.

Maggie

Saying goodbye to our family pets has always been particularly painful for me. Now that I know I’m autistic, I have a deeper understanding of the bonds I had with them.

In terms of hyper-empathy, I think I expressed this the most with Maggie, the Sass Queen of our family who passed away in 2019. She was “sweet and spicy,” in a manner of speaking. While she could be pretty aloof at times, Maggie also showed an endearingly soft side.

During our time together, Maggie showed me that while she was usually okay with being petted, she thoroughly loved “holding hands” instead. She would often direct my hand off her so she could press her paw against it. I may or may not have been the only person who had this interesting interaction with Maggie.

This cute quirk shone through during her final moments in the pet clinic. When I tried to pet her, she meowed harshly. Then, I gently put my hand on her paw, and Maggie went still as she recognized what I was trying to say. She got up and laid down on my hand, likely seeing it as a source of comfort/assurance.

Conversely, my time with Maggie allowed her personality to rub off on me. Maggie was outspoken and rarely hesitated to “speak” with disdain if something rubbed her the wrong way. I’ve always feared confrontation, but spending time with her encouraged me to be more direct.

Thank you, Maggie McKee.

The Does

Another gentle instance of hyper-empathy happened in the summer of 2023, the night before we went to Hilton Head. That night’s sunset was beautiful, and two does were walking in the neighborhood. They saw me on the main sidewalk, looking at the sky and enjoying the soft purple hue the fading light cast over everything.

They shyly stood some feet away. I moved a bit too fast, causing them to flinch, and I silently apologized with slow head nodding. The does understood my meekness, and one of them became so enamored with me that she followed me for a while as I walked in the opposite direction.

Now that I think about it, there’s a good chance that the extra-curious doe was the same one I’d interacted with a week prior.

This doe was munching on some leaves while I was walking to work. I didn’t want to bother her, so I crossed the street safely. I got a great picture of her looking at me!

A month later, during a walk home from the grocery store, two fawns came bounding to the forest’s edge when they heard my footsteps. They were most likely part of the group of fawns I’d seen in our neighborhood park on July 4th. The way they looked at me was incredibly endearing and almost expecting.

I was so nervous; I thought for a good minute that they wanted me to lead them safely across the street because they recognized me from before. I had to make myself walk away and remind myself that their mama would come back for them. And, of course, she did!

After writing down all of these “dear” deer moments, I remembered a dream I had back in 2019. In this dream, I felt guilt after a mountain lion I’d defended myself against went and killed a doe, leaving her fawn unharmed next to her corpse. I was wracked with guilt and rushed to her side, apologizing and weeping.

In response, the fawn placed her hoof on my head, and I still remember physically feeling it. Without speaking a word, I knew she was telling me to forgive myself. This dream likely influenced my ongoing affection towards the deer in our neighborhood.

Other Examples

Oh, boy. I also remember a sunny day in the spring of 2023 when I took the back entrance into our neighborhood woodland. On the footpath, I encountered a mother Mallard duck escorting her ducklings across the path.

She was startled to see me, and I froze up, not wanting to step forward and scare her further. We waited for the other to move for several long seconds. Finally, she took the plunge and continued to walk her ducklings into the trees.

I hate making wildlife move for my sake; it’s been that way for a while. In January 2022, I went the extra mile to respect the flock of robins enjoying the fallen berries outside our apartment. I walked around them so they wouldn’t be startled and fly away.

They took notice of that.

Because they recognized my intentions, the robins let me get relatively close for these pics, especially the one on the left. It was especially sweet that these were taken around my birthday.

I’ve also lost (mostly) my fear of spiders. I know that they’re not inherently evil, nor are they bent on hurting people. They also make great natural pest control for flies and mosquitoes!

Empathy Rewards

My ongoing efforts to respect the wildlife in our neighborhood have rewarded me with odd but lovely encounters.

A prime example is my cute meeting with two Zabulon Skipper butterflies in September 2023. On a sunny day, I went out, walking across our backyard, when the butterflies suddenly flew and perched on my brown shoe. They let me get incredibly close with my phone’s camera for this photo, which still surprises me.

I can only assume that they deemed me trustworthy enough to designate my shoe as an acceptable landing spot. Hey, I’ll take it!

And then there’s this extra-curious robin from May 2023. He must’ve been one of the robins I’d interacted with multiple times because when he saw me walking, he decided to “meet me halfway.” While I stood still and watched, he kept scooting closer and closer until we were just some feet away.

All with this adorable, tilted look of his!

I’m curious to see what other unique animal interactions I’ll have next, now that I know about my autistic empathy for them.

All images by Connor Brennan