Nature's system is to have predators and prey. Shortly after we adopted Leaf from an animal shelter, he became the unwitting catalyst for demonstrating the circle of life.

During his first spring with us, as usual, the crows returned to our neighborhood. We hadn't thought to talk to Leaf about how the enormous black birds might view a small family member as food.

One morning, we let Leaf out in the backyard to take care of his bodily needs. Linda suddenly had an inner nudge to check on him. She stood on the back deck, watching Leaf sniff and enjoy spring dew on green grass.

Then she noticed a huge crow, the size of a hawk, perched on a high branch of a tree overlooking the yard. The crow focused silently and ominously on Leaf. With his piercing caws he seemed to be saying, "Breakfast!"

Linda immediately called to Leaf and brought him back in the house. Our little guy remained oblivious to the fact that he might have been tempting a predator with his petite body. So as good "pet parents," we had to sit down to have a talk with him about the facts of life in a neighborhood with hungry and sometimes, viscous crows.

This was especially important because we had made enemies with the backyard crow who considered our property to be his personal hunting ground. One day the previous spring, we drove into the driveway and found a baby rabbit in the alleyway. This crow was hovering near the rabbit. We figured that he had already eaten the baby's brothers and sisters for lunch.

Instead of letting the bird continue his carnage, Allen scooped up the rabbit. We took him inside to administer a quick first-aid. Hurriedly we covered him with a warm blanket since he appeared to be in shock.

After the baby got friskier we fed him lettuce and water. Then we set up a space for him under our deck, which had fencing around it. He would be safe there until he recovered.

The rabbit stayed under the deck for several days. We continued to feed him and provide water. After he regained his strength he left to fend for himself. Over the course of that spring and summer, we continued to see him in the yard on occasion.

The crow from whom we had snatched this baby was not magnanimous about our interference in his circle of life. Every time he perched in the tall oak tree in our backyard, he glared at us as we walked out of the house.

The spring that Leaf entered what the crow considered to be his territory, this bird seemed to be saying, "You took something I wanted. I'll take something you want." But after our parental admonitions, Leaf became more aware of his surroundings. Before venturing into the backyard, he stood at the top of the steps on the deck and surveyed the sky and tree branches.

After he was certain there were no crows around, he enjoyed his outing. We were pleased to see that our little dog was such a quick study in the ways of a world where danger lurks in unexpected places.

Since we're on the subject of birds, we'd like to close this article about the connections between humans, animal companions, and animals in nature with a story that Karen Whitley sent to us for the "Angel Animals Story of the Week." Karen has worked for World Parrot Trust for the last ten years and lives in Cornwall, United Kingdom.

In the back alley near my home, when the weather was very cold and wet here in the United Kingdom, I saw a white pigeon wedged between two wheelie bins. He looked very muddy and wet.

I realized I could not help the little thing get onto a roof out of danger since there are no trees in my area, just three-story granite housing and concrete yards. I also didn't wish to disturb him.

Although the white pigeon looked cold, scruffy, and wet, he did not seem to be hurt or distressed. I was concerned about the many cats around and the terrible weather we were having. So I made a makeshift shelter with some bits of cardboard - far enough away that I didn't disturb or stress the pigeon.

He watched me and blinked a few times. As is my want, and the habit of many other animal careers I know, I gently spoke to the pigeon, explaining what I was doing while I was doing it. I had a look-out several times that night to check that he was okay. The next morning, the white pigeon was gone.

Several days later, while I was watching the television, I saw a flutter of white passing across our second-floor window. It caught my attention enough that I got up to have a look.

Lo and behold, an extremely pristine and beautiful white pigeon was displaying himself on our extension roof. His head bobbed to look at me. He put his wings out and turned all the way round. I've never seen such behavior before and certainly not on our roof, which mostly gets visited by seagulls, if anything. The white pigeon then flew to the roof above where I had first seen the bedraggled pigeon.

Then another white pigeon flew in and joined him. They had a lovely little reunion ceremony, which was truly delightful to watch. After a few moments, they both flew off.

This incredibly rare moment for me may well have been an imagined connection, but I was very happy, indeed, to pretend I had witnessed the recovery of the pigeon I had rescued and a reunion with his mate or friend.

I felt an overwhelming sense of thanks and privilege for a little bird showing himself to me in such a way. Just that, in itself, was a moment I will take to my grave, but another rare occurrence this morning has me thinking what a wonderful world we share with animals.

When have animals shown you ways to renew your spiritual connection with nature and the environment? Allow them to remind you that although our bodies have various capabilties - walking, running, flying, swimming, climbing, hopping, or slithering - we are souls that equally inhabit Planet Earth.