I consider myself a lay scholar on fear; I was in therapy for more than 30 years trying to deal with my generalized anxiety, which was crippling and destructive so often in my life.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve grown calmer and wiser, some of those genes appear to have worn off, and others are simply more mature and experienced. I’ve learned a lot about how to manage fear rather than succumb to it.

I’m reading a fascinating book – The Nature Of Fear: Survival Lessons Of the Wild, by Professor Daniel T. Blumstein, an ecologist and evolutionary biologist at the University of California, Los Angeles, he directs the Evolutionary Medicine Program there.

Blumstein is also an elected Fellow of the Animal Behavior Society and has spent many years researching how animals deal with fear and what people can learn from. For more than thirty years, he has been studying the fear responses of animals.

He’s found that there is a lot for us to learn from them.

In my own life on the farm, I’ve also gotten to see the different ways in which animals deal with danger and fear, and I can say I’ve learned a great deal from them – the dogs, donkeys, and sheep (even the chickens).

“…the most essential and fundamental challenge of life is to strike a balance between taking risks and staying safe,” writes  Blumstein. “We’ve learned why animals are appropriately cautious and why we should be too. But this ancient existential balance requires equal consideration of another stark truth: those who are too cautious with either starve or be outcompeted by those less cautious. Those who are too cautious will not survive.”

I’ve seen many lives damaged or destroyed by fear, and others saved by it.

Prey animals need to be vigilant, and when appropriate, fearful. Humans don’t generally have to worry about getting eaten by coyotes, but there are many human predators in the world – just listen to the news.

The donkeys and sheep – both prey animals –  are constantly scanning the farm’s boundaries and the horizon for signs of predators. Chickens have reason to fear every living thing.

They aren’t the brightest creatures on earth, but they can spot the shadow of a hawk a hundred yards away.

They need to be afraid to survive, but they also need to leave the fear behind to eat, rest, and stay with one another, perhaps their greatest protection. and their greatest vulnerability.

The chickens know which dog too far (Bud) and which dogs to ignore (Zinnia and Fate, who have no interest in them.). The sheep and the donkeys have learned the same thing.

If I have touched another animal – a cow or horse, the donkeys will run from me. They fear I’ve suddenly become a predator, and no matter how long they know me, their instinct is to get away quickly.

My dogs rarely show fear, although I see their ears go down if I am angry, and they get still. If a donkey’s ears go down, the dogs will show fear (their ears go down) and they will run out of the way.

Blumstein argues that people, like animals, need to sense danger and also to leave fear behind in order to lead normal and productive lives.

We humans need to know and decide what to fear and what not to fear, and there are many more things for us to fear than for most of our animals.

Some of this response to fear in both animals and humans is biological, some are learned, some the product of natural selection.

To be healthy and functional, we need to integrate the instinct and the intellectual, just like animals do by instinct.

What should we fear, and how can we make informed risk assessments about these fearful triggers?

Unlike animals, we can make calculations based on data and observation. If lots of deer cross a familiar road and know it, we can reduce the risk of driving fast and be less fearful. I’ve ordered no-slip mats for the bathtub because I know many older people fall in bathtubs and sometimes even die from those falls.

By buying those mats, I can reduce the risk of my falling and be less fearful. Same with buying my ice-grip shoes. Many people fall on the ice up here, and as I get older, I know those injuries can be more serious.

I can be afraid of falling or taking rational steps to mitigate the risk. Once I’ve done all I can reasonably do, I can be less fearful.

My choice is to consider the danger, contemplate the risk, protect myself if I can, and then let the fear go. I’ve observed nervous sheep who can’t relax and are constantly scouring their environment for danger – from me, the dogs,  or from sounds or animals who are far away.

I noticed that these sheep are often thin, they worry rather than eat or rest, and they don’t live as long as the other sheep, nor is their wool long or rich. They seem much more prone to illness and even death.

Animals do this fear gauging instinctively, they can’t grasp data.

I often see a sheep or donkey stare intently at a bear or coyote far away. At some point, they decided the predator isn’t an immediate risk to them, and they resume grazing or resting, or socializing.

The smart predator will simply wait for them to lose interest and eat. Some animals can’t survive without eating other animals, they have learned how to gauge their target’s fear and hunger wait for them to relax. That’s when the prey’s guard goes down.

Social media is a  fear incubator. Almost everything I wrote about my life, health, or life triggers some fear or warning beyond my immediate world or consciousness.

Be careful of dogs in cars on warm days, be careful about exercise, be careful about medicines, be careful about ice, hay, or the food I’m eating, the tools I’m using, the things I’m drinking, be afraid of politics, animal thieves, foods for the dogs.

If I followed all of these fears and warnings, I couldn’t really live at all, so  I tend to do some homework and make reasoned decisions about what I want to be afraid of and what I don’t.

I don’t consider medical advice offered by strangers online, either for my animals or me. I talk to doctors and vets and follow their recommendations.

If I know social media is a fear spreader and source, I can use it for what I need, not safety advice or the transmission of fear. I notice online that there are many people who need to share or pass along their fear to other people. Fear is infectious.

I keep my distance from transmitters.

That makes me healthier, happier, and more creative, and productive. I honestly believe it will prolong my life.

I’ve done some good work on fear.

I know that much of my fear comes from my ancestors, near and far, both human and nonhuman.  Fear can be an ally and friend or a nightmare and enemy. It is disturbing and annoying and sometimes intolerable and unbearable.

Fear is also a trusted compass; I am always learning to listen to it and make calibrated judgments. Considered properly, it has often been a compass to warn me of real danger, guide me to opportunity, inspired me to set boundaries, and guide me towards a balanced life.

I see every encounter with fear as a lesson in life. Since we are all confronted with risk – there is no way to live without it – our fears can either help us make the right decisions or push us into the wrong ones.

This is work that is never done for me. I make these decisions every day.

“Since we cannot eliminate fear and risk,” writes Professor Blumstein, “We should embrace our fears and challenge them. As Mary Schmich,  a journalist at the Chicago Tribune, wrote in 1997, “Do one thing every day that scares you.”

I do that.

So do our chickens. At least once a day, they see something that worries them – many animals in the world eat chickens – and they will run for cover behind a bush or under a fence.

The rest of the day, they take their chances, pecking for bugs and grass. Sometimes, it’s the wrong choice for them.

Our donkeys Lulu and Fanny, never stop scanning for danger. Yet the donkeys know how to let go and sit down and soak up the sun. They know how to live and relax and graze on fresh hay and grass.

Fear is only one thing they consider, not everything, and not all day.

I learn from them. Balance is everything.

At least once a day, and often more, I do something that scares me, including writing about it fear. It makes me stronger every time.