Many stories are told of the love of St. Waltheof, Abbot of Melrose, for animals, and, in particular, of his affection for the old gray horse which he constantly rode, and used playfully to call Brother Grizzle (Frater Ferrandus). He was even known to discipline himself for having killed an insect, saying he had taken away the life of one of God's creatures which he could not restore. His gray horse was well known in the valley of the Tweed. The humble abbot rode him, with his own luggage and that of his few attendants slung on before him, including the boots of his groom. He appeared before his kinsman, the King of Scotland, in this array. Waltheof's brother was ashamed of him, but the king was so edified that he knelt to ask the abbot's blessing, and granted him all his petitions, saying: "This man hath put all worldly things under his feet, but we are running after this fleeting world, losing soul and body in the pursuit."
Sophronius, writing in a more remote age, says: "Going to New Alexandria, we found Abbot John, who had spent eighty years in that monastery, so full of charity that he was pitiful also to brute animals. Early in the morning he used to give food to all the dogs that were in the monastery, and would even bring grain to the ants and the birds on the roof."
And, at a later day again, at Citeaux a great number of storks built their nests around the abbey, and, on going away for the winter, would hover over the monks working in the fields, as if to ask their blessing, which was given them.
We are told in the annals of Corby that the novices had an otter which they kept for a long time in the refectory. And the success of Friar Baddo in training a dog is spoken of.
There was a peculiar breed of black dogs in the Abbey of St. Hubert in the Ardennes, called the dogs of St. Hubert.
The birds of Croyland would feed from the hands of St. Guthlac, the hermit, and alight on his head and shoulders, and the fish would come up out of the water for the food he gave them.
So a white swan was for fifteen years in the habit of coming up from the marshes and flying around St. Hugh of Lincoln, and then alighting to eat from his hand, sometimes thrusting its bill into his bosom. This swan survived the saint many years, but, after his death, returned to its old wild habits, avoiding all human beings.
St. Columba used to feed the sea-beaten herons that alighted on the island of Iona.
The sparrows would descend and eat out of St. Remi's hand.
And the birds would hover around the hermits of Montserrat and eat from their hands.