Animals have a sixth sense about artist Beth Surdut. They offer her stories, and she happily shares what she's learned — through art, writing or simply caring comfort.

"I believe that when an animal rubs up against me, he's looking for the Braille that says 'sucker,' " Surdut said. "Mine is extremely readable."

Since moving to Santa Fe this summer, Surdut, a designer and colorist who mainly works in fiber and creating "wearable arts," has befriended ravens. But the connection goes back to her first visit to the area, which — true to the cliché — enchanted her and, as in many of her adventures, became its own story: "The city is wonderful, but what I live for is being out in nature," she said. "There are so many different layers of microclimate here, of color palettes and stories. When I went back to Florida, all I could think about was ravens, and I decided I really needed to be here."

Once she made a decision to start drawing birds, they wouldn't leave her alone. Back in Florida, a crow visited her almost every day. If the bird didn't see her on the front porch, she'd hear a rat-ta-tat-tat on her back tin roof. It was a noisy invitation.

"So I'd come out, and all he wanted to do was make eye contact," she said. "I wasn't feeding him, and he wasn't welcomed by other birds."

When she settled in Santa Fe, a raven found her. He'd sit on the roof and yak until she came out for a visit, Surdut said. "It was sort of like, 'I know you're in there — come out.' "

The experience has become a series of pen-and-ink drawings of ravens, something that Surdut hopes eventually to exhibit. For now, she's "getting to know the bird" through her art and research.

Surdut, whose work on silk with fiber-reactive dyes creates magical images, began her artistic career in designing stained glass. She's created stained-glass art for private and public places, with her largest project being 24 windows for a palace in Saudi Arabia.

Working with fiber was a fluke, she said. She came upon hand-painted silk at a high-end crafts market in the Washington, D.C., area where she was living at the time and thought the technique was appealing. Later, a friend pointed out a flier about a class on the art. She took it.

Quickly afterward, her work was featured in The Washington Post and within 1 1/2 years, her wearable art was shown at the Smithsonian Institution's Renwick Gallery.

The technique makes the art become a part of the fabric and creates a wonderful glow. Each piece is unique, no matter how many times she might try for the same effect. She's painted motifs on clothes of all kinds, including shirts, scarves and shawls.

A self-described nomad, Surdut spent much of her life in the Washington area, where she went to college. But she also called Massachusetts and Hawaii home. She lived in Florida for three years, where feral cats rule neighborhoods.

Surdut's work there became a prominent image for the Sarasota Defense of Animals Catwalk. The image, Cats for the Mind, is something she'd like to offer other animal-welfare groups, where a percentage of the sales can be used as a fundraiser.

The image, she said, could easily be transferred to objects other than a T-shirt, such as a canvas bag. And she's open to creating new artwork featuring other animals for other groups.

Cats for the Mind, as is much of her artwork, was inspired by her connection with animals. And like many of Surdut's projects, it naturally comes with a story: Mr. Stinky.

The gray cat with jade-green eyes roamed her Florida neighborhood and befriended her as her own two elderly cats were dying of cancer. Every evening around midnight, the cat would sit outside her house and yell, Surdut said.

The day after she had to put her elder cat, Cat Man, down, Mr. Stinky walked into her house, got onto bed, jumped on her chest and said: "I'm right here, baby."

The cat was dubbed Mr. Stinky because he was long-haired cat with a spraying issue. Surdut took him in to be fixed, but the veterinarian warned he would continue to spray, although the smell wouldn't be as intense. The cat became a part of the household but kept his feral ways, always eating elsewhere.

"I really thought he was one of my old, bad boyfriends, dressed up in a cat suit," Surdut said. "He'd come in, rub up against me and tell me he loved me, then he would go across the street."

The day she learned her other elder cat, Nash, had cancer, another feral kitten came into her life. Lucinda the Wild Princess loved other cats but never really bonded with humans, she said. She immediately took to Mr. Stinky, although the feeling wasn't immediately mutual.

Surdut was forced to leave both cats in Florida after finding suitable homes for them. And for the first time in her life, she's without companion animals, except for those she conjures up through memory, art and story.

"I've never done animal portraits," Surdut said. "My idea about animals is not just about how cool they are. It's us loving them up."

Those interested in contacting Surdut about collaborating on an animal-welfare fundraiser or learning more about her work can reach her by e-mail at info@bethsurdut.com or visit her Web site at www.bethsurdut.com.