Over the last few years there have been a lot of people who have claimed to be able to listen to animals and tell you what an animal is thinking. They call themselves “animal whisperers,” or something like that.

I have never watched one of these shows ’cause I just don’t find them entertaining. I would prefer that people would listen to people more than they listen to animals.

It is, in my own personal opinion, that when God set things in order he gave man dominion over all the earth, which includes all animal life. I personally believe he did that because animals live by a pre-programmed instinct instead of reasoning or thinking.

However, I find it very entertaining occasionally to find myself at a place in life where I feel like I am talking to my bull or my donkeys. There was a time ten years or more ago that I used to have quite a few conversations with my bull.

Of course, they are always one sided. Every bull I have had has been a fairly good listener, but they don’t have much response to the conversation except for an occasional snort or deep grunt. About the only thing I understand when talking to my bull is when the conversation is over. He simply turns his back and points his smelly side at me and simply walks away, occasionally leaving nature signs of his thoughts about the conversation.

My donkeys, however, are a different story. Several months ago as I was working along a fence row when “Jack” came running up to the fence and wanted to have a conversation.

It was funny because he actually trotted to the fence and started baying. It was kinda like a dog that is warning you of danger. He seemed to be trying to report to me some misbehavior in the pasture. He acted like a little kid that was being a tattle tale.

On and on, he kept after me until I got on my four-wheeler and went and checked the herd. He seemed satisfied and left me alone. He made a similar gesture a week later. I guess he was just wanting a special hand out of feed.

An event a couple of weeks ago showed me just how much two donkeys love to talk. I arrived at the ranch for my weekly ritual of putting out hay and feed during the wintertime. As usual, all of the animals approached my truck, but “Jack” and “Jenny” kept following me around, trying to nip at my shirttail or pants pockets.

If they ever nip too much, they can inflict pain. I turned around and was about to run them off when they both started baying at me at the same time. I got such a kick out of this that I started my own distorted human sounds of a donkey baying.

This really seemed to tick them off and they got louder and louder and more and more upset at me. Of course, I was laughing my head off but I kept up this insidious noise. They continued to bay and actually got more and more agitated. They seemed down right mad!

It got to a point that Jenny walked a little closer to me and actually blew her nostrils at me, thus giving me a body spray of donkey snot! A few seconds later, Jack actually spit at me and showed pretty good aim at my arms! They both seemed absolutely insulted that I was mocking their conversations and both of them showed what I surmise to be the lowest insult they could give a human!

This whole ordeal went on about three full minutes and when it was over, I was splattered with specks of donkey spit and snot. Fortunately, I had on a long sleeve shirt that day. My throat was now raw from this goofy noise I was making, but inside I was laughing and laughing.

I still find these few moments in life hilarious, but now I am thinking about a new profession.

“Clifford, The Donkey Whisperer.”

Unfortunately, this just doesn’t really ring any bells with me because I don’t think anyone would bring their donkeys to me for therapy. I would probably make as much money doing this as I do raising cattle, which is next to nothing in today’s dry world.

Clifford

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