Everybody likes wild burros and so do I. But they represent something more than cuteness. Only a tough and admirable creature could make a living in such a gawd-forsaken place. Maybe it isn't so far down to the Colorado River for water, but what is there to eat around here. Rubble? Try to imagine their lives. Every bit of effort you make in that direction pulls you one step above the average tourist.
And yet, ironically, these noble creatures work the tourist trade shamelessly.
They virtually block traffic on the highway, and won't let you pass until you have "paid up." The smartest ones are the mothers who bring their offspring into town and charm the socks off the Japanese tourists. It's a living.
But what is going through the burro's mind? Are they degraded and humiliated? Surely they must look off into the distance, and pine for something better, like Ferdinand the Duck in the movie, "Babe:"
"...it eats away at the soul. There must be kinder dispositions in far-off, gentler lands..."
Struggling to escape his disappointing milieu, he can faintly reach out to a greater possibility.
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