The ox knoweth his owner,
and the ass his master's crib.
The burro raises his head skyward without, however, raising his somnolent, lids, his nostrils curl till his teeth show, and from his tautly opened mouth comes a long-drawn-out cry, a wild "Yah!" like the wail of a banshee, followed by three loud raspings and expiring in a series of wheezy throatings. Which done, the burro at once relapses into his former immobility. One takes the liberty to observe that the burro's voice is neither one of pain nor of poetry; it is one of exultation mixed with patronizing ridicule. A burro stands; he considers; he philosophizes; he attains nirvana.
Driving with donkeys evokes images of humble carts and primitive travois, and, once again, the lowly beast of burden is effaced before the finery of his more majestic cousin the horse. However, while it may take months or years of training a horse to harness and cart before the animal is considered reliable, a donkey gives the impression of having come into the world ready to drive. Most are more comfortable in harness than under saddle, and their willingness to cooperate is matched by their intelligent grasp of what is needed.
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