i haven’t ever gotten to know a donkey. We, the trio of which i lately enjoyed being part, called them burros because it’s a cute word. i like to practice rolling my r’s.

The other day i went for a walk near a lake somebody named Havasu. There i startled some wee bunnies, and then a roadrunner. It was early in the day and the thicket i found was full of excitable blackbirds, chattering and singing away while everyone did their morning foraging. The roadrunner flew to a tree and perched a while. It didn’t mind me less than ten feet away, staring to memorize this animal i’d not seen before. Roadrunners do indeed have a fun tuft of something on their head that does a little up and down sometimes. We both rested there a while, near each other. Things like this happen for me a lot, especially this trip. i feel lucky that in a time of difficult human socializing, i can still make friends with animals. If you ever feel like it, please ask me about the ravens in Bryce Canyon. We had whole conversations.

Among the nomads i felt no less an observer—no less respectful, grateful, or endeavoring to leave no trace. Emancipated humans are gorgeous creatures, common but rarely observed. They are not altogether unpredictable, nor are they prone to reckless or foolish behavior. Free people are organized by intention, choosing community or not as they please, all the while unapologetically their own unique selves. Unfettered by worldly nonsense one can truly let go—free range humans laugh all the time, and pass judgement so infrequently that one among them could forget the habit.

i use the same skills of communication for all creatures to whom i’d like to offer good will, or companionship, if at a distance, if only for a time. Ravens will get well within six feet, but these days that’s more rare among strangers. Living in Taiwan i learned to give a tiny bow to demonstrate appreciation and respect. i have, gratefully, not let go of this habit. If you spend time with me you can notice minute bows surprisingly often, as i subconsciously entreat my audience. i do much more dramatic bows once in a while with humans, but always with big horned sheep, buffalo, deer… Hoofed creatures seem to genuinely understand the moment when i meet their eyes, close mine slowly, and lower my face away from theirs. i can watch their bodies relax and sometimes even notice a softer gaze. Wary eyes become calmer, often as the animal turns their back to me, which really feels like a compliment: i am so harmless as to have become wholly unimportant. i learned to bow to animals in Taiwan as well, when a startled monkey mama took a definitive stance, so Dave whispered that we should look away from her and the babies. i bowed then, and the rustle of leaves told us of their retreat, a close call.

People who live beyond the constraints of society organize themselves with natural grace. A former manager of fellow workers might wonder where their schedule is, so easily is each meal created and offered. There is little to no talk of money; each member of a group is simply expected to do what they are able. As a person on the outside, i made myself available to help however i could. i also made a lot of my own meals, but was welcomed to share in many of the group’s as well. i never saw these people deny anyone, among them or who had wandered in, anything. Things wanted fixing and somebody fixed them. Needs were met so that enjoyment could be prioritized. If there had been rules among this camp, mutual aid was number one.

Today i saw a skunk! It ran across the road in front of me and I cheered because there was plenty of distance. That little rascal made it well in time. i told him not to spray me as I drove by.

i also made friends with some turkeys. I told them it was safe to cross the path and they believed me. If i turned to face the Drake, he would fluff up his feathers really quickly but not fully. i would bow, and i would concentrate on not being a threat to him. i would picture us being being peaceful and send it to him. He would put his feathers down and turn away from me. This happened thrice. Each time i convince an animal that i’m friendly, it feels like a huge accomplishment. It also always feels like a lesson about people.

Have you ever greeted a donkey and then laughed for any reason? Eeyore was no exaggeration—burros will lower their heads and back up as if embarrassed. i met several sweet burro friends in Arizona, only to find myself apologizing to half of them for my startling laugh. Those were town donkeys, wandering in for food from tourists. It took a day or two but i finally spotted the donkeys we’d been hearing from the hills near our camp. They had a horse friend among their little tribe.

We are all animals. We all organize naturally to take care of each other, given the right conditions. The freedom of anarchism is beautiful and possible and for me now more a faith than ever before. Humility in greeting strangers is a major priority as well. If i bow to you now, it is as a free creature. Listen closely on a quiet night for my song coming from the wilderness.