By Shirley Jameson, former owner of the revered donkey

Many people have become familiar with Cuckleburr during his lifetime, and a few folks harbor fond memories of the old burro, but something about that ornery personality may make others wish they had never made his acquaintance. But whatever you may think of him, you’ll have to admit he’s quite unforgettable. Cuckleburr was born somewhere in eastern Colorado in June of 1961 and ended up on the La Jaunta sale block where he was purchased by Earl Mason, who brought him home to grandchildren Ronnie and Dixie Jameson. He was named Cuckleburr after being called “Burr-Burr” by little Dixie. The tiny burro was feed with a sheep nipple on pop bottle that summer and from that point on considered himself a full-fledged human being with all the accompanying rights and privileges. Consequently, he preferred the company of people, and mastered the art of unlatching every type of gate lock which prevented him from joining his buddies.  He eventually advanced to opening the barn door, turning on the light switch and helping himself to all the hay he fancied for a midnight snack. After his meal, he nuzzled the water faucet on, got a few slurps from the sprinkler, and sauntered back out to pasture, leaving the lights and sprinkler on.

Among his vices is a love of tobacco, a pastime shared by Albert Jameson who smoked a pipe and shared his pouch with Cuckleburr. Other items in Cuckleburr’s diet included a bucket of Epsom salt water and one of anti-freeze in the same afternoon. He developed a thing for sharing toast and conversation with George Woodin and Diane Broce, with a stop off to heckle Dick Colvin. We received several phone calls to get him off the front porch of the country store before he helped himself to some Hostess pies. One item that he didn’t like was chili peppers. The only time in his history that he ever came home of his own free will was after being fed a chile pepper at the Resident Manager’s house. He hurried back to the ranch wringing his tail. Other times he had to be lead home, sometimes on the end of a rope behind a pickup. He learned to follow at a quick trot, after suffering hot feet from skidding down the road.

One lady camper will never be the same after finding bear tracks on the window and having Cuckleburr come in the night to twist the doorknob open. You can imagine her fright when she looked through the glass at a hairy shape. Another lady found Cuckleburr’s dental chart imprinted on her posterior after she bent over to help him remove his foot from the fence. Little did she know that a burro will very seldom get himself in any predicament that he can’t get out of. One soil conservationist forgot all about erosion when his person was approached by the beast and he sailed over the fence to escape.

With regard to Cuckleburr’s occupation, he has led a worthless life and could be considered a true reliefer. The only attempt to involve him was a total loss. Whoever thought he’d consider having to pack salt to the summer pasture!!! This endeavor took far more time than taking salt up one block at a time.

After reading an article about a burro over fifty years old found in the Nevada desert, and putting up with his escapades for 14 years, we decided that he was part of the deal when Yellow Pine Ranch was sold to the Evans Family in 1976. He has gone by several names—Homer, Jackass, etc. but he has been forever immortalized by the Evans who have named their new dinner theatre after him—Cuckleburrs’s Cow Palace and Singing Emporium.

From all reports of his behavior he is still the same character and will probably go to his “Donkey Heaven” curling his lip and laughing at the human race.