“Go to Oatman and see the wild burros, but don’t take your dog out of the car or they’ll bite its head and rip its scalp off,” the tourism representative in Laughlin, Nevada told us. How could we pass up something that local and unique? We might never get the chance to meet murder donkeys again, so, with the agreement Ruthie would stay safely in Nippy, off we went.
Oatman, Arizona, 30 miles from our campground in Laughlin, Nevada, has two claims to fame. First, it was the place where Clark Gable and his bride, Carole Lombard, spent their honeymoon night. Second are its wild burros, who wander through the tiny town at will, entering stores, begging tourists for snacks, and weighing up your dog’s potential as their next hearty meal.
There are signs everywhere warning tourists about this penchant for bloodshed, but that didn’t stop some people from walking their tiny canines right down the town’s only street, like sadists waving tasty cakes under the noses of starving insane asylum inmates. And it was clear the burros weren’t shy about partaking, should the opportunity present itself. You could see it in their eyes.
The first burros we met before reaching town were friendly. A mama and her baby gave us passing glances, while their companion had no problem at all coming straight up to the car to see if anything other than raw dog meat was on offer.
The specimens in town were pushy bastards, happy to pose for photos but even happier to kick each other, bite each other, and act in all manner of unsociable ways if they thought it would get them to the front of the line with tourists who were handing out hay pellets the size of a human fist, which could be purchased by the bagful in several of the stores.
With Ruthie and her fuzzy scalp locked securely in the car (with all the windows cracked to let the breeze in and a promise we’d be back in just a few minutes), we headed to the Saloon, which the visitor center lady said was a “must see,” but stopped short of telling us why. “I don’t want to spoil it for you,” she said.
It didn’t help that there were three saloons, and we didn’t know which one she meant. The first one we popped our heads into was quirky, but reasonably so.
The second one, however, was the most outrageous example we’d ever seen of bars that encourage their patrons to staple dollar bills to the walls. This place was literally covered in money; nearly $400K, in total, we were told.
Dollar bills were hanging in their thousands from the rafters, stapled to the doors and the walls, and crammed onto every available surface, not just in the bar, but in what appeared to be four or five rooms, a stairway, and probably upstairs too, though we didn’t make it that far.
The new Mr. and Mrs. Gable’s fame didn’t hold a candle to all that cash, but their names were immortalized on a hand-painted plank nailed above the doorway leading to the hotel rooms, which created an uncomfortable mental image of them climbing the stairs on the way to celebrating their wedding night.
We took some photos, made all the appropriate “Oh, my God” noises, purchased two ice cream cones, and headed back to Ruthie, whose fur was all intact, even if her attitude wasn’t. She hates being left, we hate leaving her, but there are times when it’s for her own good, and we felt virtuous as we enjoyed our cones, congratulating ourselves for having saved her life, even though she’ll never know it.
Veness Travel Media 
Murderous donkeys roaming the Wild West. It sounds like some outrageous dystopian b movie 😅
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That’s what it felt like, too!
Very odd place, but fun.
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