What Were You Thinking?

Sometimes (most of the time) I wish I had Dr. Doolittle's capability to talk to the animals.  Well, I do talk to them, but they don't talk back in a way I can understand and I wish I could.  Bess likes to lie on the deck with her head resting on the lower rail and just stare off into space.  Is she watching birds, the horses next door, what?  If she's daydreaming, what about?  The other morning she stopped for a drink from the wild things' water and would lift her head and just stand there woolgathering before taking another sip, or, in her case, slurp.  It wasn't that she'd heard something; she doesn't hear much if anything anymore.  I "talk" to her now using hand signals and touch.

I understand Ralph's rough-and-tumble play with toys.  He stalks and pounces while playing "lion in the wild."  But what is Celeste thinking when she carries piglets back and forth in the hall, crooning all the while?  She's never had kittens.  It might be some instinctual thing, but cats I've had in the past who have had a litter have never sung to the babies like she does.

I'd like to know what the girls are thinking when they sometimes get so crabby with each other.  What did the other one say or do?  I tell them to play nice, but they either don't mind or don't care.  They certainly don't understand.  Nobody can give you a blank stare like a goat.

What do chickens gossip about?  Do they have best friends and share secrets, and what might those secrets be?  Are they jealous because Stanley shares his affection?  How is the pecking order determined?

Inquiring minds want to know.