If I could talk to the animals . . .

Here it is, Christmas, and the legend lives on. I refer to the claim that animals can speak at midnight on Christmas morning, which I have yet to prove or disprove because I’m an “early to bed early to rise” kind of guy who couldn’t stay up until midnight if my life depended on it.

Last night was no exception. For all I know, our dogs, Aquinnah and Martha, or our four cats -- Clara, Annie, Teddy and Leo -- talked up a storm when the new day began. I was in dreamland at that hour, oblivious to any chatter involving the furry set. As for Hope and Nellie, our hens, they were tucked into their coop at the back end of our lot, where I doubt that they uttered so much as a peep. Chickens, the experts say, sleep so soundly that they fall into a trance-like state during the night.

Even if I had jumped from my bed when the clock struck 12, only to find the cats and dogs silent, it would not have disproved the legend. One version of the tale has it that animals only speak at midnight on Christmas if they understand what humans are saying to them. Another variation claims that humans can comprehend the speech of animals at midnight on Christmas, but it is bad luck to eavesdrop on them.

The legend loses its magic if we try to analyze it. Fanciful notions appeal to us precisely because they are whimsical. Fortunately, the imagination exists in a realm that is beyond the reach of reason.