FLAT TIRE STORY

alexander calder

Another cold day. This time I stayed at home where I belong. Don't want to drive again any time soon. In town yesterday I went into the hardware store for some flea one-spot treatment for Caterpillar. Talked with Marsha some about donkeys and horses. Saw my friend Tammy Sawyer, an old-time bass and dulcimer player, and we talked briefly. I opened the door to the parking lot and saw my right rear tire was flat. One more unexpected event to make me crazy. Nothing to do but bear down on it. Open the trunk, rearrange the things I keep in the trunk, a box of car-need things, a tent and a sleeping bag. I keep a sleeping bag and tent in the trunk for the unforeseen in case of need. If I were to get into a predicament stranded someplace and it cold, I have the sleeping bag. I have to store it someplace, thinking the trunk of the car a better place than in the house. The spare wheel was under the floor of the trunk, which needed lifting to extract the wheel, one of those hateful miniature wheels. I'm so accustomed to unforeseen speed bumps in these weeks, five now, I gave self to the situation with minimal cussing. The car had one of those factory jacks I threw away as soon as the car became mine and bought a real jack, the kind on wheels mechanics use. They are so easy and so convenient, the $45 it cost was nothing. It felt good to roll the jack under the rear axle and pump it up easily. This meant lying down on the ice cold pavement of the parking lot, which I was glad to do. I'd so much rather have a flat in a level controlled space with no traffic than on the side of the road. Having done this before, I'm checked out on the procedure, mapped it out, step by step in my head and followed the steps. It's a simple process with a good jack. Crawling under the fender, I had to turn my ball cap around backwards. Punk.

alexander calder

Two men I know stopped and offered help, separately. I thanked them and declined the offer. Changing a flat is merely a matter of the time it takes. Every step is simple. Loosen the lug nuts. Another purchase at the same time as the rolling jack was an X lug wrench, a steel one that won't make me feel like Superman when the wrench itself twists in my hands. The kind that come from the factory are good for nothing but frustration. A good jack and a good lug wrench are my number one accessories in whatever I'm driving. And a fire extinguisher. I keep one in the box between the two front seats, the arm rest. The fire extinguisher fits in that compartment like it was made for it, the other accessory I will not drive without having in the car. Experience has taught me that when a fire starts inside a vehicle, only a fire extinguisher will put it out. I was given no choice but to watch my Toyota pickup go up in yellow flames and black smoke over insulation mice had chewed off some wires. All I had was a towel. I'd put the fire out, lift the towel and it would start again, dripped and started one someplace else, towel back and forth, then another. Right away it went out of control. Everything in the interior of a vehicle is oil-based plastic and foam. All I could do was get back and watch. A fire extinguisher would have taken care of it at the start. I also carry a hammer in the door pocket. Having seen what happens, and knowing two people who burned up in cars, separately, I am not going to burn up in a car. Car glass cannot be broken hitting it with hands or elbows. It takes steel to break a side glass on a car. A claw hammer is a good tool with many uses. Also in the door pocket, I keep a long screwdriver, necessary for letting down the hydraulic jack. It's easy with a big screwdriver, very difficult trying to use a dime. The ice scraper I used yesterday stays in the pocket too. 

alexander calder

Turning the lug nuts off the bolts was a chore. They're old and hugging the bolt a little too tightly. That's a good thing so they won't unscrew themselves. I couldn't spin the wrench to turn them off the bolts. Went to the box in the trunk for some WD40. It wasn't there. It's in the house. Found a little spray can of lock-tite, something to spray into a lock when it's resisting the key. I sprayed some of it onto the lug bolts and it worked very well spinning a couple of them back on. I might talk with mechanic about getting some new lug nuts. I like keeping the parts on the car in good shape. I like changing a wheel to be easy instead of difficult. Just having to do it is difficult enough without having lug nuts that require wringing the wrench half a turn at a time all the way to the end of the bolt. Flats happen. It's a regrettable experience every time. I feel like it is important for my mental health to have every step of wheel changing work smoothly. This is at least the third one with this car. Driving country roads, screws and nails fall out of the back of working men's pickups bouncing up the gravel road with washboard in it. The tire picked up a big screw that looks like it fell off a car or pickup, wiggled loose from the body underneath. Flat tires are an element of country living. This one today was minimally aggravating, thanks to the experience of flats in the past that taught me to carry the right tools for the job. A cheap jack makes a major aggravation. A cheap lug wrench does too. I call it being kind to myself to buy the right tools, keep them in the trunk and be sure the inevitable that's always a surprise will be just another easy problem to solve. 

alexander calder

Lying on the pavement when the two different guys offered a hand, I remembered an old boy I saw at least twenty years ago changing a wheel by the side of the road. I was driving down the mountain on Hwy 21 with twenty-seven curves, for whatever reason I don't remember. It takes a lot to get me off the mountain. At the bottom of the mountain where the road straightened for a good chance to pass a truck you're dealt the misfortune of following down the mountain, a big Chevy SUV was parked beside the road, a bumper jack holding it up, an old country boy sitting on the ground with a spare tire. I passed by thinking he's got it under control. I re-saw him in my mind's eye and realized he did not have it under control. He was in his seventies, kept alive by a doctor and medications, has these huge tires to deal with, somehow got the spare out and onto the ground and the back end jacked up. He couldn't do any more. He'd met his limit. He was sitting beside the tire in frustration. I turned at the next place to turn around and went back to give him a hand. I could not have driven any further once I saw his situation. It wasn't morality. It wasn't good deeds. I saw he could not take the old wheel off and put the new one on. He didn't have the strength. I did. It's what we do in the mountains. You see somebody needs a hand, you lend a hand. It's mountain code. It's what hillbillies do. He was tickled somebody stopped to help him. When I saw him up close, I wondered how he made it as far as he had. The tires were big and he was frail. I went through the procedure of changing the wheels, uneasy about the bumper jack I was careful not to shake. I grew up in the Fifties when guys would crawl under their cars to work on them using bumper jacks. It was frequent in the news that a man was crushed to death when his bumper jack let go. I was glad to get the old boy back on the road, and he was thankful, offered to pay me. No, pay was not the purpose. We shook hands and went on our ways.  

alexander calder himself

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LOVE IN THE DONKEY MEADOW

jack and his shadow munch hay

The last three days have been active all day long every day. Preparing the donkey den for winter has been the number one priority in the few days before the temperature dropped last night. I was glad to see this morning they came out of the donkey den for carrot time. Carrots done, I gave them hay in separate places and went inside to have a look at the hay for imprints of where they slept. They slept side by side and it looks like they had comfortable space. The wind was blowing a little. I also stepped inside to to see how the air felt. The air was still. It felt cozy. I was most curious to see if I might need to move the wall of hay bales out a few feet to give the donkeys more room. They appear to handle the space comfortably. The opening is smaller now, giving them possibly a sense of security with only one way in and it a narrow passage, plenty wide enough for a donkey. Before, the whole side was open. This appears to be a solution for now to help them through the cold winter. Talking with my friend Marsha today, who knows equines, she emphasized that donkeys are hardy. Horses are hardy and donkeys even more. She told me not to be concerned about them handling the cold. They can take it, and it's good for their health. It's still cold for them. This morning I saw Jack when he emerged from the den. His tail was tucked between his legs like a scared dog. The temperature was below twenty. I put a bale of last year's hay on the dirt floor to give them insulation. They prefer the dry dirt, but I put the hay in anyway. Jack left a pile of droppings in a corner. I took it for marking his new space, or maybe he would have needed to step over Jenny to go outside, which would not be tolerated. It's the same as the old space, just more comfortable in winter. It smells like home now. I happen to be somebody who loves barnyard scents. I'm glad my place smells like donkey. I drive home from somewhere, get out of the car, smell the air of home and it feels so good to be back. 

happy donkeys

My heart has been welling up with love for Jenny and Jack since Jenny's misfortune with the baby. I felt we were close before, but we went into a new zone. Before, it was like them and me. Now it is we three. I am now included in their life together. I'm not just a human that handles and feeds them. I really am their friend now. I felt a bonding with them, individually, in the time of our shared sorrow. I felt their sorrow with them, grieved with them. They know now that I feel their feelings and they feel mine. Though it is a sad time, it is an equally happy time, sorrow and joy together, yin-yang, balance. I feel we have a better balance now. Just because we are closer, doesn't mean they won't swing their rear ends to me like they do each other. It means I understand them a little bit better and they understand me better. I believe love is shown by action so all my movements around them are loving in that I don't threaten them or hit them. I talk to them and tell them I love them. I also show them. I feel a love coming from them. I've learned the four-leggeds are apprehensive of our arms and hands. They're unpredictable. At times I've taken friends into the meadow to visit the donkeys, I'll ask them not to make fast arm movements. Move an arm too fast and they jump. I keep my arms down and make slow movements with them. They learned when I roll bales of hay down the hill they are in no danger. They ran from the first ones. By the time I rolled the last bales down the hill, Jack became playful with them and Jenny curious. Sometimes in the meadow with them, when I'm spending time with them, talking to them, rubbing their backs and necks, Jack will push me with his side. It is something he gets a kick out of doing. I can see it in his face that he's doing something fun. He will push me until I take a step or two to get balance. He laughs like it's a donkey joke. 

one-eyed jack

I want them comfortable with me and see by now that they are. Giving Jenny carrot in the morning, I break a long carrot into three sections. The big end is sometimes too big for them to chew easily, as all their teeth are in front. I will hold one in the open palm of my hand and Jenny will chew it sideways. I give them a handful of grain sometimes, too, just for the fun of seeing them eat from my hand and I never feel their teeth. They pick everything up with their lips. Today and yesterday my heart has been overflowing with love for Jenny and Jack. It's love that makes our communication flow so freely. Love is also the telegraph wire for telepathy. I don't know that I am aware of anything I'm receiving from them, but I do know they pick up telepathically from me. There's no other way they could understand everything I say to them. Words we speak are pictures in our minds. I feel like the donkeys read the pictures of the words I speak to them. This makes me curious about the Chinese language where the words are pictures. I wonder about the language in relation to telepathy. I would not make a conjecture that something is better about their language than ours or ours better than theirs. A look at Western history and Chinese history, it is all human madness, men killing and conquering, women raising kids and mourning. It looks like a groove all of humanity is locked into. The madness is expression of hate, perpetually burning itself off in wars, but never being cured. Perhaps this time of major wars and ongoing wars is a time of burning off the hate to such an obnoxious extreme that maybe collective humanity will learn something important. Never has. Who can say now can be any different? 

punk jenifer 

The core of all the religions is love, yet religions are used to fire up hate, us against them, we're right, they're wrong, no two ways about it. My love connection with Jenny and Jack is far more important to the soul than any religious observance I can think of. There is probably not a preacher in Christendom who would go along with that. For one thing, it's out of their control. Making it all the better. Love was nonexistent in the first half of my life. I did the love-making, but once it was made it was done. It got me into some crazy situations and some crazy parts of town. There came a time I learned I cannot trust myself. That's when love opened up to me. I came to the mountains for attempted solitude to give my true self opportunity to come forward from the super-conscious to everyday life. It is through love I am able to know Jack and Jenny. I show my love by being a human they can trust who wants to understand them. They fell in with a human who finds all life forms fascinating. The primitive people, primitive meaning first, not stupid, called the various life forms people. They are people. What we call people in ourselves, they are too. Jack is a unique individual among donkeys, as is Jenny. I know them individually, know their personalities, their peculiarities, their love for each other. It makes me feel fulfilled to provide a home for donkeys who are in love. They are mated for life. It's the love between them that keeps them together day and night. I love giving them a place to live where they can live their donkey nature freely without expectation from a human. I feel like the meadow I now call the Donkey Meadow has become a love meadow. I feel tremendous love when I'm in the meadow with them. It almost has a dream-like quality walking through the meadow.   

jenny ears up

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WINTERIZING THE DONKEY DEN

jenny and jack with winterized shed

The last days of decent weather before the forecast drop in temperature accompanied by wind, rain, ice, snow and everything else that can happen. Temperature is said to drop tonight and be blustery the next few days and cold all through November. Weather forecasts have been so inaccurate the last few years, I've learned to take it as it comes. I looked at the ten day forecast. Below freezing every night and highs each day slightly above freezing and sometimes not. The best part is little wind. I've used the last couple days to get 12 bales of hay from the barn to the stack by the donkey shed, covered them with a tarp to keep them dry. Today I brought 6 bales of last year's hay to stack in the open side of the donkey shed to give them a wall against the wind. The car's trunk holds three bales per trip. I've been using boards and cardboard to cover big holes and cracks in the shed's walls. It had a big hole in a side wall where chickens once went in and out. Another hole with screen up high for ventilation with chickens. I but boards over the openings. The door had cracks between the boards. Covered them with strips of cardboard stapled to the wood. I spread a bale of last year's hay over the dirt floor. They actually prefer the dirt, but I put hay in for insulation if it might help. Now I don't know if both can be comfortable in there. They will work it out. I wanted to leave a space above the stacked hay bales for them to see over it. It was cold and a light drizzle had begun when I went out a few minutes ago to see how they took to the new situation. Jenny was inside and Jack was looking in. I got some pictures of donkeys with new shed and went inside to feel it. Remarkable change just stepping into the space. No wind, but it still felt comfortable inside. 

donkey quarters

I'm curious to see if both will go in at the same time with a wall. What a job it was, dragging the hay bales out the barn door, only slightly wider than the bales, lifting them into the trunk, driving to the fence, throwing them over the fence, going back for three more and throwing them across the fence. They rolled about half way to the shed. I believe the tarp over the six bales will hold them in place and keep rain off them. I'm not worried about the donkeys eating the hay, it being hay they don't like. I put the tarp over the hay to hold the bales in place while donkeys bump against them, push at them, test them. My imagination tells me Jenny may claim the space and keep Jack out, though I'm not convinced it will be like that. One of the many things the donkeys have taught me is I cannot predict them. I like that. It keeps them fresh. I talked yesterday with my friend Marsha at the hardware store about Jenny losing her baby. Marsha knows horses, loves horses like I love donkeys. She asked me about Jenny's udder, how developed it was. I saw it the day before, lying down in the meadow with Jenny grazing around me. I noticed it had not developed and remembered thinking it odd. Marsha said it suggests premature. She said when the foal is born the udder is like a balloon. She said nature has a way of taking out the weak. I mentioned suspicion Jenny did not know what she was doing when she chose to lie down in the mud. Marsha said, "She knew what she was doing." Marsha mentioned that I had suspected February was the first time I felt like Jack conquered Jenny. 

 Christo was here

For the baby to have taken a year, as donkeys do, Jenny would have conceived the first couple days with Jack, which I don't believe she did. She's bigger than Jack and she was kicking him all over the meadow. Kept him looking like Mike Tyson after a slug-fest. Jack's face had that battered look again this morning. Jenny is back in heat, as donkeys go into heat within a few days after the birth. They are back at their courtship behavior, Jack wanting to climb on Jenny's back, and she's kicking with her ears back and her head down. It is not as vigorous a kicking as it was when she was new in the meadow and she didn't know him. This round, they are in love. Before, they were not. Jack was, but Jenny not. Jack fell in love first sniff. Jenny was six months falling in love with him. Their relationship is calm, calm like people who have lived together a year. Jenny commands Jack and he allows for it. Jack wants to be with Jenny all the time and she wants to be with him all the time. Jack has adjusted to having a woman who can kick his ass. She is willful, jealous, aggressive. Jack is humble, quiet, generous and non-aggressive, except when he wants to be. Jack is a good old boy. Jenny is Uma Thurmond in KILL BILL. She is a martial artist with her back legs. Both have powerful jaws and front legs too. Jack and Jenny are very different kinds of donkeys. Jack is a beast of burden donkey, one who would enjoy being a pickup truck for his human friend. Jack makes me suspect the companionship of humans using donkeys for beasts of burden since back into pre-history has linked them to humans in their DNA. Jack understands me talking. He is responsive to me. Jenny is too. I suspect Jenny has some Mammoth Donkey in her, as she's shaped more like a horse than Jack. Jack is donkey. Jenny is donkey mixed with horse somehow. Her head suggests a horse, whereas Jack is pure donkey. Jenny's baby was a miniature of her. 

jen

I saw today that one of them had dug at the grave, though not much. My feeling is it was the loose dirt that was the subject, not grave. They like to dig at dirt. They are good at clearing a circle on the ground of all vegetation to make a dust circle to wallow on. No rain for several days made their dust circles just right. Today I saw Jack rolling on one and Jenny rolling on another. They roll from one side to the other and back, legs swimming, and do it again until they're satisfied. They keep a thick layer of dust in their hair. It keeps parasites down and I suspect insulates in winter. Their hair is thickening and lengthening now. Last year at this time, Jenny's hair was long, curly and hot-chocolate brown. This year it is shorter, almost like Jack's, and a grayish brown like Jack's, with the hot-chocolate color remaining as a frost, a mere suggestion of the curls on her sides. I find it curious how a year with Jack has changed the nature of her hair. I think she is four. Possibly it changes with maturity. Their hair is so thick now, and longer, that it sticks out instead of laying back like in summer months. They are so covered with dust that when I touch one of them on the back, a cloud of dust rises. In the time Jack was new here, I thought it necessary to brush donkeys like horses. I bought a brush. He liked it. I brushed him all over while he stood still enjoying the sensation of his hair being brushed. As soon as I stopped brushing him, he ran for his first dust circle, dropped down onto his side, rolled back and forth, legs swimming in the air, replacing the dust I had brushed from his hair. I thought I was helping to clean him. I was messing him up. I'd brushed away his fly repellent. Never brushed him again. Just now thought I heard coyotes, jumped and ran to the door, opened it to yell at them. Wind chimes.  

 beautiful jen in the donkey den

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BEAUTIFUL DONKEY JEN

jenny and jack

The night of the full moon Jenny would not let me shovel dirt onto her baby. Sometime in the night she dragged her baby out of the hole and about half way to the place of birthing. I discovered her night activity in the morning. She would not let me near the body. She grazed around it, sometimes nudged it to make it move, and would lie on her side, holding her head up like a horse's head on the Parthenon in Athens. It appears a warrior kind of stance she makes with her head up and alert, her mane spiked out like punk donkey. She is ready to take on anything that comes after her baby. She knows the wild animals around here. She looks like she is ready to take on a bear or a mountain lion. Unafraid. Jenny has a powerful boldness in her nature. The full moon night I walked to the grave to shovel dirt, Jenny followed me close behind, her nose almost touching my back. I have no fear of Jenny, though I do know she can push me in the back with her nose hard enough to knock me down. It would be a gesture to get my attention. She moved around in front, between me and the grave. Jack was walking beside me on my right. Jenny spun around quick as a cat. Jack and I both jumped back by automatic reflex. When Jenny swings her rear end around on you, it's time to scatter. She has power in those back legs. Jack knows all about it. I've seen Jenny hit Jack in the ribs, both feet with all she had, and Jack took it like a tree. He didn't show he even felt it. If she'd hit me like she got Jack, I'd have flown at least ten feet through the air like in a cartoon. Jenny is gentle with me such that I don't believe she would kick me with intent, unless I attempted to shovel dirt onto her baby. Swinging her ass-end to me was a warning. We communicate now that I have learned to read their body language, which is their language. I know she would have kicked me if I'd moved toward the grave. It must have made her laugh to see Jack and me jump at the same time. 

donkey jen

It has been a year that Jenny has lived here with Jack. Their first anniversary was spent in sorrow. This experience has shown me the degree of my connection with the donkeys, as people I know, as friends. Jack had lived here two months before Jenny showed up one evening. Jack and I bonded over those eight weeks. We came to know each other. The day he played a trick on me and laughed, I felt we really communicated. He ran at me full-gallop from about fifty feet away, his eyes bearing down on me. Delight glistened in his eyes. I thought: he won't knock me down, but I don't know. Concluded: he either will or he won't. If he does, I'll get up. I believe he will not. I stood still watching him run full-tilt in a straight line. He stopped quick as a polo pony, from running to motionless, his nose two inches from my belly. He gave me a glance with his eye that said, I thought you'd jump. He wanted to make me jump. This is a favorite game I've seen among all the animals I've known. Kittens like to make each other jump. Making somebody jump is the apex of slapstick animal humor. In our early childhood making somebody jump is hilarious. It's funny to be made to jump. Jenny wasn't playing when she spun around on Jack and me, but I know it gave her a laugh to see us jump like we did. I've learned from the animals I've known they have a sense of humor. They must think we humans are without humor. One wants to play and the human only scolds. One of the things animals love about human children is they like to play. We adults talk to them like they can't understand anything. I find them aching to be understood by humans. They're ready to communicate. All they need is for us to pay attention. 

beautiful jen

I can see it in Jenny and Jack that it makes them happy I communicate with them. The day after she lost her baby, I was giving them carrot chunks. While Jenny was chewing I talked to her. I told her I love her, as I do every day. I said to her, "You're my friend," and she fluttered her lips in a particularly equine way. Jack flutters his lips like this when I tell him he is my friend. All the dogs and cats I've known living here have responded to the word friend in a way that shows they know its meaning. I've learned that I can talk to the donkeys in sentences and paragraphs, and they will show me later they understood everything. I spoke my sorrow to Jenny in her mourning, aware that she knew my meaning. She understood. As much as it hurts and as much as I wish it hadn't happened, I like that this experience brought me into their circle. They like it that I share their feeling with them, that I understood Jenny's sorrow, and Jack's. I see the sorrow in Jenny's eyes. They don't seem to show much, yet I see her eyes every day, several times a day. In the first six months of her pregnancy, plus the new space to live in, fenced in with a serial rapist, Jenny's moods were different every day. Carrot time in the mornings, I read Jenny's eyes to see if I needed to be careful with my fingers. Her eyes flashed in those months. Jack moved within kicking range, she'd nail him. I stayed out of the meadow in Jenny's first three months. The months after, I was wary of her. My wariness has gone. I learned the day I stepped between her and Jack when they were beginning a kick-fest, something like stepping into a donkey mosh pit, Jenny would not kick me. She kicked one leg at Jack as I stepped into the scene. Her hoof connected with the side of my upper leg. I did not feel a thing. She withdrew the power from the punch when she saw what she'd done. It barely touched the outer skin of my pants. Not even a touch. She showed a moment of contrition letting her foot down. I told her it was all right, thanked her for not kicking me. 

jenny jenny jenny

This moment taught me she would never kick me with intent, unless I might provoke her. Jenny is not one to provoke. In Jack's humble nature I see how a donkey makes a good beast of burden, so willing to help a human, valuing friendship with a human. Donkeys have good minds. In Jenny's nature, I understand the statistic I heard on NPR not many years ago, around the globe more people are killed by donkeys per year than die in plane crashes. Jenny and Jack are like yin-yang of donkey nature. Since Jenny fell in love with Jack after living with him six months, she gave Alpha role to Jack and became a quiet, humble donkey, to a point. Her eyes have have had a stillness in them the last several months. I am able to see the sorrow in Jenny's eyes since she lost her baby. I call her Beautiful Jen when talking to her. Today, the third day, she allowed me to drag her baby to the grave and cover it with dirt. I covered the body with a flannel sheet the second day. Jenny removed the sheet in the night. She seemed less interested today. I busied myself in the meadow filling up two five-gallon buckets with droppings for a rhododendron. I put down some sweet grain for Jenny and some for Jack, two donkey lengths between servings. Her ears go back when she's eating grain, meaning everybody stay back. I rolled the baby onto the sheet, dragged it to the grave and lowered it, wrapped it in the sheet and shoveled the dirt into the hole fast as I could go. Jenny saw what I was doing and allowed it. At sunset I looked into the meadow for Jenny. She was lying on her side, head up in guardian mode, next to the spot the baby had been. I've an idea she will be partial to that spot for some time, maybe years.  

donkey jack

jack a-lookin atcha

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