SPRING SNOW

jack left, jenny right

 

I woke this morning, looked out the window and saw snow, snow stuck to branches and twigs, snow a couple inches deep on the ground. Sunday morning I woke a little after 7:30, looked at the clock, glanced out the window and saw a white haze over the landscape. I said my eyes are unreliable, it was the way the light was glancing off the ground. Later, riding to Justin's with Melvin to see the race, Melvin mentioned it snowed at his place at 7:30, groundcover, and then it was gone. When I woke an hour or so later, no trace of snow. My eyes still play tricks on me. I wonder sometimes if it might be the result of experience during which I learn repeatedly I really don't get what's going on, whatever it is. I've learned to live with limited perception such that I don't dare trust my assessments of what is going on inside my head any more than I dare trust my assessments of another individual, whoever it may be. Like Jack's color, I look at it as brown and it's gray, look at it as gray and it's brown. In my first years in the mountains, coming from a totally different culture that believed itself superior to all others, I'd get something in my mind about old man Tom Pruitt as a part of his character or nature, and next time I saw him, the conclusion I'd drawn was disabled within the first five  minutes, like something had told him I'd come to a certain conclusion about him, so make city boy jump, show him something totally different that deletes what he walked in the door thinking. I did that so many times in the years I knew Tom, pigeonholing him, compartmentalizing him in my mental index. Every time I drew a conclusion about him, he showed me, first thing, I'd misread him. It was uncanny. I finally caught on, stop trying to "figure out" somebody. Allow him the inner complexity I allow in myself, self-contradictions and all.

 

 jack's breakfast in the snow

 

Seeing the snow this morning caused a double-take. It has been relatively warm the last few days. I look at weather forecasts very seldom, don't care what is going to happen tomorrow, unless a major storm is headed this way, preferring to allow each day its own character, personality, without projecting expectations onto it. The media weather people are becoming more hysterical every year about the weather. A few weeks ago the temperature went down to zero. My friends from other places were concerned for my welfare at zero. Lord have mercy, I've been through 24 below (once). I've lived close to the weather the whole time in the mountains, and zero is tiresome to be outside in, but I don't go out in it except to feed donkeys and birds. Thirty, forty years ago, the weather people talked about it more or less objectively. Now, even on pubic radio, the weather report is told dramatically, like OMG it's gonna snow! I think of it as plain silly and pay it no mind anymore. I hear a dire forecast: rain for the next three days! Yeah, every once in awhile a damp sprinkling and overcast about all the time. It's told like it is three days and nights of driving monsoon ahead, get out your boats, you're gonna need em. My personal experience with the weather is that it's mostly benign. Snow is tiresome in the machine age, but I stay home when the snow is a foot deep and wait for it to melt. Living close to the world of nature as I do, I am happy to see the rain and happy to see the snow. They keep the world of green things growing. Cold winters keep fleas down in the summer. Precipitation keeps the ravages of drought from taking over. I've a feeling with the crust of our continent being fracked, the western half of the USA may be desert in a few generations. The Appalachian Mountains, source of water for the eastern half of the continent, are being systematically destroyed from one end to the other. What can I do? I look out the window at donkeys in the snow, marvel that I have heat and my world is in good shape for now.

 

 

 

calf 21

 A slight cause for alarm this morning. The calf was gone. I looked everywhere in the meadow for a white calf in snow landscape while taking hay to Jenny and Jack. Took enough for calf too. No calf. After putting down the hay, I followed some donkey hoof prints out into the meadow to see if I could find maybe some calf prints. None. The donkey tracks turned around at a certain point and walked back. I went on to look the length of the creek, hoping the calf had not fallen into the creek on its back before the snow started. No calf in the creek. Only one thing left: Jesse must have been here yesterday while I was having a nap and took the calf to its next world. I called Jesse and, sure enough, he had been here to pick up the calf. He said he might bring three more calves in a few days. I did not get any sense from the donkeys they missed the calf. They had a quiet manner about them that suggested to me they were feeling the loss. I know they do, because when calf 23 went out, the donkeys and the calf mourned a few days. It's a certain stillness they have this morning that suggests to me they wonder about it. I'm thinking about asking Jesse to put the calves in the half of the meadow across the creek where the donkeys don't go for not liking to cross the water. I thought it might give donkeys and calves a chance to see each other across the creek, maybe  become curious and eventually want to be acquainted. More than likely, my guess would be the donkeys would become territorial about their half of the meadow and keep the calves on the other side. There is no telling what kind of social dynamic will go on between them. One thing for sure, the calves will learn to stay away from Jenny, she kicks.

 

my friend jenny

 

I felt like it was a good time for 21 to move on to next home because the calf had become afraid of Jenny, stayed back from her all the time. At hay feeding time, calf would wait in the distance for me to feed Jenny and Jack, then I'd put down a pile of hay and call the calf. It would come to the hay dancing. I suspect Jenny has been tormenting the calf, so it is good for it to go into its next social setup, probably a small herd. The calf has so little experience with other cows, not even memory of another cow, except what memory is left of calf 23, I wonder how it will do. One thing about this calf in a herd, it will be comfortable with solitude, may even be the cow in the herd that stays off to itself. Every herd has one. In my herd, I'm that cow. The calf may even take up with the herd's donkey. Or be afraid of it. This picture above of Jenny is the Jenny I know, the Jenny I look at when I talk to her. This is Jenny's face. To my eyes, she has a beautiful face. I tell her every day she is a beautiful donkey. She has a very complex personality. She's aggressive and quick to let the others know who rules. I don't challenge her role as Alpha Donkey. I don't want the role. I'm told over and over, "They're gonna getcha, they'll kick ya." I don't say they will never kick me, because I don't know. But I have near complete confidence I'll never be kicked by either one of them, unless it's a mistake like the time Jack kicked the back of my hand, but merely a touch I barely felt. He corrected his error before he connected. Jenny's rear end was on the other side of me. Jenny is a feisty donkey. I like that in her. She is different almost every day. Ice cream man gives them carrots every morning, talks lovey-dovey to them, tells them every day they are loved, and ice cream man can be counted on not to hurt them or surprise them. I know that both Jenny and Jack have an affection for me. I see it in their eyes and their behavior. They treat me as good as I treat them. I'm gentle with them, they're gentle with me. I treat them like I care about them and they regard me the same. It's the old thing, you get what you give. They know the difference between caring and not caring.    

 

 

my friend jack

 

 

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CALF RAISED BY DONKEYS

21

The temperature has risen to 40, melting the ice. The white ice on everything was beautiful to look at, but it is even better to see it go. I put the donkey's hay close to the fence this morning because it felt less desolate for them under trees than out in the open ice and cold. Fog is coming back, the trees rain melted ice. The calf in the meadow with the donkeys has been on my mind and has been on my heart. It is coming into its personality. I'm more able to see consciousness there, something to interact with. I've prayed for it and see now that it has come into what I've been looking to for it. I've not known what to do for it. Its fate appears to be a solitary existence in cow form, a herd animal. Its story is the sad tale of cows, meat. 21 was taken from mama way too early, even to indifference way too early. My friends who buy and sell cattle asked about leaving two or three calves in the meadow. Sure. Glad to have something in the meadow. The calf was set loose in the meadow when the grass was green. Weeks old. It learned about grazing. It slept in a small stand of ironweed close to the fence. Coyotes would taunt it in the night, all around it, yipping their ear-piercing puppy yelps. Immediately on hearing them, I run out the door and holler, GIT, full bass roar like the giant got out of the box. It's the only thing I've found to work. I tried banging pot lids, pots, anything that clanged. The coyotes paid it no mind. One loud Git and they are gone. Concern for the calf haunted my heart and I did not know what to do. It's not my business. It's on its way to cheap meat. It was born on the production line. It was afraid of me and ran to the other end of the meadow. I believed it was short-term temporary, and left it be somebody else's concern.

 

jack September 2013

 

I had been hearing about donkeys keeping coyotes away, and seeing out on the county roads one or more donkeys in a meadow with a herd of cows. A Jack came up for sale from somebody I knew at very reasonable cost, a rebel yaell price, hail yeah. Donkey turns up in the meadow one day. I didn't know what to do. It was a beast. Much bigger than me. I was aware of a statistic I'd heard on NPR some years ago that less people are killed in plane crashes around the world per year than are killed by donkeys. I thought: Donkeys? I continued to think, Donkeys? I'd think about them being African herd animals originally. They're not too different from zebras that are famous for being untamable. Sheena of the Jungle rode a white horse with black lines painted on it Fifties jungle movie obvious. The donkeys have a naturally humble nature. It lends them to being used by humans to carry things, as tamable as a dog. A significant difference I've observed. Dogs forgive. Donkeys are like cats. They get you back, if not right now, first chance. Before I learned anything about donkeys, I'd only been told to stay out from behind them. I went up to the gate that was close to where I park and looked at the donkey. It came walking to me eventually. We gradually, tentatively, became acquainted, both of us cautious. Once acquainted through the gate, I bought carrots at the grocery store. Lord have mercy, how tasteless they are. The donkeys love the crunch and more than likely the taste. Suddenly I'm realizing these carrots are bred for high sugar content. Might be more to it than I imagined when I call myself the ice cream man. The human in the barn delivers morning sugar rushes. Crunchy sugar cubes. Or maybe I'm exaggerating. The donkeys like the carrots and that makes me happy.

 

jack and 21

 

A creek divides the greater meadow into two meadows of equal sizes. Donkey won't cross the creek. Calf was on the other side of the creek. Donkey stayed in the meadow he was released into. The calf crossed the creek a time or two. They were acquainted, but uninterested in each other. The calf evidently found the donkey unpredictable and stayed on its own side of the creek. The calf seemed to have no awareness. It was aware that Jack was not a welcoming presence. They stayed in their own yin-yang meadows with Spring Lizard Creek running between them. I don't recall the time in months, but another calf was brought in, number 23. I don't know if I can find a picture of 23. An update with restart, and all my pictures are gone. I believe they are still in the computer, but the likelihood of me finding them is similar to the chance of finding the Malaysian plane in the Indian Ocean, the post-modern needle in a haystack. I'll not worry over it, will keep on a-keepin on. The two calves were conceptually far apart like from pre-beginning pre-school for 21 to maybe first grade for 23. The new calf was somewhat socialized, had known other calves. The calf in the meadow had been living solitary since knee-high, no learning from mama or other calves, a baby left to the coyotes in the night. Jack did not chase away the coyotes. They surrounded him a few times. A moment from the movie, Runaway Train, a young, vulnerable woman, a railroad employee, screams at Jon Voight's character, "You're a Beast!" He answered, "Worse. Man." The coyotes, like everything else, know the two-leggeds are lethal. The new calf, 23, became a teacher for 21, who started coming to. Then 23 had an accident, was taken away to die after a few days.

 

21 and jenny

 

I was puzzled about what to do. Two herd animals in solitary confinement either side of the creek. Stepped into the meadow with Jack and got to know him gradually. I chose to name him Jack because it is the most common name for a male donkey. A Jack means a male donkey. I like that it has associations with a friend of my parents when I was a kid, Jack of Jack and DeLouris, who drove a brand new pink and gray 55 Ford convertible. I thought Jack was great. I loved DeLouris like crazy. I did not name Jack the donkey after this Jack. I just like the association. Keeps someone in memory who was important in childhood. I decided to put out a search for a girlfriend for Jack, another Bethlehem Cross donkey. Jack was lonesome. Found Jenny, brought her here in a horse trailer. Jack took off after Jenny in complete unconsciousness. She kicked him all over his body, neck and head so he could not bray for a few days, only able to squeak. They were so rambunctious that the ice cream man stayed out of the meadow over a month. By the time hard winter came, the calves had shared the shed with the donkeys. All three mourned the loss of 23. Jenny became a friend and teacher to the calf, brought it a little farther along in awareness. The calf has grown to the same size as Jack. The three have their hierarchy worked out. Everybody is happy now that Jenny is here. Jack loves her single-mindedly. Jenny seems happy to be with Jack for her mate. The calf stays near the donkeys now, though out of kicking range. The calf has seen me touch Jack and Jenny. It has watched them at carrot time. It is three at the gate now. Jenny turns on the calf, doesn't want to be its friend anymore during feeding time. The calf has something of a herd now.

21

 

 

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CALF MEDICINE DAY

jenny, jack and 21 from the road

 

Thought I'd make a run down the road to Whitehead to see the guys at the welding shop. Car would not start. Justin was across the road in the woods with chainsaw cutting a trail through the woods to drive his truck through. I thought I'd walk over there and find him, have him stop by on the way out and jump my battery. I was walking up the road when I saw Jesse's pickup stop by a gate to the meadow. He had brought his two girls and friend David Parsons with him. David is quite a good country singer. He made a self-produced album ten or more years ago and plays at places around the area from time to time, small places. He sings folk style with acoustic guitar. They had come to give the calf some worm medicine and to put something on it for lice. I welcomed them to the petting zoo. The girls asked if the donkeys were safe. I told them the donkeys would neither kick them nor bite them, but I had to add I can only really say they won't bite or kick me. I don't know about somebody else. I said the chances are good, very good, the donkeys won't be a problem. Jenny walked right up to Abby, who started petting on Jenny, who doesn't like being touched. Zoe, her sister, stayed back a little bit. Abby wants to be a vet and is interested in everything to do with the animals. She was right there with her daddy asking questions and getting good answers. She wanted to be in there as close as she could get. She watched Jesse wrestle the calf down to take charge of its head so he could put the medicine in its mouth. David put some solution on its back for lice.  

 

david, zoe, abby, 21, jesse, jenny, jack

 

I used to be impressed by knowledge that had no practical application. Possibly, I learned the attitude from school, where if you're going to do something you have to be great, succeed, be famous, have wealth. By this time in my life, I'm more impressed by knowledge that is practical, knowledge you function by. In addition to the other. Jesse's knowledge I would have completely overlooked before I came to the mountains. He would have been just a redneck farm hand that never heard of Wallace Stevens or Robert Rauschenberg, drove a pickup and wore a ballcap, talked with a hillbilly whang, and didn't know nothin. Today I laugh, I mean ROFLMAO, at what I would have missed. At this time in my life, I look at what Jesse knows how to do, Justin too, and many others like them in these hills, my Tennessee ancestors, and I am stunned by the knowledge. I rode in the pickup with Jesse and Justin when we went to pick up Jenny. Driving a road with woods on both sides, one says, "There's a doe." Didn't even have to indicate direction, which side of the road, anything. The other saw it almost as immediately. I search the woods as fast as I can and never find it before we're gone from sight. Every time. I've never found a deer one of them spotted in the woods, and the other says, "A big'n," or, "I'd let that'n go for next year." I barely know what they're talking about. They talk hunting all the time. I've gained extensive hunting knowledge from them. Have even been in Bass, outside Charlotte, the Walmart of sporting goods. If they don't have it, it does not exist. Jesse is people that say to me, "I'm probably boring you to death," and I say, "No! No! Go on," when they're telling me about dragging a ten-pointer uphill all the way to the nearest place he could get with the truck. A buck the size of a donkey is heavy. When they tell hunting stories, the situation they had to drag it out from is part of the adventure.

 

david, 21 and jesse

 

I listen to their adventures hunting, racing, fighting, all of it, and love it as much as I love a good talk by somebody like Jane Goodall, a good reading by somebody like Robert Bly, a good show by somebody like Louise Nevelson, a good film by Krzysztof Kieslowski, good banjo pickin by Kyle Creed. I love hearing their hunting adventures. These are rugged men. I've walked over land with Justin he told me he dragged a buck out of a few weeks ago. It was a great distance, long uphills, a creek to cross. He took me in with him when he carried the parts in for his tree stand and ladder. I offered to carry something. No. He said it's a one man thing. You don't take in any more than you can carry yourself, because hunting is a solitary thing to do, mostly. They take their kids. Justin says Vada will have her first deer before she's five. She will. By the time she's in high school, she will be a foxy, stylish babe after her mama, will like to ride horses, bow hunt and she'll be able to fight a man. Justin and Crystal and I have talked many times about the world she is growing up into. Rape culture is bad in colleges now. By the time she's in Jr hi and high school, it will be there. It already is, but it will be far more pervasive in ten to fifteen years. She's going into martial arts training as soon as she's able, age 8, thereabouts. All of us want Vada able to defend herself from men. We know the world she's growing up into. Like Melvin, Jesse and I say, "Justin's gonna end up killin somebody over that young'un." I've known Justin all his life and he knows I love to hear his hunting stories, fishing stories, fighting stories, whacked out on drugs that would make your hair stick straight up to hear about stories. He knows I don't judge him, so he tells me like it is. These guys are wild. That's spelled W-I-L-D. They're armed at all times. And they're fun. Their kids love them like crazy. So do their women. Good people.

 

de-lousing 21

 

The word from Jesse today is hopeful for 23. He said the calf is not yet able to stand up, but it's energy is coming around. He said he poked it with a prodder and the back legs made an effort to stand up, but couldn't make it yet. That told him the calf was recovering and he would be bringing it back to the meadow in a day or two. For fun, I told him to tell 23 its friends are looking forward to it coming back. I say it. They are steers. Jenny was as curious about the proceedings around 21 as Abby was. She had to see everything. Curiosity is very much her nature. She sees something like a dog walking down the road long before Jack. Not long before, I had given them carrots across the fence. I gave Jack a good rubbing on the underside of his neck and under his jaw. He likes it, though not too much. Jenny, seeing me petting on Jack wanted me to rub her neck and she liked it. I've found she only lets me touch her after she's seen me rubbing on Jack. Then she wants me to touch her. It had not been fifteen minutes since I'd been petting on Jenny that Abby started petting her. Abby was good with Jenny. For quite awhile she acted like she didn't see Jenny, was just there observing. Jenny came closer, she reached out her hand, touched Jenny's nose, and that evolved into a petting. I thought: she'll make a good vet. Calf de-wormed, de-loused, and examined, it walked away as if unperturbed by the medicine, like this is what we're doing today. From there, they rode Jesse's pickup down the hill to my car, and I walked with Zoe. She asked about how the calf fell into the creek. At the car, jump cables out of the trunk hooked up to Jesse's truck, car started. Drove to Whitehead and back. The doors are working like nothing ever happened. The door I thought would never open again is working like before. The fasten seat belt light goes on and off according to habit.  

 

jenny's turn for attention

 

 

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DONKEY JENNY FEELS MORE AT HOME

jenny and jack

It felt so good today with temperature above freezing in the afternoon, I looked out the window and saw Jack on his side with his head down on the ground like he was dead. One ear sticking up. His belly to the sun, he was soaking up some rays, feeling good. Jenny was standing still receiving the sunlight on her side. Calf 21 was lying down chewing its cud. I walked up to neighbor's house and had another long hot bath. It felt good in the sunlight. Not much wind today. A very pleasant day to follow the coldest day of the year. The calf stays close to Jack or Jenny and by now feels free enough not to be close to them all the time. It seems like the two donkeys have a new attitude toward the calf, and the calf toward them. Before, they were distant. It was the donkeys in one part of the meadow and the calves in another. Jack and Jenny have taken to 21, supporting the calf. I'm thinking the donkeys are able to hear the calf cry with their telepathy. Even without telepathy, they know the loneliness the calf is feeling. Jack, Jenny and the calf were all abducted, taken from their friends and mothers. Jenny is still feeling the loss of her goat friends. I've been seeing in Jenny a calmness come over her in the last week or more. Jack stays close to her, and she stays close to him. One knows where the other one is at all times. On the phone this morning with Carole, I was remarking how calm Jenny has become recently and how Jack kinda seemed like he was hovering somewhat. It appeared to me to be a protective feeling in Jack. I can't read donkeys very well, but his interest in being around her gives the appearance of feeling himself Jenny's protector.

 

jack's nose

 

Jack is a very interesting being to me. I've had a chance to know Jack for some months before Jenny came into the meadow, and by now we are friends. While I was fussing with the hay, Jack was wanting another carrot, which I didn't have. He was poking his nose at my shirt pockets where I carried the carrots, giving me a pesky look with his eye. My glove has a Velcro flap at the wrist that I did not have fastened. It was sticking out from the glove and the sleeve. Jack took the flap with his teeth, looking at me with fun in his eye, I let out a yelp and he let go. I explained to him the carrots are gone. I noticed in the last few days the niggling joy within when I carry an armload of hay through the gate. I let Jenny and Jack each take some hay to chew on while I walk out to where the sun shines. Calf 21 wanted a chew this morning. Now, instead of two and two, it is three. The calf has become Jack and Jenny's friend. I'm glad to see 21 has them to comfort her. I called today to ask about 23. Still has not stood up of its own will. I'm wondering if it is feeling lonesome, taken away from its friend and the donkeys, solitary confinement in a stall with heat and plenty to eat. It doesn't know what is happening. Another abduction, taken again into the unknown. What kind of will to live could it have? It doesn't know that if it gets well, it will be reunited with 21. I'm so bad that I have become acquainted with their personalities to the place I see them people. The stockyard is the same to me as a slave market. I can't talk about this. I live in a world of people who see no value in the person in the animals, same as slave-holders don't value the person in the human.

 

jenny's profile

 

One day talking to Jenny before I realized she understood what I was saying, I mentioned I'm glad I bought her, and she reacted to that word with a brief turn inward to her sorrow. I told myself never to talk about buying her. It was a reminder that she is my slave. Though I don't think of it like that, I don't see how she could think of it any other way. I tell Jenny I'm glad she came to live with me. I'm happy with what I got from the luck of the draw. The better I know Jenny, the better I love her. Her disposition has calmed down so much in the last week or so that I'm suspecting she might be with child. I like her walking beside me while I carry the hay out into the meadow. Jack is close behind and the calf follows Jack. Jenny, being obviously the head donkey, wants her hay first, her grain first, and she wants to be the one next to human. Jack gets too close to me, Jenny's ears go back and she gets a streamlined face that says she's ready for action, face-on like a wolf. She has a fierceness about her she wears well. She's gentle naturally. She's a donkey. It doesn't mean she's going to take any old thing that comes her way. I would not be able to see how fierce a donkey is. I started to write can be. But a donkey is fierce. They have access to their most ferocious self at all times. If you've ever seen on tv wild horses fighting, they have some power in their legs and some power in their jaws. They stand and walk all day and they munch grass and hay all day. Equines are powerful beings. They are gentle by choice.

 

jack's brow

 

Jack has had a quiet about him recently, side by side with Jenny's quiet. It's a restful quiet. I'm feeling they are possibly in process of bonding. Carole's suggestion was that Jenny might be pregnant, going by the recent change in her behavior. I'd say it is a pretty fair likelihood she may be. It takes a year, so she'll have he baby just in time for winter. It happens every winter. It's nothing new. By then, we may have a little better shelter for them. Recently, I have been feeling a safety among the four-leggeds. I feel like Jenny is not going to kick me. I've walked close behind her a few times when she'd turned her back end to me, just to see if she'd kick. It's like swinging her rump around is an automatic defensive move, whether or not to kick is a conscious choice. I think Jenny is learning to trust me. I am learning to trust her. The change in her feels like she is more relaxed with me now. We are not so mutually apprehensive. She has a pesky streak in her nature and likes to play tricks on me. Simple donkey tricks, like biting my shirt tail just to see me jump. It makes her laugh. I like to see a four-legged play and I like it when they play a trick on me. I feel like being included in their play is the best form of communication with them. When one plays a trick on me, I feel like I've broken through the language and all that goes with it barrier. That's when they tell me we are indeed friends. I no longer reach out to touch them. I just walk with them and talk to them and laugh at their tricks. I feel safe with them in their trust. I have always been gentle and humble with them and they are the same to me in return. I'm told that I spoil them. Whatever. I'm safe among them. That, for me, is the main thing. I'm safer among them in gentleness and humility than I am by threatening and hitting. Me heap big Alpha Male! Not. Just somebody who recognizes that they are beautiful people in horse bodies.

 

jack and jenny

 

 

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