WALKING THE DONKEYS AGAIN

donkey jack at the lake

 

I went out with carrots for the donkeys this morning early. The thin cloud of morning dew glowed over the grass of the meadows in slanted sunlight. No donkeys. I called for Jack, hoping, knowing better, they were resting and being incommunicative. They were gone. The hole I fixed in the fence was not it. I knew then there is another hole and the hole is along the south fence. I went to the house, filled the grain bucket and took a bag of some carrots out of the refrigerator, picked up car keys and left. I knew by the way the fences around here go, the donkeys would be in the same place I found them the day before, near the lake, water. The land itself and the corridor of fences would lead them to the lake. I drove the two miles to the lake and there they were, happy to see me, like usual. I gave them carrots and fed them grain by hand. They like eating it out of my hand. They use their lips like fingers. They never touch me with their teeth. Their lips pick up the grain. Big soft lips, like camel lips, feel good rubbing on my hand, tender.

 

jenny grazes beside her friend catfish

 

I decided that today I am not walking over the mountain again. Still worn out from yesterday's trek over uneven ground and Christmas tree stumps under knee deep groundcover, the desolation of the once beautiful ground was too depressing to dive into a second time. I'd found a gravel road made by Christmas tree growers that bypassed the house with the dogs. This road made it possible to walk the donkeys out by way of road where I could lead them with the car, grateful they follow the car. I headed out and they followed. They walked the first mile fresh and spirited. Second mile, they grazed the sides of the road and took time outs. I allowed them. They are not used to walking steadily for so long at a time. I wanted them to be comfortable and to nourish themselves along the way. Twice we passed gates similar to the two gates to their meadows. They left the road and stood against the gates like they were home, they were done walking, waiting for me to let them in. No, this isn't it, we have a ways to go. It took some effort to distract them away from the gates. I shook the grain bucket, which always works. They don't see carrots from a distance.

 

jack examines the vegetation

 

The car's engine overheated in the first mile of idling, sometimes in N rolling downhill with foot on brake keeping it down to one to two mph. Rolling uphill, I kept it in low range, foot on brake, watching donkeys in the mirror. One time, they started running and I let the car roll a little faster, staying ahead of them. The running subsided and they were back to grazing along the side of the road. I saw they were both eating brown oak leaves that evidently fell from a tree, connected to twigs, after a wind storm. They stopped in a place where several of these leaves were lying in the grass beside the road. Jenny was chewing on them too. They acted like they'd found candy on the ground after a parade. Donkeys are particular about what they eat, though they eat almost as wide a variety of vegetation as goats. I could see they were more tired as we progressed, thinking two good morning walks in a row would enhance their stamina to a degree. I went through a range of emotions during our two mile journey. Even thought about saying something hurtful, like, "If y'all aren't good, I'm gonna sell you." It was too mean a thought to even think. They were better than good. It was my fault they got out. They followed me back both days so perfectly, so willingly, so by free will, I could not call them anything short of good donkeys, thinking that the moment I held the money for them in my hand, I'd fall into such despair I'd have to jump off a cliff like Judas. It would wreck my entire life. 

 

jack shy of the camera

 

I'm glad they had two very different walking experiences. First day over rough ground, up and down, woods to explore, new scenery. Second day they walked a gravel road and a paved road long enough distance to wear them out. Yesterday, they did not want to go into the first gate and I took them to the second gate close to where I park. This morning they were ready for the first gate. I could not unhook the chain fast enough for them. They had a lightness in their step entering the meadow. They were visibly happy to be home. I poured the last of the grain for them. They spent the day in the shade of their shed, resting. I felt good about them, felt like it was healthy for them to get out and walk a few miles, healthy for me too. It will give them a little more stamina to get through the winter. I rested throughout the day, dreading going out to look for the hole in the fence they went through. I called Justin and asked him, please, to come over and look for the hole in the fence for me. I can't do it. Too spent. It worked out just right. He and another guy were coming up here anyway to fish Willis's lake. He found a place the donkeys could get through and some hair on the wire, a strong suggestion. It was the only place along the south side that would lead them to the lake. The donkeys were so lazy I never saw them out grazing all day. They hunkered down in their shed, their energy center, resting in their barn while I rested in my barn.

  

jack happy to be found

 

 

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MORNING WALK WITH THE DONKEYS

donkey jack and his shadow

A phone call at 11 last night asking if I knew of anybody in Air Bellows with donkeys besides me. What? If so, I don't know about it. Donkeys were in their meadow, the dogs were barking like crazy, and the pregnant pause of unspoken, What you gonna do about it? I said I can't do anything about it. It's dark. I can't see. I'll take care of it in the morning. First thing, before 8, I went out in car and found them in the meadow, as told, near a bunch of cows they'd found. Jack saw the car and came running braying. I drove down to the lake where I thought I'd leave the car and walk over a long hill to a place to cross the creek on the other side of the hill to go out a gate to the road. Could not drive back and have them follow me the way I came. It would mean going back through a bark fest of two dogs with no training. The donkeys would not walk through them. I parked the car, gave them their morning carrots beside the lake with a calm, peaceful surface. I told myself this exercise will be calm and peaceful. I'll walk across the mountain and they will follow. I poured some grain for them before our sojourn.

 

jack vacations at the lake

 

We were not walking long before it was like being out walking with two dogs. They did not always follow me. They explored out to the sides, explored ahead, found some woods and decided to explore them. I had to enter the woods for them to see me. They did not respond to calling. They saw me and followed me out of the woods and on down the hill. This is the farm I worked for seven years, a beautiful meadow covered with Christmas tree stumps and plant life on the ground I'd never seen before, very little of it native, anyway native to my experience. I felt sorrow for the ground. Generations of valuable topsoil blotted out. Next, it will be subdivisions, roads, driveways and lawns. I cherished my mortality all the more. It was a long walk. I was aware of not stressing my blood pressure walking up the long hill. Took my time, walking slowly with a stick in one hand and a bag of carrots in the other. Donkeys follow more of their own free will when I have carrots. The carrots run out, motivation to stay near me goes poof. Without something for them to eat, I'm of little to no importance.  They like me, but I'm not a donkey, don't have donkey priorities. Out on a walk over new territory, there is much going on around them that's more important than me, new greens to eat, new ground to explore.

 

 

jack and jenny found

we walked up the hill behind jenny's back

it's longer than it looks

 

Jenny watches Jack to see if he finds something and Jack watches Jenny to see if she found something, simultaneously while they explore for something new to eat. I don't even figure in their curious search. I was their slow friend who takes awhile to catch up. They figured I was safe, knew what I was about, went where I wanted to go. They followed me down the hill well. It was a fairly steep hill to walk down. Down a steep hill is more difficult than going up. I walk down the hill on my heels, more stiff-legged, and it requires balancing. Up the hill is on the forward part of the foot, flexed legs, leaning forward instead of backward. I saw the donkeys walked carefully down the hill. They walked stiff-legged too. It was fun out walking with them. I don't like them getting out, don't want them getting out, but don't mind them getting out. We had a good walk over a half mile rough ground with growth to my knees, me trusting I won't step on a rattlesnake. It's the only way I could walk through there was trust in the Divine. I've learned to trust going anywhere in peace. I had no ill intent, no ill feelings about the donkeys. Wasn't mad. We went for a walk together to see the world.

 

jack at the lake

 

I like for the donkeys to know the landscape around their meadow. I don't like them getting out, but I feel like it educates them to a degree. Everybody here on the mountain knows they're benign and  people friendly. I walked them on to the gate we went through onto the road. Up the hill and down the hill on the road we walked, donkeys taking their time, tasting vegetation along the sides of the road they recognized that they like. I did not want to push them. I was so worn out, I was in no hurry. I walked the whole course gently without stressing self or advancing my breathing. Walked at a comfortable pace uphill and downhill. The donkeys would walk with me better if I walked at their rate of walking. I'm so slow, it bores them to walk with me. They distract themselves with passing vegetation. We took our time sauntering down the road, a family outing. Fortunately, no cars needed the road. I walked them into the gate, poured some grain for them, and checked the row of fence along the backside of the rhododendron row. I had a feeling it was not there, but thought I'd check it since I was there. Came to the house, watched  a film about photographer Julius Schulman, went to town for a prescription, came home, took a nap. Went to the other end of the meadow and found the place I'm certain they went through. Patched it up and feel satisfied they will be waiting for carrots in the morning.  

 

 

jack sez, hee-haw

 

 

 

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