NAMING THE DONKEY MISS ED

miss ed third day

 

How fast a baby donkey is walking independently has been catching my attention day after day. Each day the baby donkey is bigger, more stable on its feet, more in line with mama's movements and more in tune to mama's teaching. First couple of days when baby stepped inside mama's forbidden zone while she was having her grain, Jenny popped baby with a hoof. They were not power kicks, not even kicks, but a firm nudge saying go no further. Today, Friday, baby's fourth day, Jenny merely lifts her back hoof off the ground, just a gesture, and baby backs out of range. I've seen that baby stands midway between Jenny and Jack, just out of range of their back legs, while they are grazing. Baby's first learning as a young donkey was that donkeys kick, it's what donkeys do. And donkeys need to learn to take a kick before they are able to kick. Jenny's instruction these first few days I am looking at as "mother's milk," instruction so early in development it shapes us into who we are unconsciously, pre rational thinking.

 

this was inside jenny

 

A few months before baby was born, I asked the three year old child of my friend Meredith, who is living in the greater San Francisco area of several cities grown into one, to name Jenny's baby when it arrives. I've known Meredith all her life as the daughter of my friends Lucas and Judy. Teddy, her three year old, was kind of struck dumb being asked out of the blue to name a donkey. I realized then it was a tall order, conceptually, for a three year old. Hadn't considered that. I thought it might have been presumptuous to ask a three year old to stretch his mind that far. He said, "I'll have to think about it." I thought it remarkable for a three year old to say he'll have to think about it. Maybe I did pick the right kid to ask. I wanted to ask the youngest person I know. Teddy. I wanted a name I would never think of on my own, a name separate from my mind. A couple days later, Teddy spoke. He said, "Mr Ed if it's a boy. Miss Ed if it's a girl." I wondered how a three year old in San Francisco knew about Mr Ed the talking horse. Montessori pre-school maybe?

 

miss ed's natural born camouflage

 

Of course, my editing mind went to work over-riding original intent, thinking I wanted a girl's name, a variation of Ed. Didn't care for Edna or Edith, but liked Edie. Thought I'd change from Miss Ed to Edie. Edie sounded good in my mind. But out in the meadow with the baby, I could not call it Edie. The name did not fit. Miss Ed fit. I found my mind automatically thought of the baby as Miss Ed. I'd look at her and Miss Ed was how I'd think of her. Then by association, Edie Sedgwick came to mind and would not leave. She was a rich California air-head who went to NY in the time of Andy Warhol's Factory, was given a big spread in Vogue as the latest new thing in New York. She fell in with the Factory bunch, upper middle-class junkie runaways, became a junkie right away and the subject of Bob Dylan's song, Like a Rolling Stone. She fell through the bottom and went back home to California, unable to take care of herself, and lived in an empty swimming pool. She symbolizes for me the ultimate loser. I did not feel right naming my baby donkey after a psycho air-head junkie. It didn't feel right to name Jenny's baby after a child who had been raped by her daddy throughout her childhood. When I thought of the baby donkey as Edie, Edie Sedgwick popped up in my mind's eye. I did not resonate with the association.  

 

miss ed's ears

 

All the time my mind was chewing on the name Edie, Miss Ed was there as the baby's name all along. The original intent behind asking a three year old to name the  baby donkey was to bypass my own mind. While the baby was being born, she was Miss Ed. She was Miss Ed before she was born. Every time I looked at the baby, I automatically thought, Miss Ed. I asked a baby to name a baby in order to bypass my own ego. Naturally, ego had to jump in to assert itself, take over, say Mine, spray paint my initials on it gangsta style. Once I made the decision to go with Edie, Edie Sedgwick grew and grew in my mind's eye. I went to YouTube to see videos of her in the Warhol time. Her image grew in my mind until I wanted mind free of images of a psychological plane crash, someone whose surface was privileged, and below the thin surface the heart of darkness. I can't burden my baby donkey with those associations in my head. By the end of the third day I realized my error of editing original purpose. I sighed relief and inhaled understanding that Miss Ed really is the donkey's name. I only think of her as Miss Ed. By now, after thinking about it all day yesterday, I am repelled by the thought of naming the donkey Edie. Miss Ed she is. She is so much Miss Ed I wonder if Teddy had intuitional access to Jenny's baby.

 

mama jen

 

 

photos by tj worthington

 

 

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BABY DONKEY'S THIRD DAY

 

baby donkey two days old

 

I'm happy for Jenny that her baby arrived without a problem or any sort of complication. She fell into mother mode the moment her baby was out in the air. She is still my friend Jenny with a new aspect of her personality come forward. Her attention is on her baby at all times. She's the same with me as always. She's a good teacher. She's a rough teacher, but she's a rough donkey with a rough baby. In the first hours, baby wanted to walk in front of mama's legs. Jenny hit it with the side of her head to push it to the side. I used to wonder how mothers taught their babies without language. Of course, babies don't have language, so language is out of the picture. Baby would walk back in front of her feet and Jenny would knock it to the side, teaching it over and over, as many times as it takes, teaching it to walk beside her, not so close in front. Today baby walks to the side of mother's head when not out front leading the way or behind mama.

 

mother and child

 

Jenny is comfortable with me near her baby. I don't do anything to push her into discomfort. My approach in Jenny's early days, weeks, months with her baby is to stand back, admire, talk to Jenny, call her Beautiful Jen, let her know I mean no harm to her baby. I think of Jane Goodall sitting among the chimpanzees, being still, body language saying not a threat. I keep arms down and when I use them go slowly like there is no rush. I've discovered recently that when we humans move fast like we do, jerk around like we do, make unpredictable arm movements, the animals become wary of us. The donkeys have taught me the pace of their flow. I move as though there is no hurry about anything, I have all day, may lie down for a nap if I take a notion, and the donkeys pay me no mind. They see me, but feel no alarm. It's when I move fast and unpredictably they watch closely and stand back with a wary edge. Sitting still or moving slowly, both donkeys are available to be touched. Moving fast, they back away from my hand. I've learned this as a form of communication between us. Body language is important to them. I show them I'm in physical tune with their flow.

 

new in the world

 

Baby is learning to meditate early in life. Mama grazes on what's left of the green grass and the hay I take to them in the mornings, baby has nothing to do. Baby can't graze, can't be nursing all the time, so baby stands in place, stands still and almost falls asleep standing up. I've watched baby stand motionless for a long time. It's what donkeys do. They stand still all day. Stand in place and graze, move a step or two, stand in place and graze, take another step or two and graze some more. They are in motion all day and are still all day. Baby is learning that donkeys stand around a lot. Nothing much going on but grazing. No marauding dogs, no predators, no bull donkeys moving in on Jack's territory. They have a peaceful home, a meadow with a fence around it to keep everything and everybody out, shelter, a primate to give them carrots and hay in winter when the grass is gone. I don't want to push myself onto the baby donkey. I'd rather she slowly get to know me, see me every day, see Mama Jen is not afraid of me nor is Jack. I am part of her world and she will know me as such. She will learn from Jenny I'm to be trusted. That's when I'll start getting to know baby more personally. Baby and Jenny need each other's undivided attention now.  

 

baby meditates while mom and dad eat their grain

 

Today, Thursday, I went out into the meadow and sat on the exposed root of a big maple to watch them. Jenny and baby walked out into the meadow, I set the camera on video and followed what they did. Jenny is aware the camera is an eye that sees her, but I think that's as far as she can get with it. She walked up to me, wanted to feel it with her lips and then her teeth, wanted to see what it was made of, maybe good to eat. I know what she's doing, so I don't freak out from fear she'll eat my camera. She just wants to feel it, see what it's made of, understand it. It spooks her a little bit, aware it sees her, and she doesn't know what it is. While watching the baby I was feeling the chosen name in relation to the donkey herself. Edie never rang right with me. Miss Ed sounded and felt just exactly right for the donkey I was looking at. I ran them both over and over in my mind, listening to their sounds and feeling them. Miss Ed feels right. Edie feels like a name tag. Miss Ed feels like the donkey herself. I am feeling like I'm going to let it be Miss Ed, maybe Miss Edie her grownup name. My feeling is it will be Miss Ed. When I see her, I think Miss Ed automatically. I'll ruminate on this some more.

 

miss ed

 

photos by tj worthington

 

 

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A DONKEY NAMED EDIE

baby edie and mama jen

 

Today, Wednesday, I took carrots to the donkeys in the morning. All three were out in the meadow. Jack came running. Jenny and baby walked. Every time Jack arrives first for carrot, he's difficult for Jenny, won't let her near the carrots. Jenny stood a ways behind Jack and I tossed the carrots to Jenny over Jack. He gets weird when he's the first one at the fence. He will not let Jenny near the fence. When she's the first one, she's fine with Jack at the fence and Jack is not a problem toward her. Both are unreasonably jealous when they're eating. Sometimes eating his grain in the afternoon, he turns so jealous he snorts and growls at me if I am too close to his grain even the other side of the fence. Jenny, the jealous natured one, won't let Jack near her grain, but is fine with me nearby. It seems odd every time Jack acts up over his food, he has no apparent jealousy in him. Only eating. Jack backed up a little too close to Jenny at grain time, she popped him on the rump with a back hoof, and he popped her in turn. The baby stepped a little too close to Jenny and she popped it on the rump. Baby wobbled and looked around like to say, What was that?

 

one-eyed jack

 

I thought when baby was looking bewildered, You'll get used to it, baby. This is your donkey lifetime. The kicking has begun. Baby came to me at the fence. I touched the top of its head, rubbed it's neck, talked to it. It's first touch of the human hand. Like all animals the first time they're touched and rubbed they think nothing of it. We train them to let us pet them. I leaned my head down close to the ground to look up between donkey's legs. Saw nothing but white fur. Lifted the tail and saw nothing. So I figure it's a girl. Her name now is Edie. If it were a boy, the name would be Ed. I did not know what to do for a name and decided to ask the youngest person I know to name the baby. Lucas and Judy Carpenter's girl, Meredith, I've known since she was a baby, has a three year old baby, Teddy. Teddy is a sharp little kid. Judy talks with him on the cell phone regularly. I asked her to ask him if he would like to name the baby donkey. He was taken aback by the suggestion unto stumped. It was like a whole new concept for his child mind to be asked to name a donkey. He said, "I'll have to think about it."

 

two hours old

 

Three days later, he gave his answer: Mr Ed if it's a boy and Miss Ed if it's a girl. I can't quite see myself calling a donkey Miss Ed, though it is a fun name. I decided to go with Edie, the same as Miss Ed in one word. I wondered how a three year old child in San Francisco knew about Mr Ed the talking horse. It puzzles me. He's been in Montessori school at least a year. Maybe they show old movies like Ma And Pa Kettle Go To New York, movies I saw in childhood. I doubt he knows about the Little Rascals. I checked out some Little Rascals videos from the library earlier this year. It's a sight how politically incorrect they were, sexist and racist unbelievably from today's perspective. They were so insensitive, even I, repelled by political correctness, was sometimes wide-eyed over what I was seeing, my grandparents' generation. The little black boys pushed the little white boys in wagons. The little white girls were pre-pubescent sex objects. The kids were even a bit unsettling in that regard. Of course, they were directed and scripted by adults. 

 

jack rolls in a dust circle

 

I was watching a movie a little while ago with Sofia on my lap, thinking how fun it is now with a kitten, a baby donkey and Vada. In my advanced years, suddenly I am lured into play every morning with a wide-open kitten. On Sundays I see Vada. This last Sunday, she took hold of my hand before I could take my coat off, wanting me to go with her to her room and play. She wanted to show me her toys. Later, during football, she brought out her hand-puppet turtle, wanted me to put it on my hand and let her feed it fart putty. The turtle acted like it was chewing the fart putty. Whenever Vada would look away, I'd take the flattened chunk of fart putty out of the turtle's mouth and hide it under my leg. The turtle swallowed and Vada gave it more fart putty. This went on until the fart putty ran out. When she looked away, I stuffed all the fart putty I'd collected into the turtle's mouth and said to Vada, "Turtle's not feeling good. He's gonna puke." Mouth opened, a glob of fart putty fell out. Vada squealed delight and began feeding the turtle again. "Make it puke." At home, I flip a string for a kitten and soon will be playing with a baby donkey. I did not foresee that in my seventies I would learn how to play. 

  

vada

 

 

 

 

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