DONKEY MOODS DAY TO DAY

jenny chews a carrot

Today is day off. I have gone someplace every day this week past. I don't sleep well when I have schedules; worry about not waking up in time makes it hard to get to sleep sometimes. Actually, a few times, maybe two I can recall, mind running everywhere keeping itself awake from fear of falling asleep and not waking up in time. Those nights I get up after awhile and write or read until I can't stay awake another minute, then crash and wake up on time too tired to get up. It doesn't happen much, so it's ok. It's just an odd thing. If I'm leaving to go someplace for a short period of time, I wait til the morning to leave for packing; if I pack the night before, I can't sleep. I don't care about investigating and curing this psychological quirk. It's harmless. It's easy to sidestep. I so seldom have a problem with sleeping, though when I do, I just get up and do something until it wears me out. Took two naps today, one early, one late. Took hay and carrots to the donkeys twice. Jack came braying to me this morning when I approached the fence. He has joy in his eyes when he brays. A donkey bray sounds like a celebration of joy. Every morning when I go to the fence he walks quickly with his neck and head sticking straight forward like a Marini horse sculpture, mouth wrenched into position to wail on his tenor sax. Finished, he takes the chunk of carrot from my fingers with his lips. Jenny took her carrot chunks with her lips today, too. Yesterday, both took the carrot with their teeth with aggression in their eyes, not threat, but the I-want-it-now look. Whatever it was that had them worked up yesterday had subsided by this morning. Both were back to their gentle selves and using lips instead of teeth. Their upper lip can be used as a finger to pick things up with. They pick up the pieces of sweet grain I put on the ground for them. After it's all gone, they scour their ground picking up the stray pieces they find with the fingers they can make with their lips. They use the upper lip to twist a tuft of grass to more efficiently cut it loose with a bite. 

 

jenny eats her morning hay

 

Jenny was her gentle self this morning. I leaned down speaking into her nostrils and she raised her nose to touch my nose. Yesterday the gesture was with bared teeth making a dive for my nose. Today she touched my nose with her nose. A donkey's nose is soft like a horse's nose. The nose is sensitive as a fingertip. Jenny likes to run her nose lightly over my whiskers to feel them so lightly I hardly feel her. They have taught me to check their mood first thing. It's not from fear of them, but to seek where they are coming from at the beginning. Some days Jack and Jenny can stand side by side chewing carrots in comfort. Other days I need two donkey lengths between them at carrot time. The change I'm noting in this time is that it is less and less that I need to be aware of giving them the carrot with a distance between them. Today there was less than one donkey length between them. When Jenny is having jealousy attacks, she'll kick Jack and the calf when they enter her range. She kicks less and less. She used to kick Jack every time he came within range. Putting down the hay for them, I keep a distance between each mound of hay, primarily to give Jenny peace of mind. If Jack or the calf were about to enter her zone, she'd snort and blow her warning. Her zone is the circle with a radius the length of her body pivoting on front feet. She swings her rear end around instantly, quick as a cat. Yesterday while Jenny was chewing her hay, I went to walk by her and she swung her ass end around at me. I didn't jump. She wasn't going to kick. It was her way of telling me to stay out of her zone. She's hungry, she's eating and wants me to leave her alone. I don't mind her swinging her rear end around on me. It's an automatic defensive move. I don't want to force my mind on her. I respect her space. I've asked her to teach me donkey. She's teaching: Get back, now.

 

jack chews his morning hay

 

Yesterday, both Jennie and Jack were spirited. Today, they still had the spirit they had yesterday, but gentler, no aggressive impulses. I like both. I like it when Jack wants too close to me and Jenny heads him off, both of them frisky on either side of me, around me, inches away, doing their kick dance, Jenny's ears back, hind end hopping up and down. I get a charge out of seeing it up close, their hips and sides right next to me, their feet dancing around my feet, heavy, big, feisty animals, African herd animals. This is why I want them to know the ice cream man is no threat to them in any way. If I carried a stick and hit them, they'd be bumping into me and stepping on my feet when they're frisky with each other. Because the ice cream man respects their space, they respect my space. They are fully aware of their bodies in relation to what is around them. Jack threatened Jenny that he was going to get a bite of her hay yesterday, and she swung her ass end around at me almost heedlessly. I stopped her momentum placing my hand on her rump to say it's going too far, the ice cream man feels threatened. She calmed right down. Anymore, I don't move out of her way or brace myself to be kicked when she swings around on me. She's not going to kick me. If I were to swat her with a stick one time, I wouldn't feel as safe as I do now. She might let her self accidentally (on purpose) step on my foot or knock me down with a kick. They are very physical beings. Their bodies are their minds. If I want to get physical with them, I lose. I like to keep our relationship on the mental plane where we're about even and  communicate well by predictable habit and signals, some telepathy too. I feel as safe now with Jenny as with Jack. It tells me trust is established between us.

 

jack says howdy

 

On the road yesterday I saw a brown, long-haired donkey in a field with some black cattle. It looked like a South American donkey, a burro. By long hair, I mean a little longer than Jenny's. This donkey was a much darker brown than Jenny. Jenny is the brown of hot chocolate. This donkey was the brown of a football. Even furry looking ears. I've been studying Jack and Jenny from a distance, finding characteristics of each that I can note at a distance where they look the same. Jenny's brow is narrower than Jacks. Her face is narrow like a horse's. Jack's face is thick above the eyes and tapers down to his nose. Jenny's back legs don't have as much dog-leg in them as Jack's. His back legs have a pronounced angle in that bend. The angle in Jenny's dog-leg is about half way between Jack's and straight. Jack's back knees touch much of the time when he is standing still. Jenny's do not. She has the back legs of a mammoth donkey. Jenny's ears are either straight up or back. Jack's ears flop around every which way, individually; they're often back when Jenny is acting out her jealousies about her privileges as Alpha. Jack never challenges Jenny's status. This morning Jack took his carrot first. They were out in the meadow past the dogwood tree and Jack saw me first. He took off galloping and braying at once. Jenny took off behind him. He approached the fence in full bray. Jenny was still a ways behind him, so he got his carrot first. That one wasn't a problem, because he was first as a result of being the only one there. Jenny did not seem put out that Jack already had his carrot when she arrived. Their gentleness today in contrast to yesterday's aggression reminded me how different they are in their relationship with each other from one day to the next. I started giving them carrot before taking the hay into the meadow to preoccupy them. Since doing it awhile, I'm finding it makes a good time to read their mood for the day. Every day is emotionally unique for them.       

 

jenny having hay

 

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DONKEY KARMA

donkey jack in the snow

 

A little bit of snowfall after dark last night delivered a second half inch. A couple days ago we received a half inch in the night. It was gone by end of  next day, except for in shadows. I understand in some places this morning the road was ice. Not long after dark last night, white headlights went down the road followed by red taillights giving enough light to see several red snowflakes following the car. This morning the ground was white again, and snow lined the bigger tree branches. It was not a wet snow that sticks where it lands, but more like a dry snow, except the flakes stuck together too much to drift. It was slick to walk on. It made a thin film of ice underfoot, though was easy to walk on in the meadow. The donkeys left prints like it was beach sand. They don't seem concerned by the cold. Their coat is full. I suppose they keep each other warm in the night. They appear to be acclimatized. I like that they look comfortable at home by now. Jack and Jenny look to be comfortable with each other. Jenny still gets antsy with him when he's too close. She's the same with the calf. She starts hopping up and down in back, kicking light jabs, not serious, just to say, Outta my space, in body language. I've noticed in the last few days Jenny keeps her ears back much of the time. Even when she's alone. It's not for me the ears are back. I can walk beside her carrying hay out into the meadow, her ears are back. She doesn't have a problem with me being too close to her hay. My feeling is she's keeping Jack informed to stay back.

 

calf 21 and jenny

 

The calf has taken up with Jenny for its friend. Jenny appears to have some feeling for the calf. I see them together fairly often. The calf's loneliness seems to have cleared up by now. It has taken to Jenny and Jack in its grief losing its friend. The donkeys know 21 lost its friend. They lost their friend too. The calf appears to be showing a little bit of awareness, like it is waking out of the daze I've only known it to be in. I feel like Jenny has something to do with this. It looks like the calf is drawn to her as something like an older cousin. Jenny's attitude toward the calf is it's ok if the calf wants to hang around her, just respect her space, don't be bumping her or pressing her. Sometimes I see the calf at the big round bale of hay by itself and notice it doesn't have the heavy air of loneliness about it. It snuggles with Jenny and Jack in the night. I have the feeling Jenny feels some compassion for the lonesome calf. The calf is going into a new growth phase, becoming more aware, paying attention. It's more alert since it's been subject to Jenny's care. I'm glad to see Jenny is extending herself to the calf. Their closeness might salve Jenny's loss of her goat friend, too. I enjoy watching their interactions. Jenny is Alpha donkey in the meadow and keeps the calf and Jack aware of her status. The calf gets tamer from watching Jack and Jenny interact with me. I include the calf when I take carrots to Jack and Jenny, and give the calf grain with the donkeys. The three individuals in the meadow give the appearance that they are independent individuals and they identify with each other as meadow partners, a herd.  

 

jack and jenny yin yang

 

Justin pointed out yesterday that Jenny might be what is called a mammoth donkey. I googled it and found Jenny does indeed have mammoth donkey in her. Mammoths are huge donkeys with longer hair. They are the size of a horse, and are ridden like horses. Jenny looks like she might have half or quarter mammoth in her. Jack seems more like donkey donkey. Jack's forehead is broader than Jenny's. Jenny's whole head is narrower than Jack's and favors a horse's head. You can see the silhouette of her equine head below, in the shadow on her shoulder. Jenny and Jack have confirmed for me what I learned from dogs and cats, that love is the best form of training. I've made no effort to "train" either of the donkeys in any conscious way. I break carrots into three pieces and hold them for the donkeys without apprehension anymore that a finger or thumb may get bit. I never even feel their lips with my fingers. They take the carrot with their teeth that don't touch fingertips. Today, after putting hay down for Jenny, I walked around behind her up close to see what she'd do. Nothing. She seems as  comfortable with me now as Jack is. Earlier, carrying an armload of hay into the meadow, Jack walked up between Jenny and me. Jenny started hopping up and down behind, ears back, grunting at him to get out of her space. I did not move out of the way this time. I stayed where I was to see how aware she was of not kicking me. She didn't even show a suggestion she might kick me. She sent Jack on his way and kept her place beside me, ears back telling Jack it's Alpha Donkey's place next to the ice cream man.

 

jenny mammoth donkey mix

 

I know the affection I receive from my donkey friends is for being the ice cream man. I feed them and give them treats. The old saying I remember from childhood, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, works with the four-leggeds, too. I feed them, they appreciate it. I treat them with respect and they treat me with respect. I regard them with a loving feeling and they regard me the same. I saw a video on one of the fail compilations on YouTube of a man whipping a big goat. He turned to walk away and the goat charged him with the force it would use to hit another goat. It knocked him on his face in the dirt. Somebody might say animals can't love, but I say that somebody has a different notion of the soul from mine. In my view of the soul, its very nature is love. Love responds to love. Soul responds to soul. I have one hundred percent confidence neither Jenny nor Jack would charge me and knock me down. I don't question that they might knock me down in fun, except that by now they know my weight, my vulnerabilities, that I am not as hardy as they are. I don't talk much about the donkeys where love is concerned. A lot of people don't believe animals are souls because of a preacher whose head is still in colonial times when only white humans had souls. I speak into Jenny's nostrils, "I love you darlin Jen," and her eye gives me a look that says she understood my meaning and feels the same toward me. If she were a cat, she would be purring. The meadow has become a love arena for me. I make eye contact every day with both of them, and every day our hearts touch. I don't want to train them to jump through rings of fire. I show them that they can trust me and voila: I can trust them. I do unto them as I would have them do unto me, and wha'd'ya know, they do as I would want them to.

 

jack

 

 

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