Bonding...

Experts will tell you that donkeys are extremely intelligent and that they bond deeply with their human.
Jingles previous owner told me that one day her ram knocked her down, injuring her. She was on the ground, and saw the ram "bunching up," ready to butt her again.  If you never been butted by a sheep or goat, please know, it is serious stuff. Some of these animals weigh close to 200 pounds, and they are muscular and fast. Getting butted hurts, and can cause serious injury. Jingles intervened, blocking her human from the ram until she could get up and out of the area.

This donkey has not been here for even 24 hours yet, but she is beginning to bond to me already.When I go out in the pasture she comes right up for attention. This morning I spent a long time brushing her. Donkeys shed their heavy winter coat around this time of year, and they enjoy it when I brush, curry and comb them to help the process along. After our beauty session I invited Bravo into the pasture. I don't know if Jingles has had previous dog experience, but she has been watching Bravo closely and with interest through the fence. 

Donkeys do not like dogs. Sarah and Abraham know my dogs, and mostly co-exist in peace, but I don't really trust them. I watched Jingles carefully when Bravo loped through the gate. She moved away from him, watchful, towards the donkey dorm. I threw his tennis ball, and he tore across the lush grass, then raced back to me. Jingles backed away even more. I threw the ball again, and took my eyes off the donkey as I admired my handsome dog, racing in the early light. He headed back towards me, full tilt, ball in mouth. And from no where, Jingles raced in, placing herself very close to me, blocking me from this obviously scary, threatening, dog. When I got over my surprise, I was quite touched. Clearly she has already decided that I am a human she needs to watch over. I think a lovely friendship is beginning.

Jingles all the way...

A few months ago a favorite customer/friend said, "I know someone who is placing all of her livestock, and she has a really nice donkey. You should get her."  For several long moments I thought this sounded like a great idea. I even called the lady and talked to her about the donkey. A female, (jenny) named Jingles, the same age as Sarah and Abraham. She had been a companion/guardian to the ladies goats for all of her life. But really, I didn't need another donkey, so I talked myself right out of bringing her home. However, my neighbor/friend was looking to add one to her farm, so I gave her the information.  She went and met Jingles, and liked her a lot. An arrangement was made for her to bring Jingles to her farm after kidding season was over and Jingles was done doing her job. I have to admit, I had a pang or two, wishing I had agreed to bring Jingles to our place. A few months went by, and the owner of the donkey called me, "I am ready for Jingles to go to her new home but I lost your friends phone number."  I assured her that I would tell my neighbor to call her, and I did. But meanwhile, my neighbor had taken in two intact Jack (uncastrated male) donkeys, so bringing a female home would be difficult.  She suggested that maybe Jingles would be happy at my place. I was curious about her, so I invited Marion to go with me to meet her. She quipped, "That's a horrible idea. What time?" Two weeks ago we drove about an hour from home and found the farm where Jingles lived, and we all met. 

She was cute as could be, but I have to admit, it was not love at first sight. I liked her, but didn't feel like I just had to bring her home. I told her owner I'd sleep on it and let her know the next morning. And I did. I couldn't help but think that Jingles would be awfully happy here, playing with other donkeys. And I really liked the look in her eye, she appeared to be very wise.  So I called her owner and said I'd like to have her live here. Two nice friends with trucks and horse trailers offered to help me get her here, and today was the day. Patient Marion was the "winner" of the offers to transport. Today was a beautiful day, we set off around 2:00 this afternoon, and enjoyed a lovely drive. We arrived on schedule.  Jingles owner was concerned that we would have difficulty getting her on the trailer, but in fact, she got on with little effort. And off we went, bringing Jingles home.

She rode nicely, and I was so excited to get her out and introduce her to everyone.

Marion led her off the trailer, and up the driveway. Then  she  took her into the back yard. The goats, and both donkeys ran to the gate with great excitement when they saw her.

Jingles brayed a long, loud, bray. Abraham answered. Marion laughed.

We let everyone say hello through the fence for a few minutes. I locked the goats up in their cozy, so the donkeys could have a little privacy to meet.

And to my delight, things went very smoothly. No kicking, no bucking. A little trotting and sniffing, but it was all quite peaceful. 

After a while I let the goats out, and Jingles perked up considerably. These were animals she was  used to being with.

The goats took an instant shine to her, and they all hung out for a while. 

Jingles checked out the toys. Explored the water tub, the grass, tried to see the donkey dorm but was driven out by Sarah. Hopefully they will soon let her share its shelter. As dusk settled, I kept peeking outside. All three donkeys are grazing in a loose bunch. Jingles explored the dorm when the other two were not looking. There has been no kicking, no biting. A little animated trotting, but mostly a very peaceful meeting of the three little mini donks. Chris, Marion and I sat outside and shared a glass of wine, watching the animals. Then the neighbor that originally planned to take Jingles popped in to see her. We all admired her pretty face and intelligent eyes. We watched the three equines interact, and smiled.  This first afternoon looks very promising. It is a happiness to see three chubby donkeys interact.

I went out a while ago, and Jingles came right up to me to get a pat. She accepted a treat,  then went off to examine her new digs in more detail. Now it is dark, but peaceful in the pasture; I am hoping that the donkeys will bond over the next few days, and will all be fast friends. I know I certainly like seeing three long-eared equines poking around the pasture.

Duck drama...

Blanche, Bianca and Bill have settled in nicely since their arrival this spring. At night they go into their coop so I can keep them safe from all the animals that would relish a hefty duck for dinner. Each morning I hear them quacking, "LET US OUT!" and I do. The lady ducks leave lovely eggs that feel like porcelain in one corner, ready for me to collect each day.

 Once released, they eat vast quantities of poultry food, then waddle to their pool where they plunge their heads up and down in the water, blowing bubbles out their nostrils, and perhaps hopping in for a little splash. Then the girls go to the small hole in the fence that we cut so the birds can have access to the pasture. They lower their heads and step through, then go exploring, side by side, across the wide expanse of grass and puddles, nibbling on green shoots and eating bugs.  Poor Bill is beside himself. His wee duck brain cannot grasp how to get through that gap. Every day he stands right there, and watches the chickens and his lady ducks exit and reenter through the wire, but he is stuck in the hen yard, pacing and calling frantically.  I have placed a mound of grain on the other side to tempt him to poke his head though and discover "freedom."  No dice. I have moved his beloved pool to the pasture side of the hole, it goes unused. I fear Bill is a little dim.

In case you are wondering why their pool water is so dark, it is because they "drill" their bills into the dirt, then sift the dirt into the water. Ducks are messy. I fill their pool with clean water every day, and within moments it looks like this. But I digress. 

This morning while I was doing chores, Bravo let me know there was something in the pasture that didn't belong.  He barked his special bark, the one that tells me there is a Raven in the grass, or a seagull, or a FOX. I froze and looked to where he was staring. At first I didn't see anything, except that Bill was desperately trying to wedge through the fence, in a place he simply would not fit.

Then I saw the grass move, and a small dark form, and realized why Bill was so excited.

A little Mallard duck had flown if for a visit! 

Blanche and Bianca bobbed their heads and quacked in pleasant tones. The Mallard quacked back, her voice a higher pitch than the Pekin's.

Poor Bill wanted to meet her up close and in person. But alas, even a lovely guest duck was not enough motivation for him to figure out the elusive poultry pathway.

After a few moments, the Mallard flapped her wings and was gone, whistling over the grass, lifting above the fence and heading towards the mill pond.  The flightless Pekin's craned their necks to watch her go. And Bill remained, prisoner of his own limited thinking, stuck in the hen yard, while inches away the other birds are able to wander to and fro at will. Poor Bill.

Garden season...

I enjoy all the seasons here in Maine, but June takes my breath away. Spring seems slow in coming here, but then all at once, things really start to happen.

 The grape vine I planted three years ago should produce some fruit this year.

The wee, dark, Morning Glory seeds I soaked until they sprouted then tucked hopefully into the cold spring soil are starting to grow. 

 The big front flower bed has been planted, and in a short time will be a riot of color.

 

 

 The garden friend Brenda created in the back is looking glorious. I recently added this fragrant climbing rose. With any luck there will be no goat escapes and the rose will flourish. Goats like roses best of all the garden treats.

 This bed by the front door looks nice. With the grooming studio windows open, warm breezes push lilac-scented air in to delight us.

 

 

The peony is covered in buds, soon there will be huge, ruffled flowers to pick.





 A lupine and kitten share this garden.

 

 

Bravo helps supervise the planting and weeding. 

Flirt likes to hop up on the picnic table, she gets a better view of things from there. 



Opal spent the night with us last night, snuggling sweetly then waking me up with puppy wiggles and joyous kisses. Puppies make me happy to be alive, and waking up laughing is the best.

 She loves being out in the yard, and spent a long time communing with the goats this morning.

 

The kids are growing by leaps and bounds.

And the wet spring has made the meadow grass grow lush and tall. Deer visit along the edge of the pasture at dusk.

It's the sunshine and the colors and the growing that makes June win me over.

Happy news and summer...

Our farrier was here the other day. It was raining, so we walked out to the donkey dorm and he trimmed Abrahams feet over the clean, fresh shavings. He said his feet looked fine.  He began to work on Sarah, and I had to run inside to take a batch of brownies out of the oven. When I came back he stood up, gave me a long look and said, "Her feet... look..." I held my breath. We've been working on her poor hooves since last fall. I've been fretting and worrying. We have added vitamin and mineral supplements. We have added oral medications. We have been putting medication on her feet, then sliding them into socks and putting on little protective boots. I have worried that her pathetic feet might do her in. To me they looked better, but I don't know much about donkey feet. I have been waiting anxiously to hear what the farrier thought. He took a breath.  "Incredible." If I were a more agile person, I'd have broken into a happy dance right there. There are still a few small spots of infection, but mostly her feet look quite healthy. I am overjoyed. We will continue to work on her, but I think we are in the clear.

 

Last weekend Rachel, Evans and I went to the Fiber Frolic. It's a wonderful festival not far from here, featuring booth after booth filled with beautiful dyed yarn, crafts, whimsical items of all kinds. There are food trucks with local ice cream, wood fired pizza, delicious little hand crafted ravioli that are like pockets full of heaven. There are Alpaca and Angora rabbits, and colorful folk of all kind. It's a feast for the senses.

Here at home the chickens are delighted with  the fine weather. They range far and wide, scratching in the dirt, eating bugs, wallowing in the dirt. They radiate happiness.





The ducks are happy about the broiler chicks being nearby, because it means there is a steady supply of food. Everyone shares. The broilers go to freezer camp in a few days. They are huge and ungainly, but look content waddling about in the grass.

One of my laying hens likes to deposit her eggs in the goat cozy. Sometimes she stops to warm her feet on the back of a friendly goat first. The kids find this amusing and give her a good sniff.

It has been a busy week, with delightful company visiting, lots of grooming for me and extra busy work for Chris. Today we laid low, it was just what I needed. I wrote an article this morning,  he puttered about. Later we went to the feed store to make sure the animals had all their needs taken care of for the coming week, then we drove to Rockland and had a bite of lunch overlooking the water. A trip to the garden store found us a climbing rose, a few pepper plants, some herbs and squash plants. After that, home to check on the animals, exercise the dogs and tuck in for a peaceful nap. A beautiful warm breeze blew in through the open windows. I finished a book, dozed a bit, day dreamed and rested. It was a happy time.

 And for supper ?

The first lobster of the season, at our old, scarred, picnic table. A low fire burned in the pit, and I got so covered up in seafood and butter I had to come inside and take a shower. It was wonderful, every bit of it. Fine weather, healthy hooves and lobster. Life is good.

Got milk..?

Last spring I had 4 doe goats to milk every morning, and that took a lot of time. This spring we only had one doe give birth, and "freshen," with milk. Technically, once the kids are two weeks old, they can be locked away from their dam at night. In the morning the doe has a full udder, and can be milked, then the little family can be reunited for the rest of the day. I've been putting off separating the kids for several reasons. Partly it makes me a little sad to keep them from their mama all night, partly because I was not excited to add in milking chores to my morning routine, remembering how much time it took me last year, but mostly because I knew that Bliss was going to be a handful on the milk stand. She is a friendly goat, but not as tame and placid as her predecessors.  The kids are 5 week old now, and it is high time that I started milking, so last night I locked the kids into the goat cozy with their grandmother, a bucket of water and a few flakes of hay. I have to admit, it made things pretty simple this morning. I filled the grain bucket on the milk stand for Bliss, dished up the donkeys little breakfast bowls, and didn't have to wrestle with 4 goats at the gate, because three were locked up.  I let Bliss into the back yard, put the donkey breakfast bowls down in the pasture, led Bliss to the stand and showed her where the food was. She happily tucked in to the grain, and I worked fast to hobble her rear legs so she couldn't kick my teeth out. It took some doing, but I was ultimately successful.

Her teats are tiny, and I could only use my thumb first two fingers, but she let her milk down nicely and only attempted to kick me a few times. Then she ran out of grain and threw quite a tantrum. I scooped more into her bowl, and that helped for a few minutes, until she realized she was quite full and didn't like me messing with her udder one bit.  I prevailed a bit longer, then, when she was acting calm I quit and let her off the bench.

Her kids were happy to see her, and tucked right in for some breakfast, their little tails wagging a mile a minute.  Of course I'd left them some milk, and Bliss will make for them all day.

So now a new routine is in place, and hopefully Bliss will learn to have nice milk stand manners. There will be yogurt, cheese and goat milk soap in our future!

Foundations...

Today Chris drove me home to Boxford, so we could attend a memorial service for my uncle, Bob Manning.  He was the last relative of my parents generation to pass, the end of an era. The service was held at the First Congregational Church, where I attended as a child. It has been many years since I was there... it was smaller inside than I remembered, but it smelled the same, and the light slanted in through the tall windows in a familiar fashion. My sister whispered, "This was Barbie's pew," (Barbie is what we called our paternal grandmother) as she settled in. "She liked to be in the back." Here was a nugget of family history I had not known. It made me smile. I sat next to my brother, one of my favorite people in the world, and that made me happy. Before the service he made me laugh and our big sister shushed us. That made me laugh again. Three gray headed siblings, and the oldest still helping us mind our manners.

Uncle Bob's children, and some grand children were there. Several of them stood to read bible verses. One of his nephews did, as well, and then his niece, Leslie, who shared memories, some of her own and others which she had collected from family. Uncle Bob was rather brilliant, and had been awarded multiple patents. He was soft spoken and kind, devoted to his family. Leslie made us smile and chuckle and mist up, remembering. It was good. I saw cousins I have not seen in many years, and realistically, may never see again. That was a bit of a sad thought, but it was nice to see them with their growing families, and remember a time when we were all closer. 

Later in day I saw something interesting.



A flowering pear tree, it's original trunk severed jaggedly, probably by some winter storm. But there, around the ruined edge, were a thick cluster of slim, new branches, covered in bright, young leaves and fragrant blossoms. It made me think of our family, the original growth now gone, but roots spread deep in the New England soil, and new life sprouting up all around it.