BLOSSOM
2018
Texas:
Let me begin by telling you a bit about myself. I am an older / middle aged, mostly grey mother of several grown babies. I spend most of my days hanging out in and around the barn with a few horses. There are usually dogs running around and a radio playing quietly in the corner to keep me company.
My name is Blossom.
How I came to live at this barn is really an amazing story. It is the story of my life and it makes my ears tickle with happiness to tell it.
My early memories are of a place, somewhere in the hot, dry part of the world. I remember being in a pen that was full of other donkeys, mules and horses. Some were mean, some were scared (I felt most sorry for them), some were really thin, some had babies at their sides and some, like me, had them in our bellies. The smell of fear and death was all around us. We were thrown hay once a day but some of the others were really fast to get to it, they bared their teeth swung their butts towards the rest of us. When I got really lucky I would sneak quietly around them and grab a mouthful but most of the time, I only got the bits that blew my way. Water was scarce too but being a donkey, I was used to going without much water, the horses were the ones that were the thirstiest. I remember men shouting numbers and one of them put a halter on me. I was scared to move so I just set my little hooves in the hard earth and pretended he wasn’t yanking on me. He got louder and grabbed my ears and pulled them, I had to go with him. I’m glad I did because he passed me over to a nice man who could talk donkey talk. In a kind, gentle voice he said “you are going on a long ride on the truck, a place that will be very cold but there are really nice people and lots of hay to eat.” I quickly jumped onto the truck.
Texas:
Let me begin by telling you a bit about myself. I am an older / middle aged, mostly grey mother of several grown babies. I spend most of my days hanging out in and around the barn with a few horses. There are usually dogs running around and a radio playing quietly in the corner to keep me company.
My name is Blossom.
How I came to live at this barn is really an amazing story. It is the story of my life and it makes my ears tickle with happiness to tell it.
My early memories are of a place, somewhere in the hot, dry part of the world. I remember being in a pen that was full of other donkeys, mules and horses. Some were mean, some were scared (I felt most sorry for them), some were really thin, some had babies at their sides and some, like me, had them in our bellies. The smell of fear and death was all around us. We were thrown hay once a day but some of the others were really fast to get to it, they bared their teeth swung their butts towards the rest of us. When I got really lucky I would sneak quietly around them and grab a mouthful but most of the time, I only got the bits that blew my way. Water was scarce too but being a donkey, I was used to going without much water, the horses were the ones that were the thirstiest. I remember men shouting numbers and one of them put a halter on me. I was scared to move so I just set my little hooves in the hard earth and pretended he wasn’t yanking on me. He got louder and grabbed my ears and pulled them, I had to go with him. I’m glad I did because he passed me over to a nice man who could talk donkey talk. In a kind, gentle voice he said “you are going on a long ride on the truck, a place that will be very cold but there are really nice people and lots of hay to eat.” I quickly jumped onto the truck.
Maine:
We drove for days it seems, stopping only to get a drink and a flake of hay. My legs ached from standing; my belly was getting bigger by the day. All I wanted was to lie down and rest. Finally the truck stopped one last time and the man opened the doors. The world was white, causing my eyes to squint, but I heard from somewhere in a faraway field other horses and donkeys talking, and they sounded happy. I didn’t want to get off the truck for a while, the white world scared me and when I’m scared I tend to plant my feet but I couldn’t resist the smell of fresh hay. Slowly I walked off the truck into the white stuff, my breath froze to my whiskers and the tips of my ears were cold but I kept going towards the sounds and the warm soft yellow lights of the barn. Finally, after weeks trying to survive, of trying to keep my unborn baby safe, I stepped into a big box stall, full of straw and fresh water and I felt safe.
In the days that followed I ate, slept and visited with all the other animals there. We had all come from different places, some not so great, but now we were all happy. I was introduced to white bread, yup, white bread. Never, in my entire life had I had anything that tasted that good. The people in this strange world were always busy, feeding and watering all the animals that would come through the barn. Some stayed, some left on trailers with people who seemed excited to give them treats and rub their necks.
As the days got warmer and the snow turned to mud, my belly got BIG. I felt like I had swallowed a barrel, my tiny hooves sunk in the mud from the weight of my huge girth. Late one night I snuck out of the barn into the field and alone, by the edge of the woods, Flower was born. The people at the barn found us the next morning, they gave me white bread….lots of white bread and hay and all kinds of treats. With Flower close to my side, we walked back to the barn and rested in a stall with lots of straw and water and smiling people looking over the side of the rail. (and they kept giving me white bread.
Flower and I spent the summer grazing in the fields and hanging with a few wild mules that kept to themselves. I would have been completely happy to stay, however, Flower was starting to get bigger and she was becoming quite the sassy ass. It was early fall, the leaves where starting to turn bright orange and yellow, and a trailer pulled into the yard. Two girls got out and headed our way. The people at the barn tried to catch Flower and I but I could tell something was up….. I knew where there was a hole in the fence on the far side of the field. Flower and I slipped through and everything got a little crazy. People were chasing us and laughing and trying to lure us both in with treats. Finally I ran in a fence and the gate was quickly closed and a hand reached out with white bread, damn that white bread. I couldn’t help myself and the halter got slipped over my nose. The Two girls led me towards the trailer, they were nice but didn’t know any donkey language at all, they spoke to the horses but horses and donkeys have a totally different language. I followed and could hear the laughter and wildness continue as they chased Sassy Flower around the field with the wild mules. I got on the trailer and the door closed…… Flower had won, they didn’t catch her.
We drove for a while, the roads got really windy and I was getting tired when the trailer stopped and one of the girls put a rope on me and led me into a huge stall filled with shavings. There was water and hay in the corner. It was quiet; there were no other horses or donkeys, no sassy Flower pestering me. I took a deep breath and sighed.
Finally, I was home.
We drove for days it seems, stopping only to get a drink and a flake of hay. My legs ached from standing; my belly was getting bigger by the day. All I wanted was to lie down and rest. Finally the truck stopped one last time and the man opened the doors. The world was white, causing my eyes to squint, but I heard from somewhere in a faraway field other horses and donkeys talking, and they sounded happy. I didn’t want to get off the truck for a while, the white world scared me and when I’m scared I tend to plant my feet but I couldn’t resist the smell of fresh hay. Slowly I walked off the truck into the white stuff, my breath froze to my whiskers and the tips of my ears were cold but I kept going towards the sounds and the warm soft yellow lights of the barn. Finally, after weeks trying to survive, of trying to keep my unborn baby safe, I stepped into a big box stall, full of straw and fresh water and I felt safe.
In the days that followed I ate, slept and visited with all the other animals there. We had all come from different places, some not so great, but now we were all happy. I was introduced to white bread, yup, white bread. Never, in my entire life had I had anything that tasted that good. The people in this strange world were always busy, feeding and watering all the animals that would come through the barn. Some stayed, some left on trailers with people who seemed excited to give them treats and rub their necks.
As the days got warmer and the snow turned to mud, my belly got BIG. I felt like I had swallowed a barrel, my tiny hooves sunk in the mud from the weight of my huge girth. Late one night I snuck out of the barn into the field and alone, by the edge of the woods, Flower was born. The people at the barn found us the next morning, they gave me white bread….lots of white bread and hay and all kinds of treats. With Flower close to my side, we walked back to the barn and rested in a stall with lots of straw and water and smiling people looking over the side of the rail. (and they kept giving me white bread.
Flower and I spent the summer grazing in the fields and hanging with a few wild mules that kept to themselves. I would have been completely happy to stay, however, Flower was starting to get bigger and she was becoming quite the sassy ass. It was early fall, the leaves where starting to turn bright orange and yellow, and a trailer pulled into the yard. Two girls got out and headed our way. The people at the barn tried to catch Flower and I but I could tell something was up….. I knew where there was a hole in the fence on the far side of the field. Flower and I slipped through and everything got a little crazy. People were chasing us and laughing and trying to lure us both in with treats. Finally I ran in a fence and the gate was quickly closed and a hand reached out with white bread, damn that white bread. I couldn’t help myself and the halter got slipped over my nose. The Two girls led me towards the trailer, they were nice but didn’t know any donkey language at all, they spoke to the horses but horses and donkeys have a totally different language. I followed and could hear the laughter and wildness continue as they chased Sassy Flower around the field with the wild mules. I got on the trailer and the door closed…… Flower had won, they didn’t catch her.
We drove for a while, the roads got really windy and I was getting tired when the trailer stopped and one of the girls put a rope on me and led me into a huge stall filled with shavings. There was water and hay in the corner. It was quiet; there were no other horses or donkeys, no sassy Flower pestering me. I took a deep breath and sighed.
Finally, I was home.
Donkey Talk
The next few weeks were spent trying to teach this new person Donkey Language! Holy Hooves, she just can’t get the hang of it.
Every morning she would lead me to my pasture (which by the way had some really awesome grass) and every evening she would lead me back to that huge stall, full of shavings and hay in the corner. Except for white bread, a fresh bed of shavings to roll in is probably my favorite thing to do in life. I Love to spread it all out, the smell of pine tickling my nose hairs, and when I get it just right I lower by great big barrel of a belly and roll and roll and ‘sigh’ roll.
So back to this person, this lady that leads me and feeds me and gives me the shavings (and sometimes some white bread), she knows horse talk (a little) but she just can’t get the hang of donkey talk. When I am scared or unsure of anything, I plant my feet and don’t move. Well, evidently, a horse (which is a much simpler animal – might I say not quite as smart?) can be tricked to move or go where they are told. If a donkey doesn’t want to move for whatever reason, a donkey doesn’t move. I think I have heard the word ‘stubborn ass’ before but stubborn has nothing to do with it. Why on earth would I go somewhere that I didn’t want to go? There were times when we would get half way to the pasture, and I would give her a lesson in donkey talk. I planted my feet and looked at her. She would yell at me… nope… not moving. She would move my head side to side… nope… not moving. She would yank on me…. Yea, nope….. not moving a foot. She even would put a carrot in front of me ….. Really? Yea… not moving. Sigh…. How long before she gets it?
Eventually she would give up, turn around and just stand there. Finally! I would follow as long as she didn’t pull or turn around and look at me. Just walk and I will be behind you.
Her lessons continued in the afternoon when she wanted to catch me in the pasture. First she would try to walk straight up to me…. I walked away. Then she tried chasing me… she can’t run very fast. Sometimes she tried hiding the lead rope behind her, hehehehaw really? Does that work with horses? Then she gave up and sat in the middle of the pasture with some white bread in her hand…..There… you’re getting it.
Her lessons continued and she slowly learned. Don’t tell me…. Ask me and I will do anything.
As the days went by we would hang out on the front lawn and eat grass and she would take this funny thing and rub it all over my body… mmmm that felt good. I had never felt a brush before. She always had some white bread in her pocket and that made me prick my long ears forward when I saw her coming. She laughed at me a lot, I’m not sure what was so funny but as long as she kept the white bread coming, I guess I could handle the laughing.
One day a man drove onto the yard and pulled out some tools and headed my way…. Ummmm what’s happening now? He could speak a little donkey so I let him pick my feet up and tickle my toes… He was a nice person and I decided I liked him… until I heard him say ‘you shouldn’t be giving her white bread anymore. She will get fat.’ WHAT? Ok mister, you can put my hoof down now and leave.
As the days got shorter and the nights got colder, I started to get a little lonely in my great big stall. I had started calling my person Mumzy. I liked having her all to myself; I looked forward to seeing her every morning and every evening. Sometime she scratched me all over with that tool of hers. I even let her pick my feet up and tickly my toes even though she knew I could kick her in the teeth at any time, she was starting to trust me a little and I was starting to kinda like her too (especially when she snuck me a piece of white bread even though that man told her not to) fat? Pishawwww! Not me.
One day Mumzy came to put me out in the morning and I could tell she was acting different. She kept telling me something that I just didn’t understand. ‘You just wait; you’re going to be so happy’ Huh? What was she jabbering on about? Was I going to get more white bread? Was she going to give me a bag of shavings to roll in? After she had cleaned my stall (it was a cold day so I stayed inside for a while) I watched her hang a second bucket of water? Gee I didn’t think I needed that much water but ok. Then she put an extra flake of hay in the corner. Can never have too much hay I guess?
Then I heard it, tires coming into the driveway, a big door opening and the sound of 4 tiny hooves hitting the driveway..
The next few weeks were spent trying to teach this new person Donkey Language! Holy Hooves, she just can’t get the hang of it.
Every morning she would lead me to my pasture (which by the way had some really awesome grass) and every evening she would lead me back to that huge stall, full of shavings and hay in the corner. Except for white bread, a fresh bed of shavings to roll in is probably my favorite thing to do in life. I Love to spread it all out, the smell of pine tickling my nose hairs, and when I get it just right I lower by great big barrel of a belly and roll and roll and ‘sigh’ roll.
So back to this person, this lady that leads me and feeds me and gives me the shavings (and sometimes some white bread), she knows horse talk (a little) but she just can’t get the hang of donkey talk. When I am scared or unsure of anything, I plant my feet and don’t move. Well, evidently, a horse (which is a much simpler animal – might I say not quite as smart?) can be tricked to move or go where they are told. If a donkey doesn’t want to move for whatever reason, a donkey doesn’t move. I think I have heard the word ‘stubborn ass’ before but stubborn has nothing to do with it. Why on earth would I go somewhere that I didn’t want to go? There were times when we would get half way to the pasture, and I would give her a lesson in donkey talk. I planted my feet and looked at her. She would yell at me… nope… not moving. She would move my head side to side… nope… not moving. She would yank on me…. Yea, nope….. not moving a foot. She even would put a carrot in front of me ….. Really? Yea… not moving. Sigh…. How long before she gets it?
Eventually she would give up, turn around and just stand there. Finally! I would follow as long as she didn’t pull or turn around and look at me. Just walk and I will be behind you.
Her lessons continued in the afternoon when she wanted to catch me in the pasture. First she would try to walk straight up to me…. I walked away. Then she tried chasing me… she can’t run very fast. Sometimes she tried hiding the lead rope behind her, hehehehaw really? Does that work with horses? Then she gave up and sat in the middle of the pasture with some white bread in her hand…..There… you’re getting it.
Her lessons continued and she slowly learned. Don’t tell me…. Ask me and I will do anything.
As the days went by we would hang out on the front lawn and eat grass and she would take this funny thing and rub it all over my body… mmmm that felt good. I had never felt a brush before. She always had some white bread in her pocket and that made me prick my long ears forward when I saw her coming. She laughed at me a lot, I’m not sure what was so funny but as long as she kept the white bread coming, I guess I could handle the laughing.
One day a man drove onto the yard and pulled out some tools and headed my way…. Ummmm what’s happening now? He could speak a little donkey so I let him pick my feet up and tickle my toes… He was a nice person and I decided I liked him… until I heard him say ‘you shouldn’t be giving her white bread anymore. She will get fat.’ WHAT? Ok mister, you can put my hoof down now and leave.
As the days got shorter and the nights got colder, I started to get a little lonely in my great big stall. I had started calling my person Mumzy. I liked having her all to myself; I looked forward to seeing her every morning and every evening. Sometime she scratched me all over with that tool of hers. I even let her pick my feet up and tickly my toes even though she knew I could kick her in the teeth at any time, she was starting to trust me a little and I was starting to kinda like her too (especially when she snuck me a piece of white bread even though that man told her not to) fat? Pishawwww! Not me.
One day Mumzy came to put me out in the morning and I could tell she was acting different. She kept telling me something that I just didn’t understand. ‘You just wait; you’re going to be so happy’ Huh? What was she jabbering on about? Was I going to get more white bread? Was she going to give me a bag of shavings to roll in? After she had cleaned my stall (it was a cold day so I stayed inside for a while) I watched her hang a second bucket of water? Gee I didn’t think I needed that much water but ok. Then she put an extra flake of hay in the corner. Can never have too much hay I guess?
Then I heard it, tires coming into the driveway, a big door opening and the sound of 4 tiny hooves hitting the driveway..