Late one afternoon a couple of weeks ago, I went to visit some old friends on my neighbour’s place. These three donkeys move all over the property. I hadn’t seen them for many months but here they were back in the paddock beside the road. It was so lovely to have them around again.
A Jack and two Jennys, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, looking gorgeous despite their great age. For they are old, these old friends of mine, very old. When I first moved here they were part of a herd of 13 donkeys. It was great to see so many, in all the possible different colours. The herd, however, had originally numbered 24 back in the late 1980s. Most of them were not young even then. And now there are only three.
They loved the apples I had brought to them. But they were quick to see off Ellie, chasing the dog away and keeping her at bay. You can just see poor Ells in the middle distance.
The had come up to me straight away, so that I could lavish attention, pats and scratches upon them. I always feel like Titania, in love with transformed Bottom, as I caress their cheeks and stroke their long and furry ears and look into their deep and soulful eyes. But I don’t need to be enchanted to fall in love with their donkey beauty. Just look at the lovely, pretty ears and face of Jack as he puts his head out towards me looking for more tickles, knowing that all the apples were long gone.
Who needs magic to love these beautiful animals?