Imaging God, Following Jesus

 LIFE ON THE PASTURE

an interlude to life and death in the woodlands

The thing about donkeys is - their personality. In Ecuador, the donkeys were all Eeyores. Sad, brow beaten workers. I watched on numerous occasions, different donkeys, different parts of the country, as Vaqueros would take the lead rope and wrap it round a clump of tall grass. I was amazed. The donkeys never moved. But in America, they lived up to their name Ass. They are assholes. And I don't mean to say they are mean. But let me tell you, if you fake tie them up to a clump a grass they will be off wandering around in no time and you'll have to chase them down.

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Now, their personalities are different. Some more obstinate then others. And their personality can dictate what type of tree you may or may not tie them up too. I tied my very unruly and obstinate donkey to a young maple tree. I gave him just the right amount of rope. And tied a good quick release knot. But going off for about 10 minutes and coming back, I found the tree bent over and my donkey being strangled to death. And just like the cowgirl said, I learned many lessons and quick that day. She bent down to try to free him from the rope said to me, "well sometimes a lesson doesn't get learned except through these type of experiences. You may not have given him enough rope to hang himself but even still, there are many ways improper attention can get a horse killed".  My animal was going to dye. She said, "your animal is going to dye. That tree might have been fine for another animal but Charlie here is too rowdy. He'll test the ropes and tree to pull free if he can". She was all calm, told me to run and find her husband and we'll see if we can save him. She had still been trying to find any give in the ropes and help him breath. I ran off quick and upon getting back, her husband fell down at his knees saying oh hell and fuck. He too tried to see if the rope could give but almost immediately comprehended the futility and pulled out a large pocket knife and began to cut the ropes. The donkey was almost gone. But the moment the ropes broke he gasped deeply for air and found his legs again. I was shaking. The cowgirl smiled and said, "well he didn't die, alright."

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I took him back to his coral and then finished bailing hay to the horses in the pasture. Later we talked about the importance of having a knife handy on you at all times, boots and extra halters and lead ropes. Life and death were just every day occurrences on the ranch. I learned a lot about real love and care for animals from the family and real grit for the every day realities. This family would often take in abused animals and rehabilitate them. My donkey Charlie was one of them. His rowdy nature is probably why his previous owners beat him and ignored his daily needs. One horse was so malnourished because the previous owners simply didn't feed them that she was truly skin and bones. It's a scary thing, she could literally die any day simply because of the dynamic that the mass of a horses body in comparison to the delicate ankles and legs played. All she had to do was trip and most likely her ankle would break. I didn't know that when a horse breaks an ankle or leg the usual method for dealing with it is putting them down. In the horse world, a broken leg or ankle is dead horse. But they gave her her own pasture space, good food and water and daily attention even though others had deemed her a lost cause. She would probably never be able to be ridden but she might just live.

I would later go on to almost kill my donkey again. And learned first hand experience why there are never two stallions in the pasture.