Henk writes:
I’ve been meaning to write about Barney for months, and now
he’s dead. He sang for his breakfast as usual this morning, walked over to the
big round hay bale, lay down and died.
Lil went into the paddock just after
that to fill the water trough and saw several horses standing around Barney,
pawing his body and nuzzling his face. That’s how she knew he was dead.
Barney was a donkey. Our farriers saved him from an old
cow-barn where he stood knee-deep in manure and hardly ever moved. He didn't like living with cows. They talked
Barney’s old (and it turns out dying) owner into letting them take Barney to
our farm, where he spent what was left of his long life in a big pasture with
horses who soon became his friends (after they got over their fear of his long
ears and strange voice!).
His new humans spent hours brushing the horrible mattes out
of Barney’s long grey-and-white coat, and re-built his diseased hooves so he
could walk more comfortably. When someone who knew about such things told them
a donkey’s coat could not repel water the way a horse’s coat could (they’re
desert animals, after all), they bought him two spiffy blankets to wear.
Barney and friends
Of course those blankets caused some excitement in the herd.
You know how some horses are – change ANYTHING in their world and it’s cause
for panic! Harley, Targui, and a couple of the other horses felt the need to go
chase Barney around because he looked so different in his new coat. He seemed
quite worried for a minute (the horses were of course much bigger, and he could
no longer run), but then Moose and Ronan took charge of the situation. They
literally surrounded Barney, one on each side, and put the boots to any horse
that tried to come near him. Clearly, Barney had been smart enough to figure
out which horses to make friends with: Moose is a 17-hand Belgian-cross, and
Ronan is part Clydesdale. They’re normally the mellowest of beasties, but not
when the bullies tried to pick on their donkey!
It was Moose, Ronan, and our Canadian horse Louis who were
with Barney when he died. Louis tried the hardest to get him to stand up,
pawing him over and over again. Moose pushed his big muzzle into Barney’s face.
Ronan stayed with him after the others had wandered off, standing watch the way
one horse sometimes stands over a herd-mate who is sleeping. Just like before, he chased off any horse except Moose and Louis who tried to come near. Even in death, Barney was his special donkey.
No one is quite sure how old Barney was, but the best guess
seems to be somewhere between 40 and 50. It seems old age just caught up. Not a
bad way to go when you think about it – with a full stomach and surrounded by
your friends.
We’ll miss you, Barney. Rest in peace.
