In which I learn a new way to treat a donkey hoof abscess

It's been almost eight years I've had Jethro the donkey now. (Left, picture of him when I was just buying him out in Iredell County.)

I've learned a lot over this time and Jethro has become far more mannerly.

One thing that's worse is, he gets hoof abscesses now. He and his buddy Hector have churned up the mud along their fence line and they stand in that muck most of the day watching us and waiting for treats. It's no use moving them, they just do the same thing in the new place. I got a concrete pad poured in the shed where we feed them but they mostly just want to stand by their fence and beg for corn cobs and banana peels.

Donkeys are so strong, it's not the fence per se but their general lack of imagination that holds them back. Jethro's lack of imagination failed momentarily about a week or two ago and, under cover of darkness, by finding and pushing on a plank that was nailed, not screwed, into its post he escaped. When I woke up in the morning and went out on my balcony there he was in the front yard, eating the green grass enthusiastically and with a big happy round belly.

Two weeks later, he was very ill. He walked like he had arthritis, each foot shakily planted on the ground. Our new vets, Triangle Equine, diagnosed laminitis (I gather this is like the first stage of foundering) stemming from his one night of over indulgence! They said horses and ponies founder almost immediately after a gorge, but that in donkeys it can be delayed up to a month! And by the time they got here he had also developed a nasty hoof abscess.

They prescribed "Bute" (phenylbutazone) to treat both the laminitis and the abscess. But what I really wanted to share was the way they now protect the donkey hoof over the week or so while an abscess is draining.

Previously I was told to soak the foot in a bath of epsom salts and then put the clean foot into a booty made of a feed bag and tape it on. That was hard. Jethro was willing to keep his foot in the epsom salts bath only as long as I was feeding him sweet feed. When I stopped he immediately took his hoof out and put it squarely down into the muck again.

Here's what the new vets do: They make a pad of duct tape, like this, each piece overlapping the one before. Then they do a second, perpendicular layer on top of that one.

They take an already-folded-in-half disposable baby diaper (newborn size) and fold it in half again. That's about the size of Jethro's hoof. They put it in the middle of the duct tape.

Then they take one of these Animalintex hoof poultices, trim it a bit to the size of the bottom of his hoof, soak it briefly in water, and put it on top of folded diaper. Then you mash that whole mess up onto the hoof and pull the duct tape mat up and around the hoof, getting the sticky part surrounding your poultice to stick to the sides of the hoof. And then take the roll of duct tape and wrap madly till the whole thing is trapped securely in place. Do this every day till it's not necessary any more (your vet will tell you I guess).

They explained that the pad contains epsom salts and when you wet it it will draw the mooky stuff down and out and keep the hoof clean while it's healing.

I just thought, in case your donkey has a hoof abscess, you'd want to know about this. Two days later he is walking just fine.

Locavore donkeys

When I was first considering getting a donkey I thought: "I know places there are lots of weeds for a donkey to eat." Came to learn there are several problems with the weed thing:

1. Donkeys (mine at least) are incredibly picky and will only eat 1 out of 10 or 15 types of weeds present in local weed patches. Eeyore ate thistles but my donkeys don't.
   
   Jethro and Hector on a weed-eating walk keep their noses to the ground and after they've passed up 14 weeds they find one kind they like.
   
   
2. Even eating as fast as they possibly can, donkeys have to eat for hours to keep up their figures. I can't stand to stand there holding the leashes that long. But they won't stay put; if they're not on leashes they instantly relocate to the neighbors' homes and eat expensive landscaping.
   
   So if you want your donkeys to eat weeds, you have to fence the weeds and that's very expensive. Otherwise prepare to stand around contemplating while they munch. Here you see Hector and Jethro eating the (invasive) Japanese switch grass that grows under the power line right of way.
   

So my donkeys, after they've eaten or killed all the grass in their fenced-in fields, live on hay. I never knew there was so much to the hay business before I had Jethro. If I get stuff he doesn't like, he gets bony. (Hector is not so picky.)

They love second-cut orchard grass and today I was lucky enough to get 54 bales of it, green and fragrant, from Roger Tate's farm in Mebane. I love knowing the farmer who grows the hay. On my second trip out I met Roger's mother, who came out of the house to say she enjoys seeing a woman loading her own hay. She told me Roger was very independent as a toddler.

On the third trip I ran into Roger himself. We always talk about the weather, and today remembered with horror the summer of 2007 when the drought was so bad the grass crunched under our feet and he ran out of hay in July.

This year there was a late frost that ruined a lot of the first cut, but kinder weather recently resulted in a lovely second cut. After three trips to Mebane I'm happy our barn is almost chock-full, that's a satisfying feeling as the leaves start falling off the trees.

How I am like my donkey Jethro

My donkey Jethro is like me: stubborn, defiant, cowardly, and unable to compete.

Here's how I ended up with a donkey. In August 2007 my daughter and I went to Bulgaria and I fixated on the donkey carts trundling down the road. The drivers were tan, leathery old guys in no particular hurry. The harnesses were cracked, dusty old leather, the carts were homemade out of what looked like driftwood. The carts were full of weeds, why were old guys driving weeds around?

We saw one of these hand-hewn carts by the side of the road and stopped to investigate. Through some trees we saw them, the guy and his donkey, hip deep in greenery. The donkey was eating as fast as he could and the man had a scythe. So that's it: they were ambling around the countryside gathering donkey dinner.

At that moment I decided to become a donkey owner. I thought: when Armageddon arrives I'll be ready with my donkey and cart, I won't have to compete for gasoline. I thought: I know places I can steal weeds and nobody is competing for them. I thought: nobody else I know has a donkey, no competition there. I thought: I would like to live my life at this tempo, rolling down the road looking for something nobody else wants.

I found Jethro through a friend of a friend of a friend and went to meet him in Iredell County where he'd been lazing his young life away servicing hinnies. As I walked across the field I saw in his body language and the cocking of his magnificent ears that he was rebellious and fearful. That's the opposite of what you want, which is brave and obedient. I bought him instantly.

Here's why Jethro is still lazing. If you ask a donkey to do something, he asks "Why?" and unless there's an answer that satisfies him, he refuses. Jethro can do anything I ask, but generally doesn't choose to. For instance, he happily carries stones, but if I ask him to stand still so I can unload the stones, he keeps going till he finds a place with better weeds. He doesn't mind pulling a cart, but he is going to pull it in the ditch, where there are weeds. He was ok with being tied to a big heavy chicken coop I wanted him to haul, but first he stood still acting like it was too heavy and then he galloped across the field with the chicken coop bouncing heavily along behind him until the thick rope I'd tied to it snapped and the coop was upside down in the woods. Eventually I gave up and so, he lazes.

A donkey shouldn't live alone. I made a website for a gentleman farmer and he paid me with a miniature horse named Superman. Superman came stumping into our lives, short and broad and unflappable. Jethro was afraid of him at first but they eventually became pals and Superman learned to like donkey games, which involve a lot of biting.

Superman really knew how to look out for #1. He got all the treats because Jethro, three times his size, moved respectfully out of the way when Superman nosed into the bucket. I felt bad for Jethro, he got no banana peels unless I handed them to him directly. It bothered me so, I finally gave Superman away to the little girl who lives across the railroad tracks - her daddy snuck up that Christmas morning and led Superman away with a big red ribbon stuck in his mane. Now he gets brushed every day and eats ice cream sandwiches.

Superman's replacement is a little donkey with unattractive brown fur like matted dirty dog hair. Hector was cheap because his owner had expected him to be born white and had planned to use him in living creches at Christmas time. At his first performance Hector dropped to the ground, rolled in the dust, hooked his hoof under Baby Jesus's cradle, knocked Him over, and gashed his own leg. So I got him cheap. Jethro was of course afraid of Hector at first but now they're good friends.

Still, if I put down a bucket of treats, Jethro dives in enthusiastically, then little Hector trots up on his tiny hooves and pretty soon Hector's snout is in the orange peels and Jethro is at his side, staring politely off into space. I can't tell if Jethro wants treats less than Hector does, or if it's that he's too afraid to stand up for himself. For years he was afraid, of strollers, bicycles, recycling bins, flags dangling from mailboxes - and he thought everything in the world wanted to eat him. He's not afraid of recycling bins any more, but he's still afraid of being eaten and he still always loses when it comes to the treat bucket.

Dixie Draft Horse, Mule, and Carriage Auction, November 2012

The day after Thanksgiving is always the first day of the Dixie Draft (as we call it at my house). My daughter Hannah and I drove 2 hours to Troutman, NC to what turned out to be the biggest of these auctions I've ever seen. The place was packed, there was nowhere to park, and the crowds were so large we couldn't get near the auctioneers. So instead of watching auctions, we just watched people, horses, mules, donkeys, and a couple of goats, and a whole lot of really tiny dogs. People with huge horses seem to favor tiny dogs. Next Dixie Draft is in March of 2013.

Jethro the donkey hauls vegetation

If you want to haul heavy, wet pots of plants to transplant them far away where there is not a road, here's a plan: take some deer-fencing, sling it across your donkey packsaddle, and tie it up with a lot of string. Make sure your knots are tight or things will get dicey.

Hector: Jethro the donkey's side-kick

Picture from Hector's first escape. We figured out he's sucking in his gut and slipping through a gap in the fence (Marco watched with binoculars while Ez led Jethro away - we watched Hector rev into high gear to get back to the herd, ie Jethro).


As I was told by the guy who sold Hector to me, he does not "get it" about being led - I had to pull him all the way around the block. But if I take Jethro for a walk Hector trots alongside quite happily. Most of the time.

Because he only stays with us "most of the time," I have to put the halter on him. These pictures are from when I was taking a rest from hauling him around the neighborhood. Don't laugh.

Adventures in animal handling.

This was like one of those SAT questions about the fox, the goose, the snake, and the river, and you have to get them all across. Or whatever.

Jethro the big donkey and Julius the dog both needed a walk. Hector the small donkey did not need a walk, he hasn't learned that he should go forward when he's wearing his haltar and a lead line. So I thought I'd take Jethro and Julius on a walk, they do ok together, and I'd leave Hector home.

I put Jethro into his halter and walked him down to my son's house; I hitched him to a tree and started up the stairs to get my son's dog Julius.

In less than a minute, Hector the small donkey had (somehow) slipped out of his paddock, run up and down the straightaway a couple times at top speed.

By the time I came out of my son's house with the dog, Hector had come down the hill to join Jethro. Hector hasn't been separated from Jethro since he arrived a few weeks ago, and evidently wasn't going to put up with it.

Hence I learn that Hector could have gotten out of the paddock at any time over these past weeks, he just didn't choose to, because he wanted to be with Jethro.

Now I have a dog on a lead, VERY eager for a walk, I have a large donkey tied to a tree, and I have a small donkey hanging out next to the big donkey. What to do.

I tied the dog to a different tree and went to get Hector's halter and lead line. Hector and Julius the dog do NOT get along because Julius has been herding the donkeys at night when we let him out - he runs them in huge circles over and over, barking and nipping at them. Even when Jethro got tired of it and landed a solid hoof-thunk on the dog's head, he wasn't discouraged.

So I leave the dog tied to the tree, whimpering in dismay and astonishment, and take the two donkeys off for a walk. How horrible! Hector doesn't want to walk, so he lags behind, which annoys Jethro, who circles around me to bite Hector. If he gets behind Hector, things go better - then he nips at Hector, who then hustles along. When they're next to each other, Hector stops, and if he gets bitten from the front, he goes 0 mph.

I hauled them around the block, hauled them back into the pen, and then took the dog for a walk. I wonder if there might have been a better way to do this?

Jethro the donkey gets a Hanukkah present

Tuesday, this brainstorm: Darrah, the little girl who lives across the railroad tracks from me, really really loves Superman, while I don't like him at all. Nobody here likes him. Why should he spend his life without love? So I called Darrah's dad and offered him Superman for free. He was flabbergasted: just the previous day Darrah sat on Santa Claus's knee and said, "all I want for Christmas is a pony just like Superman."

He began setting up fencing - he told me later: "I got it up without either of the kids noticing! Even though Darrah was home sick from school! I fixed it so she was mad at me and didn't want to come outside!" My friend Mitzi got Superman a huge red bow for his mane and my neighbor will be coming in the dark Christmas morning - "Darrah is going to faint with excitement." A mitzvah.

Meanwhile, having Superman meant I hadn't gotten Jethro a companion he would really like: another donkey. I thought long and hard and then searched Craigslist until I found a listing for a "small jack" in Rocky Mount. Next day I drove up and visited him. He was living next to a tiny brick house with his mom, some geese, a few dogs, some free-range goats, a draft horse, and five or six guinea hens.

His leg was hurt recently when he dropped down to wallow ("you know how they do" said his owner) while in a "Living Nativity Scene" -- he got himself scratched under the manger -- but the injury is healing nicely. I handed over the cash. (Hannah mused that the donkeys in unreal Nativity Scenes rarely wallow.)

Then I asked my friends on Facebook to help name him. 48 comments later (!) I chose the name Hector suggested by a high school chum.

His owner delivered him Thursday morning. Hector is pretty friendly to strangers but has never been anywhere so doesn't "get it" about being led. He had to be kind of shoved along till he caught sight of Jethro, eating breakfast.

I liked the idea of a "small Jack" because I wanted a guy considerably smaller than Jethro (since Jethro is such a neurotic coward and I didn't want him feeling threatened), yet not as small as a dwarf (mini) donkey.

Hector is perfect - he's a cross between a small white standard mom and a mini white dad (that must have been a sight to see); the owner was hoping for a white baby but "man plans and God laughs." I guess that's why Hector (who's nine months old but full grown) was so inexpensive.

I imagined he'd be a trembling ball of nerves, but he marched right up to the fence and started pulling Jethro's breakfast hay out of the bathtub through the netting.

Jethro was astonished but his attention being divided (breakfast occupies his mind most of the day, especially when it's in front of him) couldn't decide what he thought. When I brought Hector into the pen, they sniffed each other carefully and then Hector chowed down while Jethro hid behind a tree and watched.

Eventually they decided everything was fine.

I wish I'd had a night-vision video camera last night: when I let Ezra's dog Julius out for romp, he streaked over to the donkey enclosure and commenced to herding the two of them frantically in huge circles. He barked and he raced 90 miles an hour while they loped, flank to flank, their hooves striking the ground with loud dusty thuds. I could see all six eyes shining in the light of my headlamp. Round and round they went.

Eventually the donkeys got tired of it and stood together watching the dog bark; then Jethro lowered his head and charged after Julius. It wasn't a fair match, because Julius can run out of the enclosure when he's being closed in on; also, his turning radius is MUCH tighter.

Dixie Draft Horse, Mule and Carriage Auction, Troutman NC November 2011

Twice a year (the weekend after Thanksgiving and the last weekend in March) a tremendous crowd gathers to buy and sell horses, mules, not nearly enough donkeys, tack, carriages, and rusty stuff. About seven auctioneers at a time are gabbling away (sometimes they seem to be speaking in tongues, sometimes they sound like Porky Pig) and selling things - sometimes for much more than they seem to be worth (I saw two 'flying pigs' on sticks go for $25 each) and sometimes much less (a brand new crib with a brand new mattress went for $1.00). I am now the proud owner of a whole pallet-load of miscellaneous fencing (some is rusty) which I got for $10.

I should explain that where you see a lot of people, that's where the auctioneers are (they get driven up and down the rows standing in the back of golf carts while the assistants hold up the often arcane items for sale). Where there are just a few people, either those few are waiting for the auctioneer to get to their desired items, or they are just chewing the fat and resting between exhausting sessions of waving their numbers in the air and buying stuff. Or perhaps they had just finished chewing the fat: there were enough greasy delights being gobbled down to send almost anyone into a catatonic digestive stupor.