Imagine pushing a wheelbarrow through a gate. Imagine also a donkey. If you opt for pushing the barrow through the gate from behind there is a moment where the gate is open before the barrow reaches it. If you opt as I did for pulling the barrow through the gate thus able to protect one’s approach there is a moment when the barrow is clear of the gate while it’s still open. There is therefore no foolproof way of getting a barrow through a gate without providing an opportunity of freedom to a donkey. Donkeys know this. So this morning donkey A, which I will henceforth refer to as DonkA, ceased eating hay and followed my barrow through the open gate. I dropped the barrow and clung on. What followed would in football parlance be termed a ‘set piece.’ Donkeys happily trot along with a person on their back and the same can be said of a person clinging round their neck. Donkeys know this but in the moment I was slow to catch on. Thus DonkA carried me way from the open gate leaving it free for DonkB and a wily old pony to also escape. I now had three trotters and even the one I had, albeit firmly by the neck, was pretty free to go wherever it wanted. I was reduced to repeatedly shouting ‘Chris’ who, hearing my pleas immediately stopped what he was doing to watch and enjoy. I must admit I was hoping for a more active response. In fairness though he did manage to get both donkeys in the small yard after a bit of chasing about. That left the wily old pony. This pony was obviously a student of psychology. His body language would exude, “oh alright then, I’m just a dumb animal, I give up, I’ll go where you want”, so inducing a moments euphoria, which he then used to exude, “oh no I’m not”, wheel round and be free again. He managed to outwit five of us for a good ten minutes by this and other ruses, circumnavigating the farm and all its byways several times in the process. Now our two deer are nowhere near the donkeys but by this time the word had got around it was freedom day; a sense of “I have a dream brothers and sisters” was in the air. One deer shot past André while he wasn’t looking; basically the same barrow/gate, gate/barrow situation. But two things were against it. One, deer are very skiddy on tarmac, and two they have a tendency to get over excited and drop down dead. But after another ten minutes of Bambi on Ice everyone was back in place. Break time. After lunch André had to de-louse all the chickens; actually it was a group effort. Four of us, me and three feisty young ladies, caught the chickens while André applied the chemicals. Chickens, especially cockerels, don’t like this idea. They too have wiles, mostly around rapid wing movements causing them to take on a strangely blurred appearance. Five of us chasing five flapping chickens in a small chicken coop provided copious amounts of entertainment. What with all this and last week’s sheep wrestling my volunteering day is beginning to resemble having a season ticket to Alton Towers. Who needs aerial railways of death when you can strap yourself onto a donkey’s neck and hold on to a sheep for dear life? And lets face it; a log flume will never make a delicious roast dinner, will it?
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