Pot of Gold

Who would think it.  This little bag of carrots can create a whirling dirvish with not only the dogs and the donks, but with the horses next door.

The saga starts with the cutting of the carrots.  Two black dogs run to the kitchen from whatever location in the house to stand guard in case a errant piece flies to the floor or mom decides to be generous.

Then we go out to give treats to the donks.  Sometimes, we make a pit stop at the fence next door and call the horses.  Often I'm faced with big heads and big lips coming at me across the fence.  And then the dogs start jumping and barking at the horses, because the brutes are getting THEIR carrots.  The injustice of it all.

Donkeys then get their share and those little lips are in constant motion begging for yet another piece. Donkeys are such gentle creatures, one is rarely in danger of getting bit fingers.  One would only get lipped to death.

And then I say "enough" and everyone lets out a collective groan.  Alas, no more golden carrots until the next day.

Yummm, Hot Slop

Three little donkeys stand at the gate, insistently telling their tale of starvation.  They haven't yet gotten the hang of changing clocks back and start bellowing at 6:30 am.

It was hot slop day for breakfast.

Yes, I know I've given you the very complicated and exotic recipe before, but in case you didn't jot it down, I'll repeat.  About 12 handfuls of hay cubes, a couple of cups of bran, a little oil in the dead of winter, and a little salt if it's really cold and they're not drinking water like they should.  Of course adding carrots and apples is optional.  This morning it was apples, plucked off the tree at camp, so they were free of chemicals. (I buy boxes of  #2 carrots at the local farmer's market so its usually carrots in the mix.)

The donks will normally sort out, each with their own bowl.  But girls will be girls and today they insisted on sharing.  Not not not with Luigi, though.  Icky boy, maybe he has cooties.

Pushy Bee-hinds

There's nothing funnier than a pushy little donkey.  And yes, today I'm naming names.  My sweet and cuddly Francesca can be a food bully. This morning I tossed a nice fat flake of hay to get them started on breakfast while I tended to clean-up chores.  After I had finished with manure madness I got another flake to finish off the morning's meal.  Luigi, who prefers to eat solo, left the girls to wander over to this second flake.Well, little miss Franny comes over, backs up to the flake, and uses her bee-hind to not so graciously remove Luigi from the area.

I had to laugh.