Duncan Diary Installment 7 – A Country Wedding

It was a small wedding, just a little different to most. A picture book country affair, nice sunny day, ten people in a field full of flowers, a bubbling stream, lots of food (wieners and champagne ), the groom bright and young, black haired, brown-eyed, big eared, immaculately groomed and somewhat impatient, and the guests giving him advice, while we waited for the brides to arrive. Yes, the brides. Two of them, brown hair, big smiles, one a little plumper than the other, but almost identical . Mother and daughter. Not Mormons. Donkeys. Almost identical. “They’ve shared everything up till now” said the vet, “and since it’s his first time it’s a good idea if at least one of them knows what to do” . Sunshine (once called September) is now 18 months old. For the last couple of months he’s been noisy . A voice like a sad and rusty bugle, as loud as a truck horn, sun up to sun down, audible a mile away. “Lonely” said the neighbours, so we found him a friend, a gelding ( which is a fixed male donkey, a donkey with his libido snipped) because two jacks ( a jack is an unfixed donkey ) will fight, said the neighbours.

So we shopped around, put notices up in the store and advertisements in the local paper . “Attractive young donkey, good blood lines, likes carrots, candlelight dinners and walks on the beach, good sense of humour…” And so came the brides. And the advice.

It appears that donkeys come into heat every two weeks. “Great” said all the neighbouring guys. “Bloody hell ” said their wives. The vet, a nice no-nonsense woman with three kids, four dogs, five horses , a Vietnamese pig and, as she shrugged, “no husband”, said that didn’t mean they want ” attention” every time. “Understandable ” said the wives, “typical” said the guys. “They have to get to know one another first”, said the vet ( same reactions as before from the guys and wives ). She told us that they’d probably walk around together for a bit, eating grass, destroying young trees, rolling together in the dust, bugling, and when she was ready, which may take a couple of months . “Friends first ….” she‘ll tell him when.

This all sounds very romantic . “Does she whisper in his ear?” said the wives. “No”, said the vet, “she kicks him in the head”. “Good idea ” said the wives and again ( predictably ) “bloody hell” from the husbands. “And he bites her in the neck” said the vet, “you may have to put a muzzle on him”.

So they arrived. In a horse trailer. We popped the champagne, drank to their health, backed the trailer up to the gate, let down the tailgate and out they came, prettied up in daisy chains and straw hats. Sunshine cocked his head on one side, snapped the end off a carrot, looked at them both, ignored the daughter and without ceremony piggybacked ( that’s a nice polite word for it ) her mother, who’s called Wren. But sideways, which is not exactly the right way to piggyback. Wren, obviously a stickler for protocol, bucked him off, bared her teeth, backed him into a corner, kicked him in the head and waited for him to figure things out. “Sometimes you have to hand breed them the first time” said the vet. But we didn’t . In two minutes it was all over. Wren went back to eating grass. “Typical” said both the husbands and wives. Together.

But fifteen minutes later, with the champagne all gone, we had a repeat performance. And fifteen minutes after that. Next morning too . My donkey field fronts on to the road, and by late afternoon groups of high school kids were arriving on bikes . Every fifteen minutes . It went on for three days . That was a month ago. The daughter is still looking undecided. We’re thinking of selling tickets when she makes her mind up. “Typical” say the wives. “Right on” say the guys.

James Barber