Befriending My First Donkey

Despite being obsessed with horses since the early 80s, donkeys were largely off my radar until 2010. That’s when I saw some pulling carts at the state fair horse show—the first donkeys I’d seen in real life—and I was instantly in love. Who could resist those ears??

The following year, we were having trouble with dogs getting into the pasture and chasing the horses. That’s when I first learned that donkeys are often used to protect livestock from dogs, coyotes, and other predators.

Soon after, a large goat ranch nearby shut down and was selling all its guard donkeys for $25 each. When I called to reserve one, the owner emphasized that these were NOT pets. Most of them had been born out in the field and had no human contact. They were feral, essentially.

So we arrived, opened the trailer, and a ranch hand chased a dark brown jenny into it.

Back home, we opened the trailer door and she was gone in a flash. I wondered how long it would be before I could get that close to her again.

Spoiler: Not nearly as long as I thought.

Day 1

I figured the logical first step was to let her get used to seeing me. So, the next day, I took a lawn chair and a book into the pasture, and I sat there and read for a couple of hours.

And that’s when I discovered how incredibly curious donkeys are.

She was wary of me, but she was also fascinated. She kept me in her line of site as she grazed, and I’d catch her staring at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention.

By the time I left, she’d slowly drifted from a few hundred feet away to less than 20.

Day 2

We continued the game the next day, and this time she didn’t bother with the aloof act. She immediately came within about 20 feet. So I started talking to her. Introduced myself, told her all the horses’ names, sang a few songs—everything in a casual, calm voice. And sure enough, she continued to get closer.

After an hour or so, she got close enough to sniff my chair, and then my book. I slowly reached out and touched her shoulder, but that sent her skittering away. Not in true fear, though. It was more like “I need to step away and think about whether I’m okay with that.”

I’d later learn that that’s what donkeys do—they think. They think about EVERYTHING. And you’re going to get nowhere with them unless you allow them that thinking time.

A few minutes later, she approached again. This time she let me touch her for a few seconds, then she went back to her grazing.

Day 3

The third day, I decided to see how she’d react to me approaching her. She let me get within a few feet before she started looking nervous, so I stopped there. When she moved to a new patch of grass, I followed and watched.

Her coat was very rough and dry, and I’d noticed her scratching a lot over the last few days. Especially on her lower back, which she had trouble reaching with her teeth.

And that’s when I had possibly the best idea I’ve ever had in my life. I walked up a little closer, stretched my arm out, and scratched her in the spot she’d been trying to reach. I have long fingernails, so I’m really good at scratching.

You could almost see a giant light bulb go on over her head as she realized I might actually be good for something.

I continued to stay close, and eventually she started scratching another itchy spot. So I scratched that one, too.

Day 4

On the fourth day, I was shocked to see her waiting at the gate.

I walked in, and she positioned herself so that I was in easy reach of her lower back. She used her muzzle to point at a spot, then she looked at me expectantly.

THAT’S how smart donkeys are.

That was 12 years ago. Since then, I’ve provided frequent scratching assistance, and she’s willingly done everything I’ve ever asked her to do.

Best $25 I ever spent.