"Tom was here before the river and the trees; Tom remembers the first raindrop and the first acorn…There’s earth under his old feet, and clay on his fingers; wisdom in his bones, and both his eyes are open." - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
The text came at 9pm on a Saturday night, "Do you want a donkey?"
I'd been working for my new boss for about three weeks at that point and was taken aback. An actual donkey? I texted back asking for more information.
The story was nearly unbelievable. Some good samaritans found a donkey running down the middle of a short, country road in the southern end of the county. They lured it into their barn with a bucket of grain, and called animal control. After some investigation, they found out that this kind but skittish donkey had been on an uninhabited farm for SIX years. Supposedly, there was cattle on the farm for the first four of those six years, but they left a lone creature behind when they took the cattle from the property-the donkey. This poor animal had been living entirely alone for TWO YEARS. The fateful day he was found, a utility company had gone onto the property to work on some lines and thinking the property was empty, and with the gate left open, the donkey made his bid for freedom. So many questions lingered-what did he do for shelter, for food, for water? The best we can guess, there had to be a reliable pond or stream on the property and some dense trees for cover, but by and large those questions remain unanswered.
Back to the fateful text...
My former boss is the mother of the caring and talented lady that runs our county's animal shelter/animal control. Knowing that I lived on a farm, they hoped that we might be able to give this donkey a new home. Doug and I felt called to help. So after a local equine hospital donated their time and equipment to geld, vaccinate, worm, and trim the hooves on said donkey, we received him at the farm.
The second I met this ghost-colored creature, I could see what seemed like a thousand years of wisdom and grief and feeling in his eyes. Though the vets had estimated him to be in his late teens/early twenties, his gaze suggested that his life had spanned centuries. Immediately, my mind jumped to the character Tom Bombadil in the first book of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy the Fellowship of the Ring.
Tom Bombadil, a magical and eternal being, lived alone in the Old Forest until he married Goldberry, mostly forgotten by others in Middle Earth. Of Tom Bombadil, Elrond says at the Council meeting, "But I had forgotten Bombadil, if indeed this still be the same that walked the woods and hills long ago, and even then he was older than old." An individual of an unknown age and full of wisdom that lived alone in the wilderness for an undetermined amount of time? Sounded like a Tom Bombadil to me!
Our Tom differs from Tolkien's Tom Bombadil in one aspect: while Bombadil is a cheerful character who sings, laughs, and dances in his domain, our Tom is quite the opposite. Spending only a few days with this donkey, I quickly came to the realization that my aspirations of grooming him, petting him, and training him to pull a cart would not come to fruition. Tom was and still is a touch-me-not. Despite treats and cajoling and patience, Tom does not let us touch or handle him in any fashion. The reason for this became painfully clear the first time we had a farrier come to trim his feet. As we shooed him into the corner of a stall to give him some sedative, he shivered with fear. When the farrier's assistant reached for his cheek and halter, Tom threw his head back and we could see nothing but the whites of his eyes as his shivering turned to full body quaking. She looked at me sadly and said, "someone has hit this boy in the head." My heart shattered.
Donkeys live a very long time as equines go. In good conditions, donkeys can live 30-45 years whereas the average horse lives around 25-30. Along with their long lives comes a long memory. Donkeys get a bad reputation for being stubborn, but what they really are is smart. For example, if you want them to cross a creek, they simply want time to think through the situation on their own and find the path that suits them. Whipping, beating, cajoling, and forcing might get you across the creek quicker, but donkeys do not forget! Whatever Tom endured in his previous life still haunts him. Each time we've had his feet worked on, it becomes an hours long event that traumatizes him and me both. The last time was horrible. He didn't get near me or take a treat for weeks after. We are still struggling to find assistance with how to most easily provide the care that he needs, but in the meantime, he's so happy with his cattle family and lots of treats from Doug and I. Speaking of his cow buddies...
"How are we gonna get this feral donkey to the new farm?", Doug wondered aloud. "They loaded him on a trailer to get him here. I guess we'll just have to try," I encouraged. In the six months we'd had Tom, he'd become VERY attached to our pet angus steer, Simba, so it was no surprise when Tom followed him into the loading area. Doug and I started by first trying to gently shoo him up into the trailer. Nope. We tried to link arms behind his rear end and push/pull him toward the trailer. Again nope. We also got the donkey "middle finger" for our trouble-he pointed his butt at us (the very hilarious way donkeys express their displeasure-swinging that rear!). Finally, we relented and just loaded Simba on the trailer. Tom's ears pricked up, he turned, and followed Simba right onto the trailer and looked at us as if to say, "I'm not being left anywhere without a buddy again. All you had to do was ask." We now joke that if Tom has to go anywhere, we have to take an emotional support cow!
Tom's bond with the cattle herd only strengthened when our first calves came. We were understandably nervous as Sona went into labor. Donkeys are amazing guardians with the caveat that they typically come to see one species as their family to protect. For example, a donkey raised with a flock of sheep might not assimilate into a herd of goats and even harm them as a "alien threat". We'd heard horror stories about donkeys not recognizing newborn calves as cattle and killing them, so we held our breath as Sona's labor progressed. As the calf's feet and head presented, Tom became increasingly interested. He followed her closely around the pasture, smelling the amniotic fluid and nudging Sona herself. The calf finally plopped onto the ground, shook its head, and began attempting to stand. Tom was right there over the calf. Doug was fully prepared to step in and pull the calf to safety, but before we could even move, Tom sniffed the calf, stood up straight, let out a boisterous, celebratory heehaw, and then simply continued grazing. Our relief was instant-he would accept calves. Shew!
This same scenario played out two more times that year, and countless times on through to today-Tom attending the laboring cow like an attentive midwife, sniffing the new babe, and blasting a celebratory heehaw. He has the patience of Job when it comes to the new tots. We often find him standing guard in a group of tiny, sleeping calves while their mothers are off grazing. I told him he should get paid for his babysitting services! He's had to discipline a few calves as well. When they get older and more rambunctious, they try to get Tom to run and play. Our old, serious Tom does NOT run for fun. They quickly get the donkey butt swing of displeasure!
Tom Bombadil has become such a fixture in our herd and in our life these last seven years, that I cannot imagine a day where I won't see him out in the pasture turned broadside to the sun soaking up the warm rays into his old bones, ears relaxed, breathing deeply. A protector, a midwife, a childcare provider-Tom is quite literally a jack of all trades. We're so thankful we were able to give this gentleman a home. He'll never have to be alone in the wilderness again.
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