Meet the herd

Abraham came to us from Peaceful Pastures, our mentor rescue and the people who showed us how this work is done properly. He came in a group of jacks, and like the rest of them he arrived with a number instead of a name. He was number two. We called him Soot around the barn before his adopting family gave him Abraham. Both fit him better than a number did. He is gelded now and living an easy life in the main pasture. Nothing about his days requires him to be anything in particular, which after a lifetime of being one of many is not a small thing.

Alexander came to us with his mother Giraffe, and the two of them together were our first rescue. That was back in Florida, years ago now, before we had any idea where this was going. We called him Eyore for a long time. His adopting family chose Alexander. Here is the part worth knowing. He and his mother are still bonded. Not tolerating each other, not simply sharing a pasture. Still together, after all these years and a move to another state. People assume animals forget. Some do. These two did not.

Amos had a reputation around here. He was one of the biggest bullies on the farm, and for the longest time we could not work out why a boy like him would act that way. Testing finally gave us the answer. Amos is a cryptorchid, which means that despite everything anyone thought, he was still very much a stallion. That explained the behavior. It also means we may have a few surprise babies running around here in a few months. He had a specialized surgery in Nashville and he is healing up in the barn now, on rest for about a month. Underneath all of it he is a teddy bear. He always was, we just could not see it through the hormones. And we know he cannot wait to get back out there and run.

Angel came to us out of a Texas auction along with her mom. Both of them were almost certainly slaughter bound. We brought them home together, and we are so glad we did. They are two of the sweetest girls on this farm and they are absolutely inseparable. Where one goes, the other is right behind her. Today they live in the small pasture by the house with Gertie, our oldest resident, and her daughter. It is a quiet little group and it suits them just right.

Artie came to us from Georgia with seven others he had spent his whole life around. Their owner ran into hard times, the kind that do not resolve, and she made the decision to surrender all eight of them together rather than break them up or let them go without. We keep saying it because it is true. That was the ultimate act of love. They came here loved and they stayed together, and Artie has that easy way about him that only comes from an animal who has never been let down.

Before she was Aster, she was the red female baby. That is what our notes called her, because when she got here that is all we knew. We do not have her history. A lot of them come to us that way, without a past attached, and we have made our peace with not knowing. What we could give her was a name. She got a flower, like several others who came in around the same time, and she stopped being a description and became somebody. She is a standard donkey in the main pasture, growing up here, and she will never have to be the red female baby again.

Levi came out of a ship pen in Tennessee with his mama Ruthie and one other girl who had already lost her foal before we got there. He is the best example I know of what love can do. He runs up to everybody in the pasture, every single time. He wants to be kissed on and snuggled and he does not care who you are, he has decided you are his. Nothing about where he started shows on him anymore. Not one bit of it. His mama Ruthie is here with him, and she has come a long way herself watching how much we love her boy. And Willow, our big Belgian draft mare, has a soft spot for him that is something to see.

Barney came to us pregnant. Whoever had her before either did not know or did not care, and she arrived carrying a foal into a situation nobody had planned for. That happens more than you would think. A jenny gets passed along, nobody checks, and then one morning there is a baby. Except by the time hers came, she was already here. Safe, fed, watched over, with people who knew what to do. Her daughter was born on this farm and has never known anything else. We named that foal Esperanza. It means hope. Barney is out in the main pasture and her girl is here too. Whatever her life was before, the most important thing that ever happened to her happened after she got here.

Emma is Cash's mama, and she and Lizzie were the first two donkeys we ever had. If you want to know how a family ends up with a hundred rescued donkeys, start with those two. They are the ones who made us fall in love with donkeys in the first place. We got to meet Emma when she was only a few weeks old. She was a first time mama when Cash came along, and the hormones got the better of her. It happens, and it is nobody's fault, and it is the reason we ended up bottle feeding him around the clock. She has been an amazing mother ever since and has never once had that trouble again. She has raised three boys on this farm now. Cash, then Leo, then Scout. Every one of them turned out well and every one of them is still here. These days she gets to be in the same pasture as all three, which is exactly where she wants to be. And after all these years she and Lizzie are still best friends. The two of them started this whole thing together and they are still side by side.

Belle came to us as one of nine donkeys from a single home. Their owner loved them the way you love animals you have had a long time. Then a major change came into her life and the math stopped working, and she made herself face it. She could not keep them. So she found them a place and sent all nine together rather than parcel them out. We say ultimate act of love a lot around here. This is what we mean by it. Belle is a little white mini and she came off that trailer with her whole world still around her. Not one of those nine had to start over alone.

Berry came from Peaceful Pastures, the rescue that has mentored us since the beginning. When they needed to move a group of jacks, those donkeys came here. Berry was number five in that count. People sometimes assume every rescue animal has a horror story behind it. A lot of them do. But plenty arrive the way Berry did, passed between good people who were both doing their best with the room they had. He is gelded now and he has been here long enough that nobody thinks of him as new. He is just Berry, out in the main pasture, one of ours.

Bourbon came here as one of nine, all from one home, all on one day. Their owner hit a major change in her life and knew she could no longer give nine donkeys what they needed. She did not wait for it to get bad. She surrendered every one of them to us together so the herd would stay whole. We have a lot of respect for people who make that call. It looks like giving up and it is the opposite. Bourbon is a mini in the main pasture and most of the nine are still right there with her.

Cash is the reason all of this exists. We found him at the very moment he was born, rejected by his mama with no chance at all on his own. Finding him right then, right at that moment, was nothing short of a miracle. We bottle fed him around the clock and sat up through every hard night and fought for him one day at a time. He has done more fighting than any of us since. He survived being run over. He survived a major surgery. And he is still here, still going, still himself. There is something about him that people feel the second they meet him. He is magical and he is special, and we have watched it happen with visitor after visitor who came to see a donkey and left changed. He is also a complete rascal who will sneak right into the house the second nobody is looking. His mama Emma is here. His daddy Shrek is here. His brothers Leo and Scout are here. He never has to be alone again.

Cocoa came here from Peaceful Pastures, the rescue we learned from. They had a group of jacks that needed to move and we took them in together. He was Male number four when he stepped off the trailer. There is nothing dramatic in his file. No injury, no cruelty case, no last-minute save. He was simply one of many, and being one of many is its own kind of overlooked. He is gelded now, he has a name, and he is available for adoption. Somebody could make him the only one for a change.

Leo is one of a kind. He is Cash's little brother, and he is still so bonded with his mama Emma that being anywhere near her is his favorite place to be. He has a bray unlike any other donkey on this farm. It sounds like a grumpy old man, and once you have heard it you will never mistake him for anyone else. When somebody comes out to meet him, he pushes himself right into you. He just leans in and stays there. He is loving and sweet and he does not do anything halfway. And he is fast. Cash fast. Scout too. Those three boys can move.

Cumberland is named for the river. He came to us from Peaceful Pastures, the rescue that mentored us when we were figuring out what we were doing. A group of jacks needed somewhere to go and we had room, so they came here. He arrived as Male number three. Several of that group got river names, because they came in together and needed names fast and Tennessee has good ones to give. He is gelded now. He is a standard donkey in the main pasture and he is available for adoption, and somebody is going to be glad they picked him.

Dobbie came to us as one of nine. Nine donkeys, one home, one woman who loved every last one of them. Then life changed on her in a way she could not plan around, and she had to face the fact that she could no longer give them what they needed. She could have let it go on too long. People do. Instead she picked up the phone and asked for help, and she sent all nine of them here together so they would be safe and so they would not be split apart. That is the ultimate act of love. It costs the person everything and it saves the animal everything, and we have a lot of respect for the ones who choose it. Dobbie is a mini, he is in the main pasture, and he came here already knowing what it feels like to be somebody's.

Dogwood has a best friend, and her name is Halo. We know this because for a long stretch that is how we told them apart. One of them was Dogwood and the other one was the friend, and they were never in two different places long enough for it to matter which was which. Donkeys do this. They pick somebody and they stay picked. It is not a preference the way people mean it, it is closer to a decision they make once and then never revisit. Dogwood is a standard donkey in the main pasture and she is available for adoption. Halo is too. If you are looking at one of them, look at the other one as well. They are a set.

Donkey Boy came to us from Illinois with his two sisters, Gracie and Mama. Donkey Boy has been loved his whole life. Sadly his owner is having health issues, and in the ultimate act of love she surrendered him to us to make sure he had the best care and life. Donkey Boy loves standing by the fan, and he always brays when he sees me.

Echo is Lettie's mama. For a long while that is exactly how she was listed in our notes, and there is something honest about it. She was the one who belonged to the baby everybody was besotted with. The baby got the attention and Echo got on with the work. We do not know where the two of them came from. No history arrived with them and none has surfaced since. But she raised that foal here and she raised her well, and Lettie turned out to be everybody's favorite for a reason. Some of that is just who Lettie is. A good bit of it is Echo. She is a standard donkey in the main pasture and she is available for adoption. She has earned somebody looking at her first for a change.

Enzo arrived here as part of the Georgia 8. Eight donkeys from one home in Georgia, surrendered by an owner who had fallen on hard times and refused to let them suffer for it. She could have done a lot of other things. She chose the one that cost her the most and served them the best. Because of her, Enzo has never had a reason to be afraid of a person. He came to us already knowing he was worth something. He is one of the reasons we say that surrendering an animal to safety is not failure. Sometimes it is the whole point.

Esperanza was born here. Her mama came to us already carrying her, which means this foal was on her way into a situation nobody had planned for, and by the time she arrived her mother was already safe. She has never known anything but this place. No auction, no kill pen, no hard start. Her whole life has happened inside the fence line. We named her Esperanza. It means hope, and it is hard to think of a better word for a baby born to a rescued mother on the far side of everything her mama went through. She was shy for a long time, which surprised us given how she came up. She took her time deciding about people. But she got there, and now she is a complete lovebug. Her mother is here too. She never had to leave her.

In our notes, Fern is Large Momma. That is the name she came in under and it is the only clue we have about her. It tells us two things. She was a big girl, and she was somebody's mother. The rest is gone. We do not know where she came from, how many foals she raised, or what happened to any of them. Whoever could have told us did not, and the record simply starts on the day she arrived. She is a standard donkey in the main pasture. She has been a mother, and somewhere out there is a life she had before this one that nobody wrote down. She has this one now, and this one we keep track of.

Fonzy was a mess when we got him. His hooves were in terrible shape, the kind that come from years of nobody looking. He was carrying a heavy matted coat he could not shed on his own. And he was scared of everything, which is what happens when nothing good has come from a person in a long time. We rescued him, but Melissa started his healing before we ever brought him home. She took him into quarantine and did the first hard stretch of the work, the unglamorous part that nobody posts about. By the time he came to us he had already been given a running start. He is named for her place. Today he is a happy lovebug. Not cautiously friendly, not coming around slowly. A lovebug. If you saw him now you would not believe the animal we started with.

Freckles came to us from a kill pen in Texas. He is blind, and so is Pippi. The two of them met in that pen, and they had all of two days together before they shipped out to us. Two days was all it took. They bonded for life and they have not been apart since. He is the sweetest boy. Neither one of them has ever seen the other. They find each other by sound and by nearness, and it has never mattered one bit that they cannot see.

We pulled Frosty out of an auction here in Tennessee. He is blind, and a blind donkey at an auction is about as vulnerable as an animal can be. Nobody in that place was going to look out for him. He is still unsure of himself. He carries a little hesitation with him and he probably always will, because whatever happened before we got him taught him to expect the worst. But he is sweet as can be. That part never got taken from him. He lives out in the blind pasture now, with others who cannot see either. There is nothing for him to be afraid of out there, and slowly, he is starting to believe it.

Geoffrey was a baby when he got here. Our notes say young baby, which is not much to go on but tells you the important part. He was small enough that somebody wrote it down twice. A foal who needs rescuing means something went wrong for his mother, and we do not know what. That thread does not lead anywhere in our records. It is one of the things about this work that you have to make peace with. You get the animal, you do not always get the story. Around the barn we called him Birch. His adopting family chose Geoffrey, which is a very serious name for a donkey and suits him better than it should. He grew up here. Whatever the first weeks of his life were, they were the shortest part of it.

Gertie is our oldest resident. She is in her late forties, which for a donkey is a long and remarkable life, and she came to us from Georgia as one of eight who arrived here together. Their owner had fallen on hard times. Not neglect, nothing cruel. She simply reached a point where she could no longer give them what they needed, and rather than let them slip through the cracks she made sure they landed somewhere safe. That is one of the hardest things a person can do and we have never forgotten it. Her daughter Nellie came with her, and the two of them have not been apart since. Nellie watches over her mama. At Gertie's age that means something, and we let those two be exactly as connected as they want to be. The small pasture up by the house carries her name.

Gib came to us as one of a group, and when he arrived we did not know much about him at all. Not his history, not his age, not who had him before. That is more common than people expect. Animals move through a lot of hands and the story does not always travel with them. What we could do was give him a name and a place, and we did. He is a mini in the main pasture and he has been here long enough now that he is simply one of ours. Whatever the first part of his life was, this is the rest of it.

Giraffe was our first rescue. She came to us back in Florida, before Tennessee, before the hundred acres, before any of this was a thing with a name. Up to that point we had only ever had mini donkeys, so when she stepped off that truck we could not believe the size of her. She is a standard, which we understand perfectly well now, but standing there that day she looked about ten feet tall. She looked like a giraffe. So that is what we called her, and it stuck. Her son came with her. He is Alexander now, though we called him Eyore for years, and the two of them are still bonded all this time later. Years and a whole move to another state, and they are still each other's. She was the first. Everything since has followed from her stepping off that truck.

Goldie came to us from Pam's rescue alongside Lucky. Pam was a friend of ours and she is gone now, and these two are part of how we remember her. Goldie was scared. Not shy, not standoffish. Scared, in a way that told you something had happened to her and she had not put it down yet. She has come so far. That is the whole story with her and it is the part I am proudest of. The distance between the horse who came off that trailer and the one out there now is enormous, and every inch of it was hers to travel. Nobody could do it for her. She and Lucky were our first horses. We did not know then what they were about to teach us.

Around the barn, Grace came in as Snowbird. A little white mini, and that is most of what we can tell you about where she started. We do not know her history. She arrived without one, the way a lot of them do, and nobody sent along an account of who had her or what her life looked like before. So we cannot give you her past. We can tell you she is here, she is safe, and the name her adopting family chose for her fits her better than they probably knew. Grace is what she got. She did not have to earn it and nobody made her prove she deserved it.

Gracie came to us from Illinois along with her mama and with Donkey Boy. Their owner was facing health problems of her own, and she made the hard choice to let them go so they would be cared for. That is not giving up on an animal. That is loving one. Gracie is the outgoing one. She loves attention and she will come find you to get it, and she has never seen a reason to be shy about any of it. She and her mama are inseparable. Wherever one of them is, the other is not far.

Gracie's Mama came to us from Illinois with her daughter and with Donkey Boy. Their owner was facing health problems of her own and made the hard choice to send them somewhere they would be looked after. We do not take that lightly. She is still shy with us. She hangs back and watches and decides things in her own time, and we are letting her. There is no hurry here and there never will be. What she is not shy about is her girl. She and Gracie are bonded through and through, and you will not find one of them without the other close by.

Gus is my favorite old man on this farm. I am allowed to say that. He keeps to himself. While the rest of the herd is doing whatever the herd is doing, Gus is off on his own, and he likes it that way. He is not lonely and he is not left out. He has just reached the age where he knows what he wants. But after every single feeding, he comes to get loved on. Every time. That is his part of the day and he does not miss it, and neither do I. He spent years being who knows what to who knows whom. Now he is an old man with a routine and somebody who looks forward to it as much as he does.

For a long time, Halo did not have a name of her own in our notes. She was Dogwood's best friend, and that was enough to identify her, because where you found one of them you found the other. That is not a bad way to be known. We do not have her history. It did not come with her. But whatever she went through before she got here, she came out of it able to attach herself to somebody completely, and that says something about her. She is a standard donkey in the main pasture and she is available for adoption. So is Dogwood. They came into this together. It would be a fine thing if somebody kept them that way.

Houston came out of Texas with her son Tex. The two of them were dumped at auction, the way far too many good animals are, by somebody who decided they were not worth keeping. They were wrong about that. She is such a good mama. Steady, watchful, patient with him in a way that never had to be taught. Whatever she went through before she got here, it never touched the part of her that takes care of her boy. She and Tex both made it out, and they both made it here.

Iris came to us as a mother. That is the one thing our notes are sure of. She had a foal with her or she had recently had one, and somebody made a point of writing it down so she would not get separated from whoever belonged to her. Beyond that, nothing. No origin, no age, no record of where she had been or how many she had raised before. She is a standard donkey in the main pasture, named for a flower like several who came in around her. Whatever she did before she got here, she did it without anybody keeping track. She does not have to do that anymore.

Jenny is a jenny, which is the word for a female donkey. Somebody named her that before she ever got to us and we never changed it, partly because it suited her and partly because it was already hers. We do not know who that somebody was. Her history did not come with her. It is a plain name and it tells you nothing about her life, but it is one of the few things she brought along, so we kept it. She is a mini in the main pasture and she has been here a good while now.

Jet came to us from Peaceful Pastures, our mentor rescue, as part of a group of jacks who all arrived together. He was Male number twelve. We mention the number because of what it tells you. There were at least twelve of them, one load, all needing names and feed and space and time. That is what taking in a group actually looks like. We called him Harpeth in the barn, after the river. His adopting family chose Jet. He is gelded now and settled in the main pasture. Twelve became a name, and the name became his.

Jojo is a Belgian draft, and she is blind, and the people who had her decided that made her worth nothing. She was an Amish throwaway. That is the phrase, and it is an ugly one, but we use it because it is accurate. She was not sold on or rehomed or retired. She was discarded. She is a gentle giant in the truest sense. All that size and not a hard edge anywhere on her, even after everything. She is bonded to Spartacus, who is blind as well, and the two of them have found their way through together. Saricka has since joined them, and now there are three of them looking after each other. None of them can see. All of them know exactly where the others are.

JoJo is one of eight donkeys who came to us out of Georgia together. Their owner had reached the end of what she could manage. Life had turned on her and she knew it, and she made the choice to hand them over rather than watch them go without. There is nothing easy about that decision. We think about her often. What she gave us was eight animals who already trusted people. That is a gift you cannot buy and cannot rush. JoJo came off that trailer and settled in like he had always been here.

Jolly came here from Georgia with seven others, all from the same home. Their owner loved them. That part matters and we want people to know it. She hit a stretch of hard times and could not keep going, and instead of walking away she found them a place to land. Eight donkeys, surrendered together, still together. You can always tell the ones who were loved before they got here. There is no flinch in them. Jolly walked off that trailer expecting good things from people, and he has been right every day since.

Knight is a cryptorchid, which means that despite appearances he was still very much a stallion. He has since had the surgery to correct it. We have learned to watch for this. It explains behavior that otherwise makes no sense, and it explains foals that arrive when nobody was expecting any. His son Lancelot was born at Pam's rescue before either of them came to us. Pam was our friend and she is gone now, and a good many of the animals here trace back to her one way or another. Knight is settled now, out in the main pasture with his boy. Whatever was driving him before, it is not driving him anymore.

Lancelot was born at Pam's rescue, before he ever came to us. Pam was our friend. She rescued animals too, and she has since passed away, and pieces of her work are scattered across this farm in the form of animals who are still here because of her. He is one of them. His father is Knight, who came here as well. They are both in the main pasture, which is not something we could have arranged if anyone had planned it. We called him Knight Junior for a long time. His adopting family gave him Lancelot, which is a considerably better name for the son of a Knight.

Laurel came in with a group, and like a lot of them, he arrived without a history. Nobody sent word about where he had been or who had him. We could not tell you what his first years looked like and it would be a lie to try. So we started him over. A name, a pasture, good feed, people who know him. He is a mini, he is easy to be around, and he has settled in the way donkeys do when nothing is being asked of them. He is available for adoption, and whoever takes him on will be adopting the part of his life that we can actually vouch for.

In our notes, Lettie went in as My Favorite Baby. That was not meant to be official. It is simply what somebody typed, because that is what she was. We do not know where she and her mama came from. That part of her story is missing and it is probably going to stay missing. What we have instead is all of it since. She grew up here. Her mother Echo is still out in the same pasture. Nobody has ever asked anything of her and nobody ever will. We are not supposed to have favorites. We have one anyway, and she is right there in the main pasture.

Lizzie came to us alongside Emma. The two of them were our first donkeys, back when we were still living in Florida, and neither of us had any idea what they were about to start. We met her when she was only a few weeks old. She carries the woolly gene, so she is fuzzy all over, and she is exactly as soft as she looks. Sweet and kind, every single day, without fail. All these years and one whole move to Tennessee later, she and Emma are still best friends. They started this together and they are still together.

Lucky came to us from Pam's rescue. Pam was our friend, and she has since passed away, and every time I look at him I think of her. He and Goldie came together, and the two of them are the reason we fell in love with horses in the first place. Before them we were donkey people. He changed that. Somewhere in his life he broke his shoulder. It healed, but it left him with a limp he will always have. It does not bother him and it does not stop him. He is full of personality and he does not know the meaning of personal space. He loves everybody and he wants to be right in the middle of whatever is happening. I call him my boyfriend and I am not entirely joking about it. Pam would be glad to know how he turned out.

Maddie arrived with her name already on her. Like Zack, she is one of the few who came to us that way. Most of them turn up as a description in a notebook and we work out something better later. She was Maddie from the first day and she has been Maddie ever since. Somebody chose that. Before us, there was a person who looked at this donkey and picked a name out for her. We have no idea who, and we have no idea what went wrong afterward, but for a while she was not just an animal in a field. She is a standard donkey in the main pasture, and she kept the one thing she brought with her.

Magnolia arrived in a group, and when she got here we could not have told you a single thing about her. Not her age, not where she had been, not whether anybody had ever been kind to her. Donkeys do not arrive with paperwork. They arrive with whatever they are carrying, and most of what they are carrying does not translate. So we gave her a name that sounds like the South and put her out in the main pasture, and we let her get on with it. She has been here long enough now that nobody thinks of her as one of the new ones. That is its own kind of history, even if it is not the kind you can look up.

Maple came to us from Peaceful Pastures, the rescue that taught us how to do this. They have been at it far longer than we have, and when we were starting out they were the ones we called with questions. When they needed to move a group of jacks, we took them. That is what a mentor relationship looks like once it goes both directions. He arrived as Male number one. That is not a name, it is a place in a line, and he had it before he had anything else. Maple is the oldest of that group. He is gelded now, he is settled, and he has a name that belongs to him alone.

Midge arrived as one of nine donkeys from the same home. Their owner had reached a major turn in her life and could not keep them any longer. She loved them, and she showed it by making the hardest call available to her. All nine surrendered at once, kept together, handed over to people who would take it seriously. Midge is one of the little ones. A mini in the main pasture, still surrounded by most of the herd she grew up in. She is available for virtual adoption, and she is still waiting for somebody to pick her.

Millie is a Mammoth, the largest donkey there is, and when she got here she could barely walk. She had a tendon injury that had gone untreated and a pressure sore so large and so infected that it had maggots in it. You could smell her before you reached her. More than one vet had already looked at her and declined to touch it. We took her to Tennessee Equine Hospital. She went through a massive surgery and then six months of recovery, and there is no shortcut through six months. She lived in a stall right by the house so we could get to her, and Rick and I changed her dressings every single day. You cannot do that for somebody for six months and stay strangers. She grew close to us in a way that is hard to explain to people who have not sat on a stall floor at six in the morning with an animal who has decided to trust you. She has been adopted since she healed, by someone who came along after all of it and kept her name. She is our biggest success story. Not because of the surgery, though that was remarkable. Because of what she chose to become on the other side of it.

Mint came to us from Peaceful Pastures, the rescue that mentored us and still does. He arrived in a group of jacks, sixth in the count. Nine or more of them came through together and every one needed a name, so we worked through rivers and plants and whatever else we had until they all had something of their own. He got Mint. He is gelded now and he lives in the main pasture with several of the ones he came in with. He is available for adoption, and he has been waiting a while.

She is one of the Georgia 8, and she is the only one of them who does not have a name yet. All eight came to us from the same home in Georgia. Their owner had fallen on hard times and could not keep going, and instead of letting them go without she surrendered every one of them to us together. That was the ultimate act of love and we have never forgotten her for it. Her seven came off that trailer and one by one they became Gertie and Nellie and Jolly and JoJo and Enzo and Artie and Rost. She is still waiting. She was loved before she got here. You can see it in her. She has never had a reason to be afraid of a person and she is not about to start. She just needs somebody to give her a name.

Moo Moo is covered in spots and looks a great deal like a cow, which is the whole reason he is called what he is called. Nobody agonized over it. He is still reserved with us. After all this time he has not fully come around, and we are not going to force it. Some of them arrive ready to be loved on and some of them need years, and a few never quite get all the way there. That is allowed. He does not owe us affection in exchange for his feed. He is out in the main pasture living his life on his own terms, and if he ever decides to close the distance, we will be right here.

Nellie is Gertie's daughter, and the two of them came here from Georgia together as part of a group of eight. Their owner hit a season of hard times and could not carry them any longer. Instead of letting them go without, she surrendered all eight to us so they could stay together and be cared for. That took more love than most people would manage. Gertie is our oldest resident, in her late forties. Nellie has appointed herself the one who looks after her. She stays close, she keeps watch, and she has never needed anyone to ask her to do it. Connected at the hip is the only way to describe those two. That is how they came to us and that is how they will stay.

Norman is one of the nine. Nine donkeys came to us from a single home when their owner hit a major change in her life and could no longer keep them. She loved them, every one, and she proved it in the way that counts. She got them somewhere safe before things got bad, and she kept them together doing it. We think about her more than she probably knows. Nine is a lot of goodbyes to say in one day. Norman is a mini and he lives in the main pasture with several of the others he grew up alongside. Same herd, new address.

Around the barn, Olive has always been Mama Bear. Nobody writes down why a name like that gets started. Somebody watched her do something, and it stuck, and now it is simply what she is called. Whatever it was, she earned it, because you do not get called Mama Bear for keeping to yourself. We do not know where she came from. Her history did not travel with her and nobody has been able to fill it in since. So what we have is a donkey with a name that suggests she looks after people, and a past that suggests nobody looked after her. She is a standard donkey in the main pasture and she is available for adoption.

Oscar spent his working life pulling a plow for the Amish. Now he gets to retire, and there is not a soul on this farm who has earned it more. He is the biggest gentle giant we have. All that size and not one ounce of meanness in him. He is blind, and it has never once slowed him down or made him hard to be around. He is trusting and he is loving and he meets everybody like they are already a friend. Everyone falls in love with Oscar. Every single person who comes out here. It happens without fail and it happens fast.

Shrek is Cash's daddy, and Leo and Scout's too. He is famously shy. Some days he will hang back and keep his distance and let everybody else have the attention, and we have learned to let him come around in his own time. It is worth the wait, because underneath all of that he is such a sweet boy. What he loves best is playing with his sons. Put him out there with those boys and the shyness falls right off him.

Peaches is one of the nine. Nine donkeys came to us from a single home when their owner faced a major change in her life and could no longer care for them. She loved them and she said so, and then she did the thing that proved it. She let them go somewhere safe, all together, before anything went wrong. Peaches is one of the younger ones in that group. She has most of her life still in front of her, and she gets to spend it here. That is what her owner bought her by letting go.

Pepper has been with us over a year now, and she has been a good mama that whole time. She has facial sarcoids, which sound worse than they are. They are growths, they are common in equines, and they do not cause her pain or slow her down one bit. They are simply part of what she looks like. What she actually is, is one of the sweetest girls on this farm. Patient, kind, and steady with the little ones. If you only saw a photo you might pause at her face. If you meet her, you stop noticing it within about a minute.

Picasso came here as part of a group of nine, all from the same home. Their owner adored them. That is not us being generous, it is the plain truth of it. But a major change came into her life, the kind nobody sees coming, and she reached the point where she could not care for nine donkeys anymore. So she surrendered all of them to us at once. Together, so nobody got left behind and nobody got split off. It is the hardest thing an owner can do and it is the most loving. Picasso came off that trailer with his whole herd intact and settled right in. He has never had to learn to trust people because nobody ever taught him not to.

Pippi came to us from a kill pen in Texas. She is blind, and so is Freckles. The two of them met in that pen, and they had all of two days together before they shipped out to us. Two days was all it took. They bonded for life and they have not been apart since. Neither one of them has ever seen the other. They know each other by voice and by nearness, and that has been enough. Where one goes the other follows, and not once have they needed to be told to stay close.

Precious came to us out of a Texas auction with her daughter Angel. Both of them were almost certainly slaughter bound. We would not separate them, and we did not have to. They came home together and they have been side by side ever since. She is a gentle, easy girl who never asks for much. Today she and Angel live in the small pasture by the house with Gertie, our oldest resident, and her daughter.

Punkinseed came to us from Peaceful Pastures, the rescue that taught us most of what we know. He arrived as Male number seven, one of a group of jacks who all needed somewhere to land at the same time. Around the barn we named him Clinch, after the river, along with several others from that load. Then somebody adopted him and called him Punkinseed, which is a far better name than any river we came up with. He is gelded now, living in the main pasture with a good many of the donkeys he arrived alongside. Same herd he came in with, better circumstances.

In our notes, Rain went in as the new jack. That was it. Not where he came from, not who had him, not how old he was. Just that he was male, he was here, and he was new. We would like to tell you more. We cannot. Somewhere behind him is a whole life we know nothing about, and whoever could fill it in did not come with him. What we can tell you is what is true now. He is a standard donkey. He has grass and shade and a herd. Nobody is going to sell him on or move him along or decide he has stopped being useful. He is available for adoption. Anybody who takes him on will be adopting his future, because that is the only part of him anybody can actually see.

Red came to us from our friends at Fonzy's Rescue down in Texas. Before that he was a cattle horse, and he was used up. That is the honest word for it. Worked hard for years and then worth nothing to anybody once he could not do it anymore. He has severe navicular and he has Cushings. The navicular is a painful condition in the foot, it does not get better, and it means he will never be ridden again. Every month he needs special shoes just to be comfortable standing in a field, and he gets them from one of the best farriers in the world. That is his life now and it will be for the rest of it. Except here is the thing about Red. He is not bitter and he is not soured and he did not decide people were the enemy. He is the sweetest boy on this farm and he will come find you just to be near you. Somebody took everything he had. He still shows up for us anyway.

Roan came to us as Jack number two. There was a jack number one, and there was him, and that is genuinely as much as the record holds. No origin, no age, no history. Two donkeys arrived and somebody wrote down which was which so they could be told apart at feeding time. We named him Roan. It is not a grand name and he did not do anything heroic to earn it. He simply needed one, the way everybody does. He is a standard donkey in the main pasture and he is available for adoption. Whoever picks him will know more about him within a month than we have managed to learn in all this time, because they will be paying attention to the part that is still being written.

Rooster is a very well-trained horse and has begun working with Josh. Our hope is that one day he will lead our riding program here at the rescue. Sweetest boy

Rost is one of the Georgia 8, a group of donkeys who all came to us from the same home when their owner fell on hard times and made the loving choice to surrender them rather than let them go without. She arrived carrying a wound from a snake bite. It has healed, and these days you would never know to look at her. That is the thing about her group. Every one of the eight came in already knowing what care felt like, so the healing part was mostly physical. The trust was already there.

We do not know Rusty's story. He came to us without a history, and whoever had him before did not send one along. Around the barn he has always been Old Man. He had some years on him when he got here, and there is no telling how they were spent or who he spent them with. So we cannot tell you about his past. We can only tell you about now. He has good grass and clean water and shade when it is hot. He has people who know his name and a herd that knows him too. Nobody is asking anything of him anymore. Whatever the first part of his life was, it is over, and he gets to be an old man in peace.

Ruthie is Levi's mama. We pulled the two of them out of a ship pen in Tennessee, along with one other girl who had already lost her foal before we could get there. Ruthie was scared for a long time after she got here. Scared of us, scared of what was coming next, and who could blame her for that. What changed her was watching us love on her son. She saw it, day after day, and slowly she decided we might be alright. Now she lets me love on her too, gently and on her terms, and it is one of the things I am proudest of. She is such a good mama. She always was. She just needed somebody to prove to her that she could stop bracing for the worst.

Saricka came to us as an Amish throwaway. She is blind, and she was used as a broodmare anyway, year after year, with nobody stopping to ask what that cost her. She is the sweetest girl. Whatever was taken from her along the way, it never once took her gentleness. She has grown very bonded with two of our newer arrivals, Jojo and Spartacus. The three of them look out for one another out in the blind pasture, and there is something about watching them together that is hard to put into words. Her name came here with her, and her name is staying. It is hers.

Scooby is Velma's son. He was only a day old when the two of them were dumped at a Texas auction, and he came home with us out of that kill pen right alongside his mama. He is still very shy. He hangs back and watches us love on the other donkeys, taking it all in, working out for himself whether we are safe. He can have all the time he needs. He still has his baby fur. And he loves Sequoia. The two of them are almost always somewhere close together.

Scout is Cash and Leo's baby brother. Same mama, Emma, who has now raised three boys on this farm. His daddy is Knight, which makes him a half brother to the other two. That is how it goes with a herd. The family tree does not run in tidy lines and it has never mattered to any of them. He is sweet as can be, and he is fast. Cash fast. Those three boys can move when they take a notion to. His name is Scout and it is staying Scout.

Sequoia is a mini horse, and she was pulled away from her mother at only three months old so she would bring more money at auction. Three months old. When we saw her, she was terrified. We could not stand the thought of where she might end up or whose hands she might fall into, so we brought her home. She is slowly learning to trust us. She loves Scooby and the two of them are rarely far apart, and Velma has been kind enough to let her stay right there with the both of them. When she gets excited she takes off running with her tail fluffed up and held high. It might be the best thing on this whole farm to watch.

Smeegle is one of the nine. Nine donkeys, one owner, one very hard day. A major change came into her life and she could not care for them any longer, so she surrendered every one of them to us at the same time. Together, which was the whole point. She was not going to let her herd get broken up on the way out. Smeegle is a mini in the main pasture and most of his herd is still right there with him. That is the part we are proudest of. Whatever she lost that day, she got this right.

Spartacus was an Amish workhorse. He is blind, and they worked him anyway. Sit with that one for a second. A horse who cannot see, put in harness and asked to pull, day after day, trusting his feet and his ears and whoever was holding the lines because he had no other choice. He is a Belgian draft and a gentle giant, and he has every reason not to be. He is anyway. He came here with Jojo, who is blind too, and the pair of them are inseparable. Saricka has since joined them and made it three. They keep track of each other by sound and by habit and they do not lose one another. He does not have to pull anything ever again.

Taku came in with a group, and when he arrived we had no idea who he was. No history, no age, no account of where he had been. We started calling him Batman around the barn, which is the kind of name that happens when a small black donkey shows up and somebody has to call him something. Then a patron adopted him and chose Taku. He has had three names now and he came by all of them honestly. Not one of them tells you anything about his first years, because nobody does. He is a mini in the main pasture, easy to be around, and he has been here long enough that he is simply part of the place.

Tarzan came to us from Georgia. He is in his twenties now, and this is not his first rescue. Before anyone got to him, he had been locked in a stall and fed bread. That is what he lived on. A horse built to graze and move and be part of a herd, shut in and given the wrong thing to eat because nobody thought it through or nobody cared. Somebody pulled him out of that once already. Then he needed pulling out again, and that is where we came in. Here is what gets me about him. After all of that, he is the most gentle, kind horse you will ever put your hands on. He loves kisses. He loves being groomed and will stand there for it as long as you are willing. Not one bit of what happened to him turned him hard. We love him. It is that simple.

When Tellico got here, he did not have a name. He had a number. Male number eight. He came to us from Peaceful Pastures, the rescue that mentored us, as one of a group of jacks who all moved at once. When a dozen animals arrive on the same day, numbers are how you keep them straight until you can do better. So we did better. Tellico, after the river, like several of the others from that load. He is gelded now. He is a standard donkey in the main pasture, he is available for adoption, and he is nobody's number anymore.

Tex came out of Texas with his mama Houston. The two of them were dumped at auction, which is what happens to a great many good animals when somebody decides they are not worth the trouble. A baby donkey at an auction is a hard thing to see. There are only so many places that road goes and most of them are bad. But his mama stayed with him and we got them both, and they came here together. Houston is still with him and she is still watching over him the way she did from the start. He is a Texas donkey with a Texas name and a life nobody at that auction would have guessed he was going to get.

Trillium came to us young. That is the whole of what our records say about where he started. Young male. No age, no origin, no account of the months before he got here. The good part of arriving young is that there is not much behind you yet. Whatever went wrong for him, it went wrong early enough that most of his life was still ahead of it. He has spent the larger share of his years here now, and that ratio only improves. He is named for a wildflower, along with several others who came in around the same stretch. He is a standard donkey in the main pasture, grown up now, and this is the only home he really remembers.

Velma came to us from a kill pen in Texas. She arrived with Sequoia and her own baby boy Scooby, along with Freckles and Pippi. She had been dumped at auction when Scooby was only a day old, and she was terrified. A mama that frightened with a newborn at her side is a hard thing to see. She has been the best mother from the very first day. She never stops watching over Scooby, and she has been sweet enough to let Sequoia stay right there with them too. Earning her trust took time and a lot of patience. Now she takes treats right out of my hand. She knows she is safe here. She lives with Cash's family.

Waylon came to us from another rescue, Fonzy's Farm in Texas. His healing started there, and when Melissa felt he might do even better with us, she sent him our way. She thought he had it in him to be trained to ride one day. He is the absolute sweetest boy. He lives in Cash's pasture and he fit right in from the very first day. He follows that little family everywhere they go, and he and Leo love to play chase. He is still working through some health issues. With good vet care, solid nutrition and the right supplements, we are praying he keeps on improving.

Willow is a Belgian draft horse, and she is the only draft we have who is not blind. I brought her home on Mother's Day. She was rumored to be pregnant, and once she was here with us we confirmed that she is. She was an Amish throw away, a mare who had never once known what it feels like to be loved on. She learned slowly. Now she gets so excited when it is her turn for attention, and she will stand there all day long to be brushed and groomed. For a horse her size she is unbelievably gentle with the little ones. She has a real soft spot for Levi, and the two of them together are something to see. A big gentle giant is exactly what she is.

Winnie is a hinnie, which means her mother was a donkey and her father was a horse. Half mini horse, half mini donkey, and entirely her own thing. She came to us as one of nine from a single home. Their owner was facing a major change in her life and could no longer care for them, and rather than let that slowly become a bad situation she surrendered all nine of them to us together. That is the ultimate act of love. It costs the person everything and it spares the animals everything. Winnie came off that trailer with her whole herd and she still lives alongside most of them.

Zack came to us already named. That is unusual around here. Most of them arrive as a number or a description, and we give them something better once they are settled. He turned up with Zack already attached and nobody has ever seen a reason to change it. Which means somebody named him. Somewhere behind him is a person who looked at this donkey and picked something out. We do not know who they were or what happened after, only that at some point he was not a nobody. Everything else about his history is missing. He is a small standard donkey in the main pasture and he is available for adoption. Whoever takes him on will be the second person to decide he is worth naming.