The thing about kilometre 34

By Conrad Beaubien

The one step that seemingly helps me navigate the unknown is to creatively go into the face of it; open to new possibilities best I can. The stance of the coronavirus is one of those unknowns. I’ve pointed my sights beyond the void and while keeping my radar tuned to realities and safe measures, I’m charting new ground. With curiosity as the wind at my back and trusting my instincts, I’m wandering and wondering in what is for me, new and inspiring territory.

The ever-changing light seems to have a recognizable feel as we enter the last month of autumn. It’s now early day and a breeze is sliding across the protected marshlands near Bloomfield; the Millennium Trail at this juncture carries through open spaces, yet distant and sheltered from the highway it extends an intimate quiet. Marsh grasses grow from a sea of hard-boiled tea; in the fields over there a ghost wash of colors linger from recent harvest. The muted landscape holds still as high branches stretch toward an endless sky. It can feel like the roof has come off, as with leaf canopies now gone, shadows lean with the low tilt of Earth. The chill of air reminds us that a calendar isn’t needed in order to know where we are in time; as for our space, we are near Noble Beast Farms where my new best friend hangs out. His name is Thunder.

Thunder is a Standard Donkey in a class described by size ranging from Miniature to Mammoth. While we are not quite eye to eye in height, the tips of his ears nearly align with the top of my head. Thunder and I actually met-up a number of years back on a nearby farm different from his present domain. He was holed up with his buddy Joe, a similar Standard breed. The pair made their way to the County in the care of folks after the donkeys were rescued elsewhere from conditions of neglect. Recently I began to recall Thunder and Joe, and so now those thoughts have steered me to join them anew. No offence to my kind human friends, but I’m now motivated to share the company of donkeys in this time of social isolation. And I’m also all in when it comes to being the target of playful humour about the whole affair.

While I am a lover of all animals, to me there is something about a donkey that intrigues. I have a hunch that the image of a person walking with a donkey has some kind of hold on our collective imagination. I reach for what that might be, describing it as a memory imprint, some kind of age-old icon stuck in our genes since before recorded time? I’m out to see if I can piece together how and why the donkey is shaped into legend and stories that span the globe.

I aspire to learn about equine behaviour as I engage in regular excursions with Thunder. Wherever that takes me, it’s literally a feeton- the-ground inquiry into a topic beyond my experiences thus far. For example, while spending time with Thunder in the paddock early on, I learned to make sure to include his pal Joe while praising—because Joe will demand it, signalling with a firm nudge to my elbow that this is not just a party of two! Once I become familiar with the handling of Thunder, I tell Joe, he can come along on our walks too. He might consider it under a nom de plume he responds, something such as ‘Lightning’ par example?

And then there’s Micah the fjordhest—a Fiord horse. Micah arrived at Noble Beast farm via the state of Maine in the US where he was a school horse. With all the horse sense in the world and a character in his own right, Micah, at 15 hands is a stocky, light draught horse whose breed originates in the mountainous regions of western Norway. Together the trio of horse and donkeys make up what I perceive to be a little or yet not so little family, considering their combined weight of nearly a ton-and-a half. They share a large paddock and have unrestricted access to the comfort of dry stalls in a barn, and so it was near the beginning of the reacquainting process that I witnessed the extent to which animals bond.

Nadia Knarrcoh and Paul Basitaanssen are the owners of Noble Beast Farms. They have caringly initiated me into the world of large domesticated animals. As a for instance, part of the process of temporarily removing one member from the animal family is the fact those left behind get very anxious. Micah can get into frenzy therefore the process needs to be slow and mindful to what is going on. I have to admit that I soon picked up on their anxiety as anyone of us can easily identify with the animals’ response in terms of our own human experiences. Ever left your kiddo at a kindergarten class?

Once the hellos between man and beast were satisfied, Paul demonstrated how to put a halter on Thunder. Simple things. like what part goes above the nose and finding the buckled piece to attach behind those long ears, like most things of detail it takes full concentration on my part because I’m easily lost in space. Simply put, I have to work at concentration.

When ready to leave the paddock with Thunder his mates are eager to follow; Paul will distract and manage them as we slide the gate board, leaving just enough space open for Thunder and I to exit and then it’s quickly closed. Micah is first to let us know he’s pissed off at not being able to follow. One morning we waited in the paddock as Nadia saddled Micah and rode him in an adjacent paddock to help calm his unease. Meanwhile Paul stayed with Joe to also reassure him that they were not alone and Thunder would return. Honestly, on the first go-round of this experience I felt like I was a crow stealing the eggs out of a robin’s nest and about to be slammed with bad karma as I skulked off into the distance with Thunder in tow.

So the plan on initial sojourns was to remain close by and in view of the other animals. The basic concept began to sink in all-round: Thunder leaves; Thunder comes back…and guess what? Everybody gets carrots! So that is how I have begun this new adventure, quickly getting the idea of the feelings of animals while realizing I have signed up for Behavioural Sciences 101 as it applies to them, or actually as it applies to many of us, come to think. The lessons to be had are on the agenda for a boot camp for donkey walkers, but you know, I’m already into the rhythm of six feet on the ground and the art of a slow meander. As it turns out, Thunder is a first rate instructor and I’m, well, looks like I’m the ready student.

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