We leave this morning for an adventure into the Western Cape. As we head out of town we will be saying goodbye to:
A herd of goats in Graeme Street, crossing the road from a private school to test out the lawns further down on the Rhodes University campus.
The Urban Herd of cattle making their way along Somerset Street.
And farewell to these donkeys walking along African Street.
I wish you all well over the Easter weekend.
Life is not all about straight lines:
Railway line.
Branches too curve this way or that:
Black-collared Barbet.
The tails of donkeys curve to keep the flies away:
Donkeys.
Have you ever seen a square mushroom?
Mushroom.
See the gently curved beak of a young Hadeda Ibis standing on the curved edge of our swimming pool:
Hadeda Ibis.
A strong wind was blowing across the veld when I happened upon these donkeys huddled together facing away from the wind and the inevitable dust that comes with it.
They were clearly aware of my presence
After a few moments the one nearest me turned to observe what I was doing. In two ticks it decided to stroll across to have its nuzzle rubbed gently.
Apart from the increasing Urban Herd, we are also seeing a lot more donkeys around town. Some people pat them and feed them apples or carrots; others chase them away from their properties; most residents have become so used to them now that they simply let them be. The Cock House Guesthouse and Restaurant has taken this tolerance a step further and commissioned a mural that runs the length of one side of the property. I will let the images speak for themselves.
Postscript:
I inadvertently omitted the last photograph showing the tag of the artist of this lovely wall art:
Sadly too, I have noticed that since these photographs were taken someone has spray-painted blue graffiti (of the nonsense kind) over a section of this mural.
I often refer to what I call the Urban Herd, a term loosely used to cover the numerous head of cattle that wander through the suburbs of our town to graze in open parks, on unmown grass verges as well as browsing the street trees. Woe betide you if they manage to get into your garden, for not much will be left after their visit!
Not all that many years ago it was unusual to see donkeys roaming around town. There are now, however, an increasing number of donkeys seen either on their own or in groups of between three and eight. As with the cattle, these all have owners and are collected now and then to pull a cart.
Mostly though they are left to fend for themselves. They manage for their natural diet is a varied one, consisting of grass, shrubs and leaves. Sadly, a number of donkeys have also learned to raid rubbish bins in the street and gather in large numbers on the set rubbish collection days when residents place their black bags on the pavements in the suburbs.
Recently there were several donkeys grazing in an open park.
It is natural that during this prolonged drought period, many residents have become concerned about the plight of these donkeys that are largely left to their own devices. All over town are people who place buckets or large basins of water outside their gates so that the donkeys can have access to water. A lot of people feed them carrots or apples and have taken to stroking or patting them if they can. Most donkeys are docile and respond well to this kind treatment.
According to our local Ratepayers Association, these resourceful animals are quick to identify where they are likely to find food and are prepared to walk a long distance to such locations. I met a woman battling to close her garden gate early one morning as two donkeys were doing their best to get into her garden. “I give them bunches of carrots every morning,” she told me. “They come here every morning to get carrots from me.” It is not surprising then that these particular donkeys make their way to where she lives.
This Association informs us that the owners of the donkeys – mostly from the poorer area of town – prefer their donkeys to graze on the commonage, an open grassland close to where they live. That is the official line anyway. It is difficult to believe that so many donkeys would willingly leave the natural pasture on the other side of town to wander through the suburbs where they congregate in the shade of trees. This seems like a pleasant pastoral scene you might think.
Even though most residents have learned to tolerate the periodic invasions from the Urban Herd – probably because there is no way of getting rid of the cattle – there are some who loathe the presence of donkeys. Some set their dogs on them, while others shout at them or go after them with garden rakes or brooms, sending the donkeys clip-clopping along the tarred streets until their pursuer gives up the chase. A local resident complained that donkeys had ‘devoured’ all his vegetables (did he leave his gate open?), while another complained that “donkeys also pee prodigiously”. To emphasise his point he commented that he was about to lodge a complaint about a blocked sewage pipe near his home “when I realised I was looking at, and smelling, a fresh donkey download streaming across the street.” At this another responded, “They seem ‘cute’ until they behave as if they were in the veld!” Excuse me, are donkeys meant to use discreet toilets in the suburbs?
The old grey donkey, Eeyore stood by himself in a thistly corner of the Forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, “Why?” and sometimes he thought, “Wherefore?” and sometimes he thought, “Inasmuch as which?” and sometimes he didn’t quite know what he was thinking about. A. A. Milne.
Something Over Tea 