Trauma

Today

Living as we do, in a country village, we are treated to a chorus of all kinds of animal noises, day and night. This ranges from the neighbour's cockerels, one of whom crows the theme song from "The Good the Bad & the Ugly" from three o'clock in the morning, to the braying of the resident donkeys.

We were walking up the lane the other day and Paul asked me to show him the location of the Great Donkey Incident. "Of course", I replied.

In My Day

I think it was in about 1993. Our friends the Levetts had come to stay. At that time that meant John, Beverley and their two youngest daughters, aged about three and five. As usual, we had a very convivial Saturday evening. I promised Sian and Sophie that we would walk the dog up the lane the following morning and say hello to the donkeys.

On Sunday morning, Paul was on early shift, John was sorting out some plumbing for us and Beverley, having been thoroughly convivial the night before, was in no fit state to go anywhere. So I got the girls into their coats, selected some snacks (carrots, apple and some toast crusts) for the donkeys, grabbed Caspian and set off up the lane.

It was a lovely spring morning and the little girls competed as to who should hold Caspian's lead (he, knowing that he had children "controlling" him, was very gentle and walked slowly). We turned up the lane towards the field where the donkeys were. The trouble was that there was no gate. To get to see the animals, we had to scramble up an embankment to a gap in the hedge. This was quite hard for the two little ones and I basically had to haul them both up. I looped Cas's lead round a hawthorn to leave my hands free.

The donkeys were friendly and soon came trotting over. All went well as they gently took the carrot and apple from the girls' hands. Then I took out the toast crusts and offered them. Some fell on the ground at their feet. This was the signal for Cas to tear into the field, his lead having come unlooped, and go straight for the toast crusts! Carrots he could ignore but these were rightfully his!

Until that moment I hadn't realised just what an appalling noise two donkeys can make. And we were about three foot away from them. The girls added to it by screaming with fright while the dog raced around the donkeys' feet trying to get at the last of the crusts. I expected to see the farmer with his shotgun any minute. Somehow I had to get hold of Cas before he had his head kicked in, get the two children who were by this time yelling for their mummy, back down the steep bank without incident and get us all home.

I yelled at Cas who generally had the sense to know when he was really for it and came sheepishly back through the hedge. Then we struggled back down and I heaved the girls around the rest of the walk because I didn't think that  Beverley was quite up to things yet. The donkeys continued to bray and their gradually receding voices accompanied us back home.

I don't think that Sian and Sophie suffered lasting trauma, but who knows? Only they can say.