Away in the Manger
Away in the Manger
Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time in the donkeys’ manger, a word I use because their shed reminds me of where baby Jesus was born. It’s filled with straw and my two adorable miniature donkeys, Diego and Carlos. This sturdy three-walled structure has been their home for over 20 years.
’Tis the season to be spending time around a manger; we even have a nativity scene in our living room. But for Diego, it hasn’t been at all jolly. And it’s still too early for him to enjoy the gift of speech animals receive at midnight on Christmas Eve.
Diego’s best Christmas experience was being in a live nativity scene in La Farge, before Carlos was even born. But this season, he’s dealing with founder (laminitis), a painful and serious hoof condition often triggered by a diet rich in grain and treats.
Diego arrived here in 2004 in the back of my friend’s Bronco. At the time, I didn’t have a proper pasture for him, so I fenced off my yard until one could be built. Diego spent his days grazing on rich green grass.
When he wasn’t grazing and I wasn’t doting on him, Diego would stand below my bedroom window and hee-haw to get me to come out. He was lonely and felt I should be with him every second. I tried, but he wore me out. I even tried sleeping with him in the backyard, but when I was in a tent, he couldn’t see me, and I was afraid he’d step on me or crush me when he rolled.
When Carlos was old enough to join us, it was love at first bite! Diego smelled him, gave him a little nip on the rear end, and soon they were playing tug of war with an old tennis shoe. They’ve been inseparable since.
By then, the pasture fence was up, the three-sided hut was built, and a bridge crossed the creek, giving them more room to explore. And explore they did. No more rich green grass, yet plenty of treats: They’d clean up under the old apple tree in the pasture, and when we had a campfire, I’d offer them each a marshmallow.
They loved the campfires too much. Eventually, I fenced that area off from them because Diego would walk into the pit, and I worried he’d catch on fire. By this time, he needed his hoofs trimmed more often than Carlos did, but he’d never shown signs of being ill. Aside from being neutered, they rarely had to see a vet.
It wasn’t until we met Frank, my farrier, that I learned of Diego’s problem with laminitis. Frank explained that this was why Diego’s hooves grew long and misshapen, yet Carlos’s didn’t. Carlos looked like he was wearing high heels; Diego’s feet look more like a clown’s.
Both donkeys were too chunky. Frank said they could live off the scrub in the pasture, and he told me to stop giving them grain and sweet treats. An occasional apple or a carrot wouldn’t hurt them, he explained, but the rich hay and treats would.
When I started getting my grass hay from a different source, the problems worsened. The hay didn’t have any alfalfa, but it was bright green and smelled heavenly. In my excitement at having such appealing hay, I overfed both donkeys.
Carlos started to look more like a pot-bellied pig (and still does), but Diego foundered. His head hung down low, telling me he was in pain. He could only shuffle like someone who’d recently had all four knees replaced. Frank came over and did what he could for Diego’s sore feet, and reminded me about feeding too much and about the richness of the hay.
It took two weeks of feeding them much less, giving no treats, and throwing down straw where Diego needed to walk, to get him to heal. But the day after the new winter hay was delivered, we had a 10-inch snowfall and, worried about the snow and cold, I overfed them again.
Nowadays, Diego rarely comes away from his manger, where I hand-deliver a small amount of poor-quality hay that my neighbor, Brandy, donated. I also take him a pail of water that he occasionally drinks but more often knocks over. I make up for the diminished food with extra hugs.
Soon it will be Christmas. My dream is for Diego to recover and enjoy his straw-filled manger with his best buddy, Carlos. And when I go down there on Christmas Eve, I’ll overhear Diego bragging to Carlos about his claim to fame: his one night in a live nativity scene.
