“What is a farrier”, you may ask.
A farrier is a specialist in equine hoof care, including the trimming and balancing of horses’ (and donkeys’!) hooves.
I will say it was no piece of cake finding a farrier. Farriers aren’t in abundant supply, but we found a traveling farrier, and he turned out to be quite wonderful.
But let’s start on day one of the hoof trimming. That’s right…I said Day One. Apparently, in my mind, I thought that once the farrier arrived, he’d be like the pied piper of donkeys and he would magically lure my donkeys into their shelter, and then they’d stand very still and at attention without a single complaint. So I didn’t do a single thing before he arrived. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
He arrived and we (by “we” I mean “me”) spent the next hour chasing them down, trying to get a halter on them. I tried treats and hugs…I even tried singing for them…nothing worked (maybe my singing had the reverse effect?). I was defeated. At the end of “the chase” our farrier said he could come back in a few days and try again, but he added that he’d have to charge us for the next trip out. I can’t say that I blame him. I would do the same.
As he left, and Wes and I returned to the car, I began to cry. I felt like such a failure. Wes was spouting encouraging words, saying we could look back on this and laugh at our inexperience, and we could remember how hard it was in the beginning. I wasn’t moved in the moment, but I thought of his words a few hours later and found comfort in them.
Four days later Wes and I got out of bed early and went down to the run-in shelter. Wes created a makeshift gate for the shelter. We had decided we’d nail it into place so they couldn’t get out once we got them in there. An hour later, the deed was done, after I miraculously lured them both in with treats, and Wes slid the gate into place. I got halters on both of them, as well. Jack was NOT happy about it, but he succumbed to the inevitable. We went back up the hill feeling quite victorious.
As we got ready to head into town for the day I heard Wes say from the other room, “Uhhhh Nina. The donkeys are out of the shelter. The gate is gone.”
What the FREAK?! How in the WORLD?!
They literally lifted the gate up with what I can only assume was their necks and they carried it about 20 feet from the shelter! What kind of escape artists are they?!
What came next was an hour and a half of trying to lure them back into the shelter. It wasn’t easy. And yet somehow we did it.
Wes put about a thousand screws in the gate to make sure even the Hulk couldn’t break through. And I guess it worked because five hours later they were still inside. And when the farrier arrived we had to unscrew the 8 trillion screws (the number gets higher with each retelling of the story), and he worked his magic.
Joy was a good girl and made us look good. Jack was not so good and fought until the very last trim. Seriously, he was the WORST. I’m surprised the farrier didn’t quit. I was so stressed out just watching the process…also kind of embarrassed. It’s like taking your kids to a family photo session, and hoping the photographer doesn’t hate you and think you’re a terrible mom after your kids scream for an hour.
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Taking us through every step of the process. God bless this man and his patience!
And so ended our first experience with the farrier. His name is Justin Cohee, by the way. And if you’re in Kentucky, you should hire him. He was a saint with our fighting donkey.
I am kind of terrified of the next time the donks have to get trimmed. But for now, I’ll rest easy knowing they aren’t uncomfortable in their own “shoes”.
