When we arrive at the donkey sanctuary, the residents are out in the paddocks enjoying the spring sunshine. It’s easy to pick out the retired beach donkeys, their backs bowed from giving rides to holidaying children. One local jack spent his days trudging up and down Hayling seafront, but others are from as far afield as Skegness. Each resident has their own story. Some were beloved pets that joined the herd following a change in their owner’s circumstances or the death of a companion (the stress of bereavement can cause the surviving donkey to stop eating), while others have been rescued from neglect, abuse and abandonment.
The donkeys are in various stages of moult. A few already sport sleek summer pelts, but most are shedding their thick winter coats in clumps, giving them the moth‑eaten appearance of well‑loved soft toys. The youngsters gallop across the grass and flop down to dust-bathe, their lanky legs flailing as they writhe around on their backs, covering themselves with sand and dried soil. The seniors take a more sedentary approach to dealing with their itchy bodies, rubbing against the fence rails and soliciting scratches from obliging visitors. One particularly shaggy-haired individual has a jackdaw perched on his spine, the resourceful corvid plucking tufts of thick, wiry fur from the withers to line its nest.
As we pass the stables, a pair of swallows swoop out through an open door, their cobalt blue plumage gleaming in the sunlight. Donkeys also have a mutually beneficial association with these elegant hirundines, though less intimate than their symbiotic relationship with jackdaws. As temperatures rise, flies, mosquitoes and midges multiply and become more active. Drawn to equids’ sweaty skin like iron filings to a magnet, they cause irritation and painful skin conditions such as sweet itch.
Attempts to stave off the biting insects by tail-swishing, head-tossing and foot-stamping are futile, but relief comes as the swallows cruise low, darting around the donkeys’ limbs to snap up the winged attackers. With a brood of swallow chicks requiring 6,000 insects daily to survive, prime foraging just a few wingbeats from their nest site will be a huge advantage for these parents-to-be.
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