Thumbs are overrated

I have told many tales of the donkey.  Not all of them here, but still there are a few:  there was the time he broke the chain holding the pasture gate closed & almost went adventuring in the middle of the night; he was foiled only by my realization that the gate only opened out & parking a Toyota against same gate would keep it from opening.  Then there was the New Years Eve he did get out & I ran after him, shouting all the way to the baptist church before I gave up & then he followed me home.  & who could forget the time he let Captain into the feed room where the last green hay in the county was stored & then latched the big draft horse in there, who had a mild panic attack including diarrhea...all over the last green hay in the county.  The donkey is an ass, there really is no other way to put it.

Today was another red-letter jack ass day.  For reasons known only to herself, Becca has been avoiding the stall I can actually latch shut at feeding times & it is quite the song & dance to get her there.  I would not care except as she has aged Becca has mellowed & she does not defend her food with the vigor of her youth.  Also, she gets a large helping of a more expensive feed because of her age, the condition of her teeth & her impending decrepitude.  The donkey would like some (as would the others, but he is the only one who has figured out she is not as fast to kick as she used to be).  This feed smells wonderful, even to me, but it is much too rich for any of the others & most especially the donkey.   Still from the moment I close that door he works on that latch. He presses his huge cheek plate hard to the stall door, he uses his prehensile lip to flip & twist & test every moving piece.  Because it defeated him it was worth the effort getting her in there.

Last weekend A took a couple of hours & installed the same hardware on the other stall.  No more rigmarole with Becca.  It was a wonderful week.

Today Bert did this: