I love the rythyms of farm life, and the way the animals adapt to change. Two weeks ago, the donkeys were out grazing, and were barely touching the hay. As the cold advances, and the grass dies and browns, the donkeys gather at the feeder every morning, waiting for their one/third bale of hay a day. They hang by the feeder now, eating and walking around. This means winter.

The donkeys have good lives, acres to explore, hills to climb, a feeder with a roof. As one farmer told me, “pretty good for donkeys.”