Every morning, while we administer to Fran, put on her cream and check her wounds, Meg comes over to the barn window, and hops on a donkey’s back – Simon, usually. She watches us feed Fran and put ointment on her deep wounds. When we are done, she hops off.  Since the fox, the donkeys ring the barn like guards at the White House. Fran watches closely while we take care of Fran. I do not know what animals think, I do not know what is in the mind of a chicken. I do not know why Meg wants to see this, and interrupts her perpetual search for bugs. Animals surprise me, always. They amaze me. They humble me. In the life of the simplest of creatures, I am reminded of how little I understand, how little I know, how poorly equipped I am to tell other people what to do, how much I have to learn.