Erasmus

Island Idylls: Stories of growing up in the Virgin Islands.






Erasmus.

And I'm not talking about the Dutch philosopher (1466 - 1536.)









No, I'm talking about this guy.

I have always had a deep fondness for donkeys. 

At different times during the years we lived on St. John, we owned two donkeys.

Erasmus was the first.

He was large for a donkey standing at the shoulder a good 13 to 14 hands. A male who had been gelded late in life, he retained fond memories of the ladies. At least once he took off running after a female while my sister and I were riding him. There I was on the “rumble” seat, arms wrapped around Erva's waist, hanging on for dear life.

We acquired Erasmus when I was about 6 ½ or 7 years old. Sometimes Erva and I rode him to school, a three mile journey into Cruz Bay that started somewhere around 6:30 or 7 in morning. We’d tie him up under the old tamarind tree across the street from the school and at 3 PM ride him back home.

Erasmus had a few distinct quirks. We learned early on he would chew through his tether rope and go wandering off in search of his favorite snack, a parasitic leafless vine called yellow love.

Yellow love kills what it grows on.

We soon changed the rope to a chain and often wondered what he experienced the first time he tried to chew through it.

Another quirk was what he did when we tried to mount him. He would stand patiently while he was being saddled, the epitome of good behavior. But once one of us went to put foot into stirrup he would kick his left rear leg forward, acting for all the world as if he wanted to get his own hoof into the stirrup and climb up onto his own back. We had to time getting a foot into the stirrup and swinging up onto his back between kicks. Once in the saddle he was generally well behaved.

Except when it was time for me to take my first solo ride.

On this particular day he stood patiently as Mom saddled him. I timed getting my foot into the stirrup, and voila! I was up on in the saddle. The intent was for me to ride around our large yard with Mom and Erva near at hand. But Erasmus had other plans.

Maybe he sensed I was a bit afraid. Maybe he thought, “Ha! Novice rider, I’ll teach her a lesson she won’t soon forget.” Maybe he had an itch on his back. Or maybe he was in a bad mood. Whatever was going on in his donkey mind, it soon became apparent he didn’t want to be ridden. He pulled hard against the reins, dropping his head towards the ground. Mom and Erva were both yelling at me to pull up on the reins. But I couldn’t keep his head up. I wasn't strong enough. He dropped to his front knees. I’m screaming. “He’s gonna roll!”

Mom, calm as anything says, “Just step off when he gets to the ground.” Which somehow I managed to do. And there was Erasmus rolling in the dirt, kicking his legs heavenward like a dog, until the saddle was hanging down around his belly.

When he was through he was easily caught and stood patiently while he was unsaddle, acting for all the world as if nothing had happened. And I learned I could easily step off a donkey should it decide to roll.

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Being Thankful

Today I'm thankful that the cold weather is letting up. I'm not fond of 16 degree mornings.

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What are you thankful for? Have you ever ridden a donkey or spent any time around one? Are you a cold weather person or could you do without it?