On the road: A Horse, a Pony, and a Donkey History Museum
New Harmony, southern Utah: Everyday life as an adventure
Since reading about the roundups of wild horses and burrows here in the USA, horses and donkeys have suddenly become a big part of my life. Currently, I’m looking after a horse and a pony. There are also plenty of wild donkeys in this area - and even a donkey museum.
Since my last few posts contained so much gruesome content, today’s update is a lighter and hopefully uplifting one—and finally, a personal experience. Actually, it’s a collection of personal experiences, as I’m learning entirely new skills during my current stay. That’s why I’m still not in a regular rhythm of posting and sharing, because simply too much is happening in real life that I often need time to reflect on before writing about it. I hope you’ll forgive me.
Those of you who follow me on social media already know that I’m currently in the hamlet of New Harmony in southern Utah. Please feel free to skip the first two paragraphs and continue reading after the photos.
The town which I call my home for three weeks, New Harmony in South Utah, has less than 300 people. The only church is of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, informally known as the LDS Church or Mormon Church. How could it be otherwise? After all, Salt Lake City, the capital of Utah, is home to the worldwide headquarters of the religious community. There, with the Family Search Library, it maintains the world’s largest genealogical collection (see my report). I’ve just read that Wade S. Christofferson, a brother of D. Todd Christofferson, Second Counselor in the First Presidency of the LDS Church, has been accused of and arrested for child sexual abuse.
I look after two dogs, a horse, and a pony. The house is right next to the small post office. From the kitchen and back porch I can see the mountain ranges of Kolob Canyon, part of Zion National Park. Constant rain, unusual for this time of year, has turned the paddock into a giant pool of mud.
The muddy horse paddock has several drawbacks. For one thing, every time I go there, I have to pull on those clunky rubber boots and then, feeling like Santa’s helper, trudge through the sticky mud, constantly on guard so I don’t fall. That would be something! I think of all those movies where clumsy people fall into manure, cowpats, or mud and then, covered in brown from head to toe, cause uproarious laughter. Well, there wouldn’t be anyone here to laugh at me… but I’d rather stay dry.
So I stamp my feet, with a pitchfork in my left hand and balancing with my right, and walk around Sam, the horse, and Peanut, the pony, who would both like a piece of carrot and are therefore stretching their heads toward me expectantly. Peanut likes to roll around in the sand—and now in the mud. He looks the part. There’s no point in brushing his coat. I have to wait until the wet mud has dried. That will take a few days, because now in late autumn the sun is weaker. In fact, it’s already getting quite cold at night. I had expected more warmth from southern Utah. In the first few days, I was also spoiled by the sun, but unfortunately that changed quickly. As long as it rains, Sam and Peanut naturally spend more time in the stable, and Peanut leaves his little pony apples there, which I pile up in a corner with a pitchfork so that the stable and the hay remain clean. I put the hay in a metal trough, but Sam and Peanut like to scatter it around the stable, which they do often. Sam kindly does his business outside.
In dry weather, I use a wheelbarrow once a day to move the load from one pile of horse manure to the next, spear it with a pitchfork, and empty it onto the manure heap. This is no longer possible as long as the muddy soil in the paddock sticks to my boots and the wheelbarrow wheels, making it difficult to push. Is that clear enough? I know nothing about horses. I’ve only herded them once before. That was almost exactly a year ago in Montana, when there was snow. In the mornings, while it was still dark, and again in the evenings before sunset, I had to weigh out hay, put it in plastic bags, and carry them across the paddock to the feeding area. The two horses followed me, one with its head and warm breath close to my face, because it was already nibbling hay from the bag and munching away as I walked.
Here in Utah, it’s finally stopped raining, but it will probably be another week before the paddock is safe to walk on again. Then my stay here in New Harmony will soon be over. Today, however, I managed to groom both Peanut, the pony, and the big Sam, the horse, and clean their hooves. My success of the day! Up until now, I’d only done both with the pony and was still too intimidated by the big horse’s hooves. For anyone who’s as much of a horse novice as I was: The animal has to lift one foot at a time, you grasp the lower leg with one hand, and in the other, you hold a short hoof pick. With it, you scrape out any stuck dirt and stones from the hooves... which can be surprisingly strenuous. I certainly worked up quite a sweat.
Since it’s no longer raining, I decided yesterday to visit the Donkey History Museum in Mesquite, Nevada. I wanted to see unspoiled scenery, so instead of taking the interstate, I drove on country roads. The first 25 miles from New Harmony were unpaved. Because of the recent heavy rain, some sections were still deep mud, with trucks and other large vehicles having carved wide ruts into them. I struggled to keep my small SUV from skidding—and that was on a relatively narrow, sandy road, often flanked on both sides by a ravine or mountainside. Only when I reached paved roads did the steering become easier, but also less exciting. The view was still just as breathtaking, but now more expansive and flatter, occasionally still interspersed with the red mountains typical of this region.
Funny thing: On the way, I drive through three US states within half an hour: from Utah to the southern tip of Arizona and from there to western Nevada. Each time, a charming female voice greets me from my smartphone: “Welcome to Arizona!” “Welcome to Nevada!”
Then I finally arrive at the Historical Donkey Museum. I’m meeting Michelle Butz here. We’re both members of the peace organization Servas and briefly met in Salt Lake City last year.
As mentioned before, I first became interested in donkeys when I read about the roundups, the roundups of wild horses and donkeys in the western United States. The final spark came from musician Will Stenberg’s Facebook posts about his beloved donkey, Gage (see my story below). When I was in Oregon in October, I visited the Oregon Donkey Sanctuary, where Gage had spent the last few years. During my further research, I spoke with Mark Meyers, the founder and director of Peaceful Valley Donkey Rescue, the largest conservation project in the US, home to 4,000 wild donkeys. He and his wife, Amy, also established the donkey museum in Mesquite. Meyers is an author, photographer, and videographer. He has written several books about wild donkeys. He also took many of the photos in the museum and the videos that play on a loop. They can also be viewed on the Peaceful Valley Donkey Project website or on YouTube. After his first documentary, “The Plight of the American Donkey,” he turned to “Donkeys in the Caribbean” and then filmed “Without a Voice” about the mass killing of wild donkeys in Australia.
What more can I write without giving too much away? German public radio has commissioned me to write a travel story about wild donkeys, so you’ll be reading and hearing quite a bit more about these animals on my website. Suffice it to say, before four-wheeled jeeps existed, various armies used donkeys as pack animals. Donkeys also hauled people’s belongings when they settled the western United States. In many countries, especially poorer ones, but also in Greece, donkeys are still used as pack animals today. Originally desert animals, they can survive for several days without water, are more robust than horses, and less skittish.
In the “War Gallery” of the Donkey History Museum, dozens of historical black-and-white photographs from the 19th and 20th centuries hang on the wall, depicting donkeys in various warfares. I find one photograph particularly moving: a French soldier carrying a baby donkey on his back during the Algerian War in the 1950s. Another photograph from World War II shows a donkey wearing a gas mask, soldiers’ boots, and carrying canteens.
What I find at least as fascinating as the photos themselves is that I see the inscription on all of them: Norbert Schiller Collection. The name sounds quite German. Right. Or rather, Austrian: Norbert Schiller, according to his online platform Photorientalist, is an American-born Austrian photographer who worked as a news and press photographer in the Middle East and Africa for international news agencies, the New York Times, Getty Images, and Der Spiegel. He reported on, among other things, the Iraq Wars, the Middle East conflict, Salafist uprisings, and famines in the Horn of Africa. He has also published books about the region. The “Photorientalist” platform presents his personal collection of historical photographic prints and negatives from the Middle East and North Africa, which he has amassed over three decades through travel and purchases at flea markets, bazaars, and from dealers. Wow! And Norbert Schiller, born in 1958, is even still alive.
I feel energized by the day’s experiences and drive the car back with a spring in my step. This time I take the Interstate 15, which saves me a whole hour of driving. Enough for today. Besides, while there aren’t any donkeys waiting for me “home” in New Harmony, there are two adorable dogs, as well as a presumably hungry horse and a pony.
This text was first published on my German website and translated by me.