With the help of a woman named Nelda Auge, who willingly sent my email request nationally to her Donkey Mule Association contacts, I found a donkey to photograph. Mark Meyers in California emailed, saying, “I’ve got some pretty fabulous-looking donkeys here. They’re very photogenic.” I ended up flying to Burbank, renting a car and driving north to the Peaceful Valley Donkey Rescue in Acton, California. Mark greeted me at the gate, wearing a T-shirt with the Peaceful Valley Donkey Rescue logo on the front. On the back was a caricature of a donkey with a quote: The ass you save may be your own. I liked him immediately. He is a hefty guy, bald, with a goatee, and totally into his animals. His wife, Amy, originally purchased a donkey that was in trouble and, before they had planned it, a rescue organization was born. Amy divides her time between being a mother to their five children and being the mother to 87 donkeys. And she couldn’t be happier: “It’s a great feeling to know you’ve found your purpose in life.” Besides the donkeys, Amy and Mark are foster parents to 6 dogs, 2 goats, 2 sheep, 2 cows, 4 pigs, 7 chickens, 3 ducks, 2 cats, 4 parakeets, a hamster, one hinny, 2 mules and 2 horses. Mark enlightened me about the plight of the donkey, which is a much smarter animal than a horse. But people tend to want to control animals, which is why donkeys are so abused. A human will ask a donkey to do something, and the donkey may not want to do it, or may think there’s a better way to do it. When it doesn’t do something, like a horse would, it gets beaten: “Donkeys are conscientious, thinking animals. They’re not stupid, and they want to be our friends.” When a donkey is rescued, it first gets medical treatment, which all need when they arrive. As part of its rehabilitation, Mark will often lay down with the donkey until it’s no longer terrified of humans. He was certain there would be no problem getting the picture because he had, in fact, lay down with each of the donkeys at his Rescue and they knew him well. The whole time I was there, the donkeys were licking his bald head, munching at his goatee, and interacting with him in a clear relationship of mutual love. The only thing they didn’t do was lie down with him. As Mark said, donkeys will only do what they want to do. After five hours of waiting to see if one would join Mark for a nap, we finally decided to photograph him with the two babies. The donkeys at Peaceful Valley have wide-open space, giving them a sense of freedom and the chance to run, which is good for their spirit. And they’re very protective of their human. Mark takes them out packing and says, “They don’t leave my side. They’re completely loyal.” He basically said having a relationship with donkeys is no different than with people. You have to spend time with them, talk with them, and let them know you’re there for them as they are there for you. Interestingly, Mark mentioned that the only animal in the bible that was given the power of speech was the donkey. And I had never noticed – undoubtedly because I had never been near so many donkeys in my life – that all donkeys have a line going from the back of their head down towards the center of its back, bisected by another line that crosses the shoulder blades. You’ll see gray donkeys with this beautiful brown cross. I asked Mark about it: “All donkeys have it. They don’t know exactly why. Folklore has it that since Jesus rode a donkey through Jerusalem while he carried a cross, that the shadow of the cross imprinted on the donkey.” Mark operates the business end of the rescue as well as the training and gentling. He is often seen sitting in a pen with a nervous donkey or going on one of his well-publicized donkey walks. “I’ve never met a donkey I didn’t like. Wish I could say the same about people.” He also kidded that he’s been given a lot of nicknames due to the nature of his work, but his favorite is “the ass whisperer.”