A Donkey Called Mistletoe Read online

  “No, no,” he croaked. “I’ve been doing nothing but resting all week. I’m having a wonderful time.”

  And despite his cold and his hoarse voice, he looked years younger than he had before the play. His face was animated and he was clearly loving the attention. The two ladies who had been playing cards in the dining room made their way over. One had a little bag filled with carrot and apple pieces dangling from her walker.

  “Lovely Maeve in the kitchen gave us these for your little donkey,” said the taller of the ladies. “We thought he might be hungry.”

  “Is he your donkey, Ted?” asked her friend. “How come you’ve got a donkey?”

  Mr. Hobson told them he was a farmer, and they started asking all sorts of questions about his farm and his animals while Mistletoe munched contentedly on his snacks.

  “Uh-oh,” said Tom, nudging Jasmine. “Now we’re in for it.”

  Mrs. Cowan had caught Jasmine’s eye a while ago, but she had been fully occupied with supervising her class. Jasmine had hoped she and Tom would be able to slip away before the teacher managed to give them her attention. Now, though, Mrs. Cowan and the manager of Holly Tree House were heading purposefully toward them.

  “Hello, Jasmine,” said Mrs. Cowan. Her face gave nothing away. “Hello, Tom. Mrs. Bright would like a word with you.”

  Oh, no. This was worse than she’d thought. She could cope with being scolded by Mrs. Cowan, but to be scolded by a stranger was a much more horrible prospect.

  Much to her surprise, though, Mrs. Bright smiled at them.

  “Is this your donkey, Jasmine?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Jasmine, feeling a bit queasy. “But he used to be Mr. Hobson’s. Well, he still is, really. He belongs to both of us. And Mr. Hobson was supposed to be coming to visit him this morning, but then he couldn’t. So we brought Mistletoe here. We’d heard about donkeys visiting retirement places, so we thought we’d do it, too. We didn’t really have time to let you know before we came.”

  “That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Mrs. Bright. “I’ve read about donkeys visiting homes as well, and I thought it was a lovely idea, but I didn’t know of anywhere local with donkeys. But here you are, and everyone is loving Mistletoe’s visit. He seems to have the ideal temperament for it.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Jasmine. “He loves company and he’s really gentle.”

  “We wondered if you’d like to bring him to visit on a regular basis,” said Mrs. Bright. “You’d need an adult to come with you, but perhaps one of your parents wouldn’t mind?”

  Jasmine could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  “That would be great,” she said. “My parents are going to bring Mr. Hobson to the farm anyway, so I’m sure sometimes we could bring Mistletoe here instead.”

  She stepped over to the donkey and scratched him behind the ears. “Would you like that, Mistletoe?” she asked.

  Mistletoe dipped his head down and raised it again. Tom laughed.

  “He’s nodding!” he said. “Mistletoe agrees.”

  When Jasmine heard familiar voices in the dining room, she grabbed Tom’s arm and dragged him behind the Bethlehem backdrop.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” he said.

  “My parents! They’ve come to pick up Manu. I forgot.”

  “You should have dragged Mistletoe behind the curtain, not me. I think he might give us away.”

  “Right, let’s grab him and go. Hopefully they won’t even come into—oh, no, too late.”

  Jasmine’s parents walked into the lounge. They stopped in their tracks, looking utterly confused, as they saw Mistletoe standing with Mr. Hobson and Mrs. Bright.

  “It’s not like we’ve actually done anything wrong,” said Tom. “We only brought Mistletoe to visit his friend.”

  Jasmine strained to hear what the adults were saying, but there was too much noise in the room. Then Mr. Hobson spotted her and Tom peeping out from behind the backdrop. He laughed and beckoned them over.

  They gave each other a nervous glance and emerged from their hiding place. As they crossed the room, they were nearly knocked down by Manu, bounding toward his parents. His face was all smiles.

  “Mrs. Cowan says me and Ben can still be the donkey when we do the play for the town! So you and Ella will get to see us.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Dad. “Mrs. Cowan had a word with us about that. It seems it was lucky there was an alternative donkey on hand today.”

  Jasmine squirmed as her parents turned their eyes on her.

  “These three have done so well with Mistletoe,” said Mr. Hobson, indicating Jasmine, Tom, and Harrison. “They’ve given him a whole new lease on life.”

  “You must be very proud of your daughter,” said Mrs. Bright. “She has such initiative.”

  Mom raised her eyebrows. “Well, that’s one word for it.”

  Mr. Hobson chuckled. “I bet you never get bored with Jasmine and Manu around. You’re very lucky to have them.”

  Mom smiled at Dad. “I suppose we are. All things considered, I suppose we are.”

  “And they’re lucky to have you,” said Mr. Hobson.

  “Mostly, though,” said Jasmine, “we’re lucky to have Mistletoe.”

  Mr. Hobson smiled. “I can’t disagree with that,” he said, scratching Mistletoe’s withers. “We’re all lucky to have Mistletoe.”

  Try taking this quiz to see how much

  you’ve learned about donkeys from reading

  A Donkey Called Mistletoe.

  1. What might you say to a donkey if you want it to start moving forward?

  a. Move on

  b. Come on

  c. Walk on

  d. Go on

  2. Why do donkeys need a shelter in their field?

  a. Because they get cold in the winter

  b. Because their fur isn’t waterproof

  c. Because they’re scared of the dark

  d. Because they get sunstroke in the heat

  3. Where on a donkey are its withers?

  a. At the top of the shoulders

  b. At the ankles

  c. At the knees

  d. Just above the tail

  4. Which of these behaviors shows that a donkey is relaxed?

  a. Swishing its tail

  b. Stamping its foot

  c. Flattening its ears back

  d. Pointing its ears forward

  5. What is the name of the stiff brush used for getting dried mud and dirt out of a donkey’s coat?

  a. A handy brush

  b. A sandy brush

  c. A dandy brush

  d. A candy brush

  6. What might you say to a donkey if you want it to stop moving?

  a. Stop

  b. Stay

  c. Freeze

  d. Halt

  Answers: 1. c, 2. b, 3. a, 4. d, 5. c, 6. d

  “That was a massive storm last night,” said Jasmine to her sheepdog as she clambered over a fallen tree branch. “Did the thunder scare you, Sky?”

  Sky leaped over the branch and ran along the riverbank, wagging his fluffy tail. If he had been frightened by the thunder, he showed no sign of it this morning.

  It was the last Tuesday of May, and the school year had just finished. Jasmine had gotten up early, as usual, and had fed her other animals before walking Sky. She needed to be organized today because she had two rabbits coming to stay for the rest of the week.

  Jasmine sometimes looked after other people’s pets when they went on vacation. The money she made helped to pay for her animals’ food. It was also good experience because she was planning to have an animal rescue center and boarding facility when she grew up.

  They were almost back at the farmhouse when Jasmine heard a strange sound. Frowning in confusion, she stopped and listened.

  The farm was full of noises: birds singing in the hedgerows, sheep baaing in the meadows, roosters crowing in the yard.

  But this was different. It was a high-pitched whinny. None of the animals on Oak Tree Farm sounded like that.

  Jasmine walked past the farmhouse toward the field called the Sixteen Acres, where the sound seemed to have come from. There were no animals there at the moment.

  And then she stopped and stared in amazement.

  Standing beside the hedge was a beautiful chestnut foal. It had a white blaze on its face and white socks on its hind legs. As Jasmine stared in amazement, it lifted its head and gave another high-pitched whinny.

  What was a foal doing there?

  Jasmine’s heart raced as the possibilities ran through her head. Her mom was a vet. Maybe she had brought the foal to the farm to recover after an illness or an operation. She had never done that before, but it was possible.

  But if she had, then why hadn’t she mentioned it? Suddenly a truly thrilling thought struck Jasmine.

  What if the foal was a present? Had Mom and Dad actually bought her a foal of her own?

  Her excitement drained away as she considered this in more detail. She already had two cats, a pig, a duck, a sheepdog, a ram, a deer, and a donkey. Apart from her cats, Toffee and Marmite, Jasmine had rescued all these animals. And she had always had to fight her parents in order to keep them. Every time, they reminded her how many animals she already had, how much they cost to feed, how much space they needed, and how much time it took to look after them.

  But Jasmine was an optimist. Although it was unlikely, it wasn’t impossible. She clipped on Sky’s leash and slowly approached the field.

  The field gate was wide open, and suddenly Jasmine understood how ridiculous her hopes were. Even if her parents had bought her the foal, they certainly wouldn’t have left it alone in a field with the gate open.

  So whose was it, and where had it come from?

  As she drew closer, she saw that something was very wrong.

  The foal was soaking wet. It must have been out in that terrible storm that had blown through. The foal was shivering all over, which could have been from the cold, but looked more like fear. Its nostrils flared and quivered, and the whites of its eyes were showing. Its tail was clamped down against its body. Its ears swiveled rapidly, flicking back and forth, as though it was about to flee at any moment.

  Jasmine stopped several yards away and spoke in a soft murmur, trying to soothe the little creature.

  “What’s wrong, little foal? Are you lost? Where’s your mom?”

  The foal was beautiful, with big dark eyes, a short mane and tail, and long legs. As Jasmine softly approached, it backed away, terrified. She noticed it was limping.

  “Oh! You’re hurt!”

  There was a nasty cut on the foal’s hind leg. The gaping wound looked recent, and there was a lot of dried blood around it.

  “You poor thing. What happened to you?”

  The wound looked deep enough to need stitches. That was a job for Mom, but she was out on an emergency call.

  Jasmine thought quickly. An animal as nervous as this might bolt if anything startled it. She needed to keep the foal safe, but it was far too jumpy to let her approach it. She would just have to shut it in the field.

  “I’m going to close this,” she said as she walked slowly and quietly to the gate. “Don’t worry, you’re safe now. I’ll look after you.”

  Jasmine had never cared for a foal before, but she had dealt with other frightened animals. She stood by the gate, speaking gently, trying to reassure the trembling creature.

  “You’re a boy, aren’t you? I wonder what your name is. Do you even have a name? Are you an orphan? Are you hungry?”

  If only Mom were here. But even if she were, she wouldn’t be able to treat the foal’s wound when he was this nervous. He would bolt if anyone went near him and probably give himself another injury.

  Suddenly Jasmine knew what she needed to do.

  “I’ll fetch some rails and build you a pen. That’s what Mom does if she treats an animal in the field. And I’ll phone Tom to come and help. He’ll be so excited to meet you.”

  She took Sky back to the house and phoned Tom. He was Jasmine’s best friend, and they had rescued many animals together. He lived very close to Oak Tree Farm, so he and Jasmine could walk to each other’s houses.

  “That’s amazing,” he said. “I’ll come over right away.”

  Jasmine fetched metal rails from the lambing barn and carried them to the field one by one. As she approached the gate, the foal backed away, trembling. His ears were pinned back. Jasmine knew from experience with her donkey, Mistletoe, that this was another sign of anxiety.

  When she opened the gate, the foal cocked his hind hoof, preparing to kick.

  “Thanks for the warning,” she said. “I’ll stay far away from your back legs.” As she carried the last rail in, Tom walked into the field.

  “He’s so beautiful!” he said. “I can’t believe he just turned up here.”

  “I know. But he’s so scared, poor baby. Look how he’s shivering.”

  “Do you think he ran away? How did he get that horrible cut?”

  “I don’t know, but something bad must have happened to him. He’s way too young to be away from his mom.”

  “Have you phoned the police?”

  Jasmine didn’t want to admit she hadn’t thought of this. “Mom will phone them when she gets home,” she said.

  “Maybe he was abandoned,” said Tom. “Or stolen.”

  “He can’t have been stolen. If he was, the thieves would have him, wouldn’t they? They wouldn’t have left him here.”

  “Unless he escaped,” said Tom.

  While they constructed the pen, they talked softly to the foal, hoping to get him to relax and start to trust them.

  “His coat’s a lovely color,” said Tom. “I like his white socks, too.”

  “And those cute little white markings on his forelegs, just above his hooves,” said Jasmine.

  By the time they’d finished, the foal had stopped trembling, but his mouth was tight and pinched and his body was still rigid with stress.

  “How are we going to get him into the pen?” Tom asked.

  “I’m not sure. When Mom treats foals, she always gets their mother to lead them in. They follow their moms anywhere.”

  “What about putting some food in there?”

  “I don’t know what to give him,” said Jasmine. “He looks too young for solid food and I don’t know if it’s safe to give him cow’s milk.”

  “Can you phone your mom?”

  “Not really. She’s probably delivering a calf right now.”

  From the orchard came a loud braying sound. The little foal pricked up his ears.

  Tom’s eyes widened. “What about Mistletoe?”

  “To lead him into the pen?”

  “Yes. Maybe the foal would follow him.”

  Jasmine looked doubtful. “He’s not going to think Mistletoe’s his mom.”

  “No, but horses and donkeys usually get along, don’t they? Mr. Hobson said people have donkeys as companions for their horses, and some people use them as babysitters for foals.”

  Mr. Hobson was Mistletoe’s previous owner, and he knew everything about donkeys.

  “Well, if anyone can calm him down, it will be Mistletoe,” said Jasmine. “He’s the kindest donkey in the whole world.”

  Helen Peters is the author of numerous books for young readers that feature heroic girls saving the day on farms. She grew up on an old-fashioned farm in England, surrounded by family, animals, and mud. Helen Peters lives in London.

  Ellie Snowdon is a children’s author-illustrator from a tiny village in South Wales. She received her MA in children’s book illustration at Cambridge School of Art. Ellie Snowdon lives in Cambridge, England.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of

  the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2020 by Helen Peters

  Illustrations copyright © 2020 by Ellie Snowdon

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted,

  or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means,

  graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and

  recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

  First US electronic edition 2021

  First published by Nosy Crow (UK) 2020

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number pending

  The illustrations in this book were done in pencil with a digital wash overlay.

  Walker Books US

  a division of

  Candlewick Press

  99 Dover Street

  Somerville, Massachusetts 02144

  www.walkerbooksus.com

  A JUNIOR LIBRARY GUILD SELECTION

 

 

  Helen Peters, A Donkey Called Mistletoe

 

 

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