Post by Christine on Apr 27, 2008 4:55:13 GMT -5
Threatened Calif. wild burros collared, fitted with reflective gear
By David Kelly, Los Angeles Times | April 27, 2008
LOS ANGELES - Former rodeo rider and jockey Kim Terry has been around all sorts of animals his whole life, but it's the wild burros that have snorted and kicked their way into his heart. He loves their moxie, respects their survival skills, and is smitten with what he calls their "fantastic personalities."
"Just don't get behind them," he advised recently as he prepared to flush a dozen or so from a holding pen.
Terry let rip with a sharp "heyaaaah!" and charged them, swinging a long blue stick. The burros stampeded into a narrow chute. He straddled the bars above them, struggling to fasten shiny red collars around their thick necks.
"Man, that's hard work," he said, sucking deeply for air. "That'll make you sweat."
Terry and a handful of Reche Canyon residents are trying to save the feral burros prowling the badlands of the rural enclave between bustling Colton, Calif., and neighboring Moreno Valley.
The burros are California's only herd on private land. They arrived at least a half-century ago, and state officials think there are about 50 within Reche Canyon. Terry believes as many as 400 others live in neighboring canyons and wander over.
They have become major hazards on increasingly busy Reche Canyon Road, a convenient shortcut between the two cities. Animal control officers said there were 37 accidents involving burros between 2003 and 2006, with 17 of the small donkeys killed. A 21-year-old woman died when her car struck a burro in 2005.
Terry, 55, and Rhonda Leavitt, 50, are now putting reflective collars on the animals to make them easier to spot at night. Terry rounds them up while Leavitt makes the collars.
"I go to thrift stores to get my belts, then sew on this reflecting tape," she said recently as she sat in the back room of her hilltop house, carefully feeding belts through an old sewing machine. "I can make 10 or 15 in a couple hours."
Two notches on the sewing table mark how long a belt must be to fit a burro's neck. Style isn't a question.
"They don't care what they look like," she said. "And the belts reflect like you wouldn't believe."
Leavitt, who operates a water truck service, has started Reche Canyon Burro Support to raise money for hay, veterinary care, and more corrals.
She said the problems occur during dry periods, when burros wander in search of water. One side of the road has natural springs. Leavitt puts out water on the other side to try to keep the animals from crossing.
"I now go through 1,000 gallons of water a day in summer because 40 burros come," she said. "They wait for me to show up."
Canyon resident Cathy Yunker takes in injured burros. She keeps one as a pet - an ungainly 6-month-old named Pumpkin that she nursed back to health after it was mauled by a dog.
Now the little burro trails Yunker around the yard, braying noisily whenever she moves out of sight. Pumpkin also eats two pounds of peppermint candy a week.
"She has the best smelling breath of any burro in the canyon," Yunker boasted as Pumpkin sniffed her pocket. "When I want her, I just rattle the peppermint bag."
Velna Kraeger often lugs sacks of hay and carrots up the canyon to feed the burros. That's where she met Blaze.
"I'd walk up every morning and I'd talk to him," she said. "I'd holler, 'Blaze!' and he'd come running across the field. He'd start yelling at me if I hadn't been there for awhile. Then about a dozen more showed up."
Wildlife experts usually frown on such interactions, saying when animals lose their fear of humans, they can get into trouble. In the case of Reche Canyon, they have said, it's probably too late.
"The burros are already habituated to people," said Rita Gutierrez, field services commander for Riverside County, Calif., Animal Control. "You can find a wild herd where the babies will come up and snuggle you. The bad side is they associate cars with people."
Gutierrez supports the collars and thinks they may save lives.
"It's a clever idea and it certainly can't hurt," she said.
By David Kelly, Los Angeles Times | April 27, 2008
LOS ANGELES - Former rodeo rider and jockey Kim Terry has been around all sorts of animals his whole life, but it's the wild burros that have snorted and kicked their way into his heart. He loves their moxie, respects their survival skills, and is smitten with what he calls their "fantastic personalities."
"Just don't get behind them," he advised recently as he prepared to flush a dozen or so from a holding pen.
Terry let rip with a sharp "heyaaaah!" and charged them, swinging a long blue stick. The burros stampeded into a narrow chute. He straddled the bars above them, struggling to fasten shiny red collars around their thick necks.
"Man, that's hard work," he said, sucking deeply for air. "That'll make you sweat."
Terry and a handful of Reche Canyon residents are trying to save the feral burros prowling the badlands of the rural enclave between bustling Colton, Calif., and neighboring Moreno Valley.
The burros are California's only herd on private land. They arrived at least a half-century ago, and state officials think there are about 50 within Reche Canyon. Terry believes as many as 400 others live in neighboring canyons and wander over.
They have become major hazards on increasingly busy Reche Canyon Road, a convenient shortcut between the two cities. Animal control officers said there were 37 accidents involving burros between 2003 and 2006, with 17 of the small donkeys killed. A 21-year-old woman died when her car struck a burro in 2005.
Terry, 55, and Rhonda Leavitt, 50, are now putting reflective collars on the animals to make them easier to spot at night. Terry rounds them up while Leavitt makes the collars.
"I go to thrift stores to get my belts, then sew on this reflecting tape," she said recently as she sat in the back room of her hilltop house, carefully feeding belts through an old sewing machine. "I can make 10 or 15 in a couple hours."
Two notches on the sewing table mark how long a belt must be to fit a burro's neck. Style isn't a question.
"They don't care what they look like," she said. "And the belts reflect like you wouldn't believe."
Leavitt, who operates a water truck service, has started Reche Canyon Burro Support to raise money for hay, veterinary care, and more corrals.
She said the problems occur during dry periods, when burros wander in search of water. One side of the road has natural springs. Leavitt puts out water on the other side to try to keep the animals from crossing.
"I now go through 1,000 gallons of water a day in summer because 40 burros come," she said. "They wait for me to show up."
Canyon resident Cathy Yunker takes in injured burros. She keeps one as a pet - an ungainly 6-month-old named Pumpkin that she nursed back to health after it was mauled by a dog.
Now the little burro trails Yunker around the yard, braying noisily whenever she moves out of sight. Pumpkin also eats two pounds of peppermint candy a week.
"She has the best smelling breath of any burro in the canyon," Yunker boasted as Pumpkin sniffed her pocket. "When I want her, I just rattle the peppermint bag."
Velna Kraeger often lugs sacks of hay and carrots up the canyon to feed the burros. That's where she met Blaze.
"I'd walk up every morning and I'd talk to him," she said. "I'd holler, 'Blaze!' and he'd come running across the field. He'd start yelling at me if I hadn't been there for awhile. Then about a dozen more showed up."
Wildlife experts usually frown on such interactions, saying when animals lose their fear of humans, they can get into trouble. In the case of Reche Canyon, they have said, it's probably too late.
"The burros are already habituated to people," said Rita Gutierrez, field services commander for Riverside County, Calif., Animal Control. "You can find a wild herd where the babies will come up and snuggle you. The bad side is they associate cars with people."
Gutierrez supports the collars and thinks they may save lives.
"It's a clever idea and it certainly can't hurt," she said.
