2026 State of the Farmlet Address

Friends, donkeys, and countrypeople, 

Putting aside the state of the world (egads!) and the nation (ugh!), 2025 was downright charmed. Here at the Cosmic Ranch, 2025 brought us Moon the laborador in May, Melvin the miniature donkey in June, and Poppy the miniature horse in August. Puck, our visiting Connemara, went back to his family and, although he was a champ and we loved him, we can't say we're sad. You see, the thing about me—Songbird Sparrowgrass—is that I am more of a follower than a leader. I am also, sadly, gullible. I generally believe what I'm told. 

Bird and Puck

Puck, who in the past had to live with people who were less kind than his current people, told me this: "Bird," he said, "they can't be trusted. You must remain vigilent." I, who also in the past had to live with people who were less kind than my current people, believed him. Together, we were vigilant. It was exhausting. 

Melvin, who in the past lived with people who did nothing worse than let him become morbidly obese (also a problem, but not one that harmed his confidence), told me this: "Bird," he said, "they can be worked for snacks. You must remain adorable, and always ready to receive a delicate morsel." I believed him, and together we worked our charms and were rewarded with succulent, low-starch mule snacks.

Melvin demonstrating the art of the deal

Poppy, who has never known a person she didn't like, moved in and said that begging was beneath her, and that we would all get along just fine so long as we remembered that she—who is 1/4 my size and 2x my attitude—is the queen of the realm. We all get along fine. 

Poppy's gotcha day, coming home in the boogie van

2025 also brought the Wedding Festival. My humans, who were married the prior autumn, had a big public reception to which I was not invited and at which I hear there were many delicious snacks including a very large cake and 300 donuts. After this festival, they went for a week about the province of British Columbia upon their motorcycles. I wish them all the best with that—if it weren't for my chronic laminitis and arthritic changes, I would say "ride me!" As it is, I thank the mechanical beasts for doing their service. 

Happily ever after

In late 2025, Farmwife decided that Melvin needed something more than passive exercise in order to lose that pesky weight and so they undertook to develop a walking habit. Melvin has lost about 40 pounds and is well on his way to becoming a marathoner! In fact, they have their sights set on the River and Rails Donkey Dash in Idaho this October, and a longer race at Burney Basin next year. If you a PNW person of the burro variety and you would like to get your human involved in a fun, healthy activity, let us know—we need a Pacific Northwest chapter of the Western Pack Burro Ass-ociation, stat!

Congratulations class of 2025!

2025 also brought two graduations (the youngest larval human from high school, the older weanling human from paramedic school), saw Farmwife complete half her master's degree, and saw human write most of her first novel! No, it's not about mules—but one of the major characters is a donkey. Fingers and hooves crossed for a breakout best seller. Finally, in very big news for all of us, the next generation is here: no, Poppy didn't foal. The humans welcomed a grandchild in the autumn! He is perfect in every way and the cutest baby ever, or so they tell me. I can't tell one human baby from another. 

They say you look more like your pets as you age

In health news, Farmwife got her braces off (a sign of reaching adulthood) and got her first pair of glasses (a sign of aging). At 46, I guess she's smack dab in middle age! She spent more money on her own smile than on mine this year, which is saying something considering the price of a tooth floating these days! Poppy has, according to our vets, a "very complicated mouth" so I think our over-investment in dentistry for people of all species will continue into the year to come. 

Equine dentistry in action

As for the dogs, they are as well as one can imagine—Clover the chihuahua, at 16, is blind and deaf and mostly made of lumps. She is still shiny, though, and happy, as I'm told. She doesn't make it down to the barn much anymore. Blue, at 8, also keeps his distance—not because he is old, but because he didn't get the courage that his heeler ancestors are known for. In fact, he finds hoofbeasts like myself quite terrifying. Moon, the lab, has grown to be a big, shiny girl who is banned from the barn because of her proclivity for playing in the manure pile.  You may remember Tiger the Siamese cat and Roger the tuxedo cat . . . they are well, enjoying middle age in the comfort of a sunbeam in the human abode. 

Moon in front of our little barn

All in all, 2025 was a fine year at the Cosmic Ranch. 2026 will bring completion of Farmwife's manuscript; extension of our paddock paradise by another 200%; more motorcycle riding for the humans; and untold adventures for Farmwife and Melvin as they pursue their burro-racing dreams! For me, it will bring continued, languorous retirement and all the delectable timothy hay I can eat. What more could a mule ask for?

Ears to you,

Songbird Sparrowgrass