Subject: Abandoned donkeys live life of luxury in Cyprus 

  	  				 
	 VOUNI, Cyprus (Reuter) - Jimmy, George, Potter and Porter  
make a mad dash for the food bins, keeping one watchful eye on 
strangers as they tuck into their last meal of the day. 
	 Blossom snorts at a bin and knocks it over, hangs her head  
over the fence and purses her lips in what looks like a smirk. 
	 ``Some are healthy and some are a bit poorly,'' says Mary  
Skinner, a former marketing executive who has taken abandoned 
donkeys in Cyprus under her wing. 
	 A total of 36 donkeys ranging from sprightly five-year-olds  
to ``granddads,'' blind in one eye and pushing 40, live a life 
of luxury in large pens in the shade of carob trees on slopes 
above Vouni village in the wine-producing areas of Limassol 
district. 
	 ``The one thing they have in common is that they are all  
unwanted,'' Mary says, watching her husband Patrick, trying to 
cajole a stubborn donkey into a pen. 
	 Once common but now rare, apart from the occasional tourist  
attraction, donkeys were abandoned in droves in Cyprus with the 
economic boom of the last decade. 
	 The Skinners, from Kent, England, run the island's only  
donkey sanctuary. 
	 ``It is more than a full-time job actually because we live  
here,'' Mary, 59, told Reuters. 
	 The ``Friends of the Cyprus Donkey'' rely entirely on public  
contributions to operate, with yearly and life-long ``donkey 
adoption'' schemes available. 
	 It costs $10.55 to be a ``friend'' for a year, and $105.50  
to be a friend for life. Feed and care of a donkey costs $35 a 
month. 
	 In places like Vouni, a tiny village nestled on the steep  
southern slopes of the Troodos mountain range, one can still see 
donkeys chained to trees or left beside winding, narrow roads. 
	 Donkeys, needing only a quarter of the daily nourishment of  
a horse, were seen as cheap transport in many Mediterranean 
countries. Now they have been replaced by more modern transport. 
	 Collecting donkeys dumped outside their door or left roaming  
in fields after grape harvests, the Skinners have increased 
their ``pets'' from six in October 1994 to 36 today. 
	 ``I wouldn't say most of the donkeys were mistreated --  
rather neglected,'' said Mary. 
	 Soon they will be accommodating six more from Crete, where  
another donkey sanctuary is on the brink of closure. 
	 The fate of the Cyprus donkey is entwined with that of many  
mountain villages. Once, every family had one. But their use 
gradually faded as more and more people moved to large towns 
like Nicosia and Limassol. 
	 Two decades ago Vouni had 2,000 residents. Now there are  
200. Dull-colored stone and mud brick adjoining homes are 
deserted, wooden shutters wide open to reveal dark, empty rooms. 
	 ``Only old people are left. The rest have gone,'' said  
Costas, the local taverna owner now earning a living from 
tourists. 
	 The Skinners offer some of their working donkeys for use  
during the harvest as an alternative to purchasing a cheap 
donkey which will later be abandoned. 
	 In contrast to the forlorn beasts of burden tied to the  
sides of roads, the Skinners' herd are a noisy lot, even the few 
who are handicapped. 
	 George is blind in one eye. Porter is recovering from a neck  
wound inflicted by somebody who threw gassoline over him in May 
and tried to set him on fire. Policemen later found him 
abandoned in Limassol port. 
	 The youngest donkey is five-year-old Phinias, named after  
the village of Phini where he was found. Potter, pushing 40, is 
the oldest. 
	 ``He has barely got any teeth left. He sucks his food,''  
Patrick chuckled. 
	 ``That's Primrose,'' Mary said, gesturing in the direction  
of an animal who let out a hearty snort before tucking into her 
crushed corn, barley and bran. Primrose was abandoned after the 
grape harvest last year. 
	 ``They are usually quite quiet but if another donkey comes  
to take that food away, it will just lash out at it, and if you 
walk behind a donkey while it's eating you might get it on the 
leg,'' said Mary. 
	 Big Boy is one of the star attractions.  
	 ``Enormous, isn't he?,'' said Patrick with a touch of pride,  
patting Big Boy on the nose. ``He is more like a cart horse.'' 
	 Cypriot donkeys are known for their size, usually weighing  
up to 440 pounds. Big Boy weighs almost twice that. 
	 The Skinners dismiss the idea of breeding donkeys.  
	 ``These are all unwanted donkeys and people give us money to  
look after them,'' said Mary. ``So I don't think it would be 
very responsible of us.'' 
	 ``Not yet anyway,'' said Patrick.