Donkeys in clover - but charity leaders call for a rethink

In lush fields of dandelions above the sea in Devon, a white donkey stretches out luxuriously in the sun. Nearby, a group of younger animals bray contentedly. Maybe it's imagined, but their mouths seem to turn up into little smiles.

And why shouldn't they? They may have had a difficult start to life, but their current comfort has been propped up by escalating generosity from an adoring British public over the years, in the form of £20m donations to the sanctuary in the last recorded year.

The donkeys live in the equivalent to what must surely be animal heaven: in acres of rolling green paddocks, where their coats gleam from regular grooming, they enjoy special diets tailored to their needs, and those with white noses have sunscreen applied to protect the skin beneath.

Elderly donkeys have a shed with a rubber floor which acts as a shock absorber to ease their aching legs; those with damaged feet have plastic foot caps attached to protect them; and if a donkey should need medicine it comes in treacle on a brown bread sandwich.

And the pampering pays off. The average lifespan for a normal donkey is 27 years, but here they can live past 50.

Interest in the Devon Donkey Sanctuary was piqued this week by a report from the New Philanthropy Capital (NPC) showing that it received more in one year than several well-known charities working to combat violence against women did between them. The £20m donated in 2006 was up on previous years, when it was £17.8m in 2005 and £13m in 2003.

In contrast, the NPC, a charity which advises on effective giving, found that Refuge, the Women's Aid Federation and Eaves Housing for Women had a combined income of £17m in 2006.

The report provided further evidence of Britain's idiosyncratic culture of giving which tends to well-reward animal and cancer charities, while donations to domestic violence or asylum seekers are decidedly less generous.

The Institute of Fundraising says charities which are under the radar tend to suffer from not being able to advertise and garner sympathy from the public.

"The whole British animal-loving public is partly what drives that, and there's not too many people in the UK who wouldn't have been touched by cancer in some way," Megan Pacey, the director of policy and campaigns, said.

"Whereas, anything that's unsexy such as domestic violence, one-parent charities or refugee and asylum seeker organisations have a really tough job. These are not the kind of organisations that can put signs outside their doors asking for donations."

MEP Mary Honeyball, of the Labour Women's Rights Committee, wrote in a letter to the Guardian this week that it was a "national disgrace" that the public believed donkeys are in greater need of charity than female victims of domestic abuse, suggesting from calculations that the sanctuary was receiving £1,500 per donkey. But this is not strictly accurate.

Last year, £6.3m of the money donated to the sanctuary was spent abroad to countries such as Mexico, Egypt, Ethiopia, India, Spain and Kenya where the sanctuary provided mobile clinics, veterinary aid and refuge for the injured animals who can sometimes be essential to a family's survival.

Domestically it has also worked at designing a code of practice for beach donkeys to ensure (in the age of obesity) that the weight they carry is not over 51kgs, that they take proper breaks and do not work more than six days a week.

Dawn Vincent, 28, the granddaughter of sanctuary founder Dr Elisabeth D Svendsen who now handles public relations, puts part of the charity's success down to the fact people can actually see where their money is going.

Those who donate to the sanctuary are highly valued, she says, and there is always a thank-you letter sent out on receipt.

"Some charities find it incredibly difficult to make money and I can really sympathise with that. We have a cute and cuddly subject, but at the same time we are a really big charity with 400 staff in centres around the world putting together this huge operation."

According to Refuge, the domestic violence charity, one of the problems is that people don't realise the scale of problem and assume the charity receives a large amount of government funding.

"For us the issue isn't about whether people give to animals or women. That was just a comparison to show that while our society is very giving and will provide to some charities, to a certain extent the women's movement has been left behind," a spokeswoman for the charity said.

"People don't want to address the issue. While it's quite easy to put a picture of a donkey on a poster and say let's help the little donkey, you can't do the same thing for domestic violence and it's a painful thing to talk about. We find we are having to dispel the myth wherever we go and it takes a lot longer to get the message out."

The donkey sanctuary does engage in direct marketing and advertising, but around 70% of the charity's donations come from legacies.

Around 500 people, including many of the donors, will descend on the sanctuary site for Donkey Week in which they are able to see first hand how their money is spent.

Jennifer Tucker, who was a regular donor to the sanctuary for many years, ended up working there and is now the website editor. Her explanation for what has become a lifelong commitment may go part of the way towards explaining the public's particular ardour for the donkey.

"People always ask me, why donkeys? I can only say it's just a deep passionate love, really. It's not something you grow out of. When you fall in love with a donkey, you've had it really. You're hooked."

Staff are used to questions about whether it is correct to direct such funds towards hardworking but essentially happy-go-lucky creatures that ultimately might not know the difference.

"I can understand in the cold light of day why it would look like a lot of money," says Debbie Pearce, head of fundraising from the sanctuary. "But at the same time it's people's choice how they choose to part with their money. We market ourselves, people choose to give to us, we don't misrepresent ourselves.

"I think it's people have got such affection for animals generally and they do feel that they are helpless. Animal charities generally don't get government grants, they don't get lottery funding," Pearce said.

Sanctuary staff say they also understand running a charity that is not as popular.

They find it a lot harder, and at times frustrating, trying to raise money for the Elisabeth Svendsen Trust, an offshoot of the sanctuary, which provides riding therapy for children with special needs and disabilities. People seem far more interested in the donkeys themselves which arrive at a rate of eight a week to be cared for by sanctuary staff on sites across the UK and Ireland, afflicted with various forms of ill-health, neglect or abandonment.

Donkeys that are blind are put together, those with respiratory problems are grouped in an area of dust-free bedding and special care is taken not to separate them from a mate or friend.

Maurice Wren, director of Asylum Aid, is resigned to the popularity of animal charities but says he believes the generosity of the British public means there is more than enough for everyone.

"Donkeys are a funny one in that they are workhorses that have experienced a type of callous cruelty historically which helps gather interest.

"However, when you are working in the field of unpopular causes, you have got to be optimistic. In a practical operational sense, I have got to believe that there is enough to go round for all of us. You're always going to get squeezed, not just by the donkeys of the world, but by better resourced charities in your own area. And experience tells us not to waste time and mental health preaching to those who will never be converted." The Institute of Fundraising says that while it is great for people to divert their money into their love of animals, at some point they need to re-evaluate.

"There's something about our human nature that doesn't want animals to suffer as opposed to fellow human beings. Animals are in a different stratosphere - they can't talk so someone has to represent their interest to society, and yet they really add to society," Megan Pacey says.

"But part of the question for donors is, okay, I like donkeys, so let's give to the donkeys, but what other parts of the world should we look at donating to? The question then is, could you look at broadening your giving?"