Chalford's donkey derby

Everybody loves a donkey. Big ears and big teeth mean big smiles all round – so it is no surprise that villagers in the Cotswolds who appealed for help with finding their own beast of burden have been overwhelmed with offers. "We could end up with a herd of donkeys," said Anna Usborne, the sculptor whose idea it was. Then she paused, looked out over Chalford Vale and sighed. "But we could end up with none."

The problem is that the media has made an ass of itself over the past few days, trying to get an exclusive on the story – and made some promises that look like falling by the (ahem) bray-side.

One national newspaper said it would buy a donkey for Chalford in return for a photoshoot. "We gave them that," says Ms Usborne, 33. "We haven't heard a dicky bird since." Then a television company shipped two donkeys over for the afternoon and said villagers could have one of them – but it was only a baby, and not big enough to do the job. "They wanted me to take it there and then," says Ms Usborne. "But I need to take advice. This is an animal we are hoping to get, not a washing machine."

She is still hopeful about the offer though – and has several more from private individuals to explore. Donkeys were used until the Fifties in Chalford, which sits in a deep gorge near Stroud called the Golden Valley. Once a wealthy cloth-making town in the 1700s, it has many beautiful, honey-coloured Cotswold stone cottages gathered tightly on the hillside among higgledy-piggledy gardens and drystone walls. Many are completely inaccessible by car – the only way to them is up winding "donkey tracks", so-called because the animals used to haul coal and supplies from the canal and railway below.

"A donkey is environmentally sound, and it's a lovely, cuddly animal," says Ms Usborne. She came up with the idea to help the local community shop and post office, saved from closure five years ago.

Run as a not-for-profit company, it concentrates on local and organic produce: once nicknamed Hippy Valley, Chalford is prosperous again. "The hippies became highly successful artists," says resident Martin Jackson. None more so than Damien Hirst, whose workshop is in the valley.

After the local paper ran the donkey story on Wednesday, BBC Gloucestershire rang Ms Usborne. Then it was the World Service. Then the Today programme. "I was really excited about that," she says. "I'm a big fan."

Next came the papers. "The Daily Mail wanted an exclusive story," she says. "They would buy us the animal if we gave them that scoop of the first image of a donkey on the path." This newspaper contacted the Mail last night and understands that it intends to make a contribution towards the cost of a donkey for the village.

The shenanigans that followed were almost worthy of Blackie the donkey – rescued from cruelty in Spain by a British campaigner 20 years ago, amid fierce rivalry between The Sun and The Daily Star. Blackie was even hidden in a hotel room for a fortnight.

Nothing like that has happened in Chalford yet, but the escalating interest has been a reminder of how much we love the animals we used to ride at the seaside. Donkey sanctuaries receive more charitable donations than the Samaritans; these animals are the underdog, the clown and the past we're nostalgic for, in one funny-looking package.

On Thursday the Daily Mail photographer turned up with a donkey called Polly-Anna, which the next day's paper said had been sent to villagers "to help them out for the day". Ms Usborne didn't see it quite like that. "They whisked her in and whisked her out really fast." She heard no more of the offer.

ITV West brought along two donkeys on Friday, one of which was eight months old. "They said, 'This could be yours. We'll pay for it.'" The trouble was that she understood it would have to be four years old to be strong enough to deliver vegetable boxes up the steep 100m hill. Anna Usborne will go to see it again with an expert, but says ITV have been "very good to us and very patient and talking it through".

A male donkey costs £300 and a female £600 (because you can breed it). "To bring one out here in a horse box, with two handlers, must have cost more than that, I should think," she says, but she's more amused than complaining. It's a real donkey they need in Chalford, not an Eeyore.