Marked by Kindness

These tags, industry tells, are for identification. But when so many are painfully torn out—ripped on fences or cut away by rustlers as “livestock” thefts rise—we must ask: surely there’s a kinder way?

While the law forbids removing NLIS (National Livestock Identification System) tags, perhaps it’s time we rethink the system altogether. Microchipping offers permanence, traceability and tamper-resistance—without that pain.

But here at sanctuary, we have our own way of identifying animals.
We call it kindness.
We call it knowing them by name—and by nature.
And while names are simple to give, trust is not always so easily earned.

In his early days at sanctuary, Two Tags made that known. Wariness shaped his posture. Suspicion sharpened his gaze. And that “ram stamp” on his forehead—calloused, bald and ready—told us he’d met humans and hardship before.
And hadn’t much liked either.

He tested our friendship like one tests a fence. Yet he is tough on the outside but gentle on the inside, we were, thankfully, soon to find. For softness—not force—shapes his days now. Two Tags has found that gentle hands have replaced harsh ones. Soft voices have taken the place of stern words.

And safety has replaced the need for fear.

These days, he raps with charm instead of his head. His favourite beat? The quiet rhythm of sanctuary life—and his fast friendship with Casanova, a dear fellow who knows a thing or two about second chances.

While Two Tags may still carry the scars of his past, he also carries something more enduring: proof that trust, once lost, can be found again. That even the most hardened hearts and heads can soften. That no being should be defined by the marks left on their body—but by the kindness offered to their soul.

And perhaps that’s the greatest tag of all—not plastic. Not forgottenness. But friendship, freely chosen. A second chance.
And a future shaped not by what was done to them. But by what we choose to do now.