Anatomy of a Rescue—Becoming Manor Lakes

A lone sheep had been spied on the fringes of a new housing development. The bulldozers had moved on, but she had not. Her world was shrinking as she was caught between the houses that were to come and the road that could so easily end her story.

Day 2 brought photos and team discussions as we weighed the options. All the while, the grim reminder that we were her last one. She was, to everyone else, no one’s responsibility.

But to us, she was someone worthy of care.

On day three came the reconnaissance. Through small country towns, then fields set to be claimed by yet more housing estates we drove, asking ourselves the same question over and over: “Would she still be there?”

And there she was, found easily by the photographs. Standing tethered to the spot. But not by a rope, but by circumstance. Food was scarce and water was scarcer. Her only company was the land-locked kangaroos.

The plan was simple. Enlist the help of Kansas, our seasoned “Judas” sheep, paid well with wheetbix wages, who would lead the way. Luring the sheep into a narrow laneway where bunting and rescuers would lie in wait. Perfect, we thought. Foolproof, we assured ourselves.

Only it wasn’t.

Our quarry bolted northeast, heading fast towards danger. But hearts and feet raced faster, as rescuers sprinted across the littered ground. Should she reach the road, her story would be over before it even began. One rescuer darted ahead and turned her right into the path of another equally fleet-of-foot rescuer. And with a precision lunge that any athlete would envy, their hands grasped her Rastafarian-like fleece.

And finally, she was caught.

With double collars on, lest that first catch be a fluke, the long, arduous walk with our somewhat recalcitrant friend began. Kansas out in front, leading the charge.

Back at sanctuary, the truth was confirmed: she weighed a hefty 96.5 kilos. And thankfully, a Dorper and not a Merino, her slower-growing fleece may well have saved her.

And then, one last task remained: to give her a name—Manor Lakes. It rolls off the tongue like a soap opera star, though her story is not of fiction, but one of flesh, fleece and fragile good fortune.

Though we may never know from where she came, we know exactly where her life is heading. To a land of kindness, a place where all good things grow.

Because at the heart of every rescue is one simple truth. That when someone chooses to see the unseen, a life is changed forever.

Welcome, Manor Lakes. Welcome, beautiful, precious one. Today, your new life begins.