We Named Her Mellow

Updated January 22, 2026

“A name, a name, she must have a name!” we scolded ourselves, plucking cactus prickles from our hands, legs and everywhere in between. And in that moment, her name came to us: Mellow.

It suited her perfectly, for though her body bore pain, her face held a quiet and undeniable gentleness, the kind that even the harshest landscape could not tamper with.

Our story begins on the 22nd of December 2025, when council rangers first alerted us to Mellow and her dire fate. Along with several other sheep, they had somehow become “no one’s sheep,” wandering where sheep were never meant to roam, through country that felt part wilderness and part warning. Those steep hills, tangled scrub and endless cactus spines made it almost impossible for humans to navigate, but less so for wily sheep.

For a time, all was well. Until it wasn’t.

Their wool grew and grew and grew again. Though they had fallen outside of human care, they had not escaped what humans had bred into them for profit. Something that had become their burden and almost their undoing. Without at least annual shearing, their fleece turns heavy as their bodies become vulnerable to overheating and flystrike.

And for Mellow, the latter had claimed her entire right flank. It had become a feast for flies, leaving her flesh raw and writhing.

Her rescue was now urgent, but rounding up the flock was nearly impossible in the unforgiving terrain. And so the council then enlisted the help of Manfred Zabinskas of Five Freedom Animal Rescue—steady, skilled and kind. With sheep like Mellow, darting is rarely possible, as their wool is too dense and felted to pierce.

But the fly-struck wound had left a small patch of bare skin.

A heartbreaking “target” that was to make all the difference.

Today, Mellow is almost unrecognisable, save for her beautiful face. At just over one year old, her future is now bright

Manfred’s aim was true, as it always is, and in that moment, Mellow took her first step towards sanctuary. The smell when we treated her made our eyes water and our hearts ache. The thick scent of decay and suffering escaped no one’s notice.

Yet buried within that horror was hope, for each clipped strand of filthy fleece brought her closer to relief.

And to life.

Today, Mellow is almost unrecognisable, save for her beautiful face. At just over one year old, her future is now bright. Though her trust will be slow to grow as she has known only fear and a life on the run.

But here at sanctuary, among gentle and kindly folk, Mellow is learning that hands can heal and will cause her no harm. And in time, we trust her heart will do what her name already promises—mellow.