Sway with the Wind: The Story of Banksia the Lamb

He was first spied by an eagle-eyed truck driver on their early morning haul north—still, alone, on the cold, merciless earth. Hours later, passing the same desolate spot, their gaze was drawn again. And there Banksia was. Still lying. Not moving. Barely breathing.

And in that quiet moment, when the only one watching was conscience, this kind soul refuses to look the other way. As the chilly wind blew, it was to be the sway of kindness that would change everything for that one little orphan lamb.

Cradled in a blanket of compassion, Banksia was rushed to sanctuary. Here, warmed from the outside in—and the inside out—colostrum swirled through his fragile body as a Bair Hugger draped his form in gentle heat.

A welcome whisper of heart and hope.

Now, it was over to him to take the lead.

And to our collective sighs of relief—he did.

Though a little limp soon followed. It was the sinister shadow of joint ill—a bacterial infection common to vulnerable little lambs—that had seized its moment and snuck in during those colostrum-less hours.

But like his namesake tree, Banksia, bent without breaking. He swayed with the winds of adversity, made stronger by antibiotics, care and the shelter of love.

And he thrived.

Alas, many others do not.

A drive through the countryside will reveal the heartbreak of winter lambing as it is strewn across paddocks kindness forgot—tiny white bodies the world did not stop for.

But one person did. One moment. One choice. One sliver of hope.

Today, Banksia often wears a pensive gaze. Still. Meditative. Hauntingly beautiful in a way only he can be. Perhaps he contemplates the fragility of life. Or the cost of silence. Or maybe, simply, the grace of being seen.

And in this wonderous bundle of wool and life, we’re reminded: life will shake us. It may even try and break us in two. Of that we cannot control. But just like the Banksia tree—tough, resilient and awe-inspiring—we survive, not by standing rigid, but by learning to sway with the wind.

To bend.

To be humble.

And to bow gently and rise again.

Looking at his journey thus far, we smile and nod and know we have named him well. For the Banksia flower blooms through fire. It thrives in the wild. It grows after hardship—a symbol of resilience, of rebirth, of the kind of hope born from devastation.

Banksia—born of hardship. Shaped by kindness. Held by hands that did not turn away. And in his story, we see the quiet power of doing something, even when no one is watching.

It’s called finding our humanity.

And like a seed, like a lamb, like a tree—it can change everything when we learn to sway with the wind.