Grass and a Name

Our mission: to see how the unnamed ewe who came in last evening was faring. Our greatest fear was that she may not be. But there she was. Propped up in a sling and tentatively surveying her new world. With her gaze landing on us, she scrambled a little. Only her left front leg was able to fulfil its charter. Her body was thin and weak, yet her udder full.

It was clear she had not long given birth before rescue. The fate of her baby, although unknown, would not have been good. More than likely taken by a fox, as their remains were not littered amongst the other lifeless bodies in the field from where they had been birthed.

And as another emaciated soul had entered our care, her hooves long overgrown, and eyes filled with fear, we knew our challenges would be many. And although to this poor sheep it would seem the world had given up on her, she had not.

And neither would we.

With her permission, we gently stroked her face; her eyes softened and invited more. Yet again we were struck by the restorative powers of touch when they come imbued with kindness. We offered her a drink, of which she sipped slowly, telling us the IV fluids administered last evening had done their job of rehydrating our new friend.

But could we be hers?

The first responder to this tragic case would relay that their first gentle attempts to move the non-ambulatory sheep were welcomed with a mighty butt to their head. Such a poignant reminder, that comes with a punch in our ethical thought, that even in such critical and weakened states, and when we humans can overpower these animals in so many ways, be they cruel or otherwise, they hold firm that their lives are worth fighting for.

With this guiding our minds and hearts, we trust that given time, love, care and grass – lots of sweet-tasting grass – we can build a bridge she shall wish to cross.

In her own time.

And so, with all of her vital signs checked off this morning, we had but two tasks: find some grass and find a name. With the first coming readily easy at this time of year, the second not so.

But then it did.

A text message being the prompt.

In the days previous, we had been assisting, in a very minor way, a kind heart whose beloved young sheep was not doing well; and alas they passed. Their message was one of gratitude. And the sheep: her name was Bella.

“Bella”, we mused, means beautiful, and that the dear sheep for whom we were now serving most certainly was. A more perfect name we could not find, as beautiful is too what becomes of we humans when we help animals in need.

Our heartfelt thanks to the kind-hearted humans who made Bella’s rescue possible: you are amongst humanity’s finest. Looking at you: wildlife advocate and rescuer, Krysti Severi, of Rescue Rehabilitate Release (if you haven’t heard of their selfless work for native animals, please check out their page), and long-time Edgar’s Mission pal, Glen.