The Legend of Casanova

For how long he had roamed those hills and homes, no one could say. But what we do know is this: it was more good luck than good instincts that saw him dodge the dangers of narrow country roads and speeding cars.

From eating hay with horses to sidling up to unsuspecting ewes, fences were mere invitations to Casanova. He came and went as he pleased, gently charming his way through backyards, paddocks and hearts alike. Well-liked across the district, he became a kind of folk hero. A legend. The lover, not the fighter.

Casanova by name, and clearly by nature.

“He’s only looking for his flock,” one kind soul remarked.
And then, one fine day in early April, he found them—at Edgar’s Mission.

He made fast friends with another newly arrived ram—Two Tags. And just like that, the great wanderer found what he’d been searching for all along: not just safety, not just hay, but companionship.

Raw and real.

It’s a beautiful thing, watching the two of them. Standing side by woolless side (for the shears wasted no time in relieving Casanova of his long-neglected fleece), they appear as though they’ve known each other all their lives. One stout and deliberate, the other tall and impulsive. While Casanova nibbles his Wheetbix with gentle refinement, he casts horrified glances as his friend inhales his own.

The contrast is comical.

The affection, undeniable.

Together, they tussle. They rest. They eat. They explore. They remind us that finding home is only half the story—it’s who we walk it with that makes it whole.

And yes, in keeping with our sanctuary’s responsible “no breeding” policy, both lads have now been castrated—a decision never taken lightly. But when the world is already overflowing with sheep seeking safe haven, love must be shaped by wisdom.

And kindness.

We shudder to imagine the alternative.

So Casanova—once a wanderer, now a legend with a permanent postcode—spends his days not chasing affection but sharing it.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what he was seeking all along.