Keeping close to the side of his newfound buddy is Finders. Together he and Keepers, knowing all too well the safety in numbers, join forces and scoot deftly past us.
Heads down, eyes averted, they slide down the fence line and into the openness of a new area. We are their enemy. Or so they think. Having arrived at the pound, separately through different circumstances, their fate was set soon to become a common one. And one all too common for farmed animals such as they.
But then fate intervened.
And instead of harsh voices and barking dogs to herd the abandoned sheep into the strangeness of a large box, it was soothing words, no fixed stare and gentle actions.
And that box did not have a steely floor, as they so often do – a reflection of the hearts of those who goad them inside. But it was a straw-lined trailer, soft and well protected from the weather and harsh reality of so many of their less-than-fortunate brethren, a wee hint of the many comforts they were promised that would surely follow.
They were confused.
Yet, they complied.
For such gentle animals are sheep. They cause us no menace, but alas our kind cannot lay claim to such a humility. For we humans have manipulated their lives for our ends and in doing so denied their sentience.
Denied the fact their lives have meaning to them. Lives that are imbued with loss and grief (more often than not of our doing) but so too of parenthood, family, joy, happiness, curiosity, hope and more.
And if that sounds familiar to you, it should. For what courses through their veins is the very stuff that courses through ours; what fuels their hearts are the very things that set ours on fire; and what makes their minds work is just so similar to our own.
And when you find this as your truth, it will surely be forever kept in your heart. It shall become your compass and guide your thoughts, actions and deeds to make the world a better place for all.
So welcome dear Finders and Keepers, welcome.
Little did we know that Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ short stay with us was to be anything but. An aged dairy cow at the end of her useful life, and having prolapsed after her last calving, a lifeline had been thrown to dear Lucy.
Separated from her family and friends by what terror, we shall never know – but clearly, the little grey kid goat surely did. She told such a tale as she raced across the pound yard towards the only familiar figure she could find.
Our first introduction to the wee little lamb with the sweetest of faces, the one who we would name Sarsaparilla, came by way of an appeal for help, along with a video of her stoically trying to keep up with her dear mumma.
Only moments into our care, two little orphan lambs named Micky and Mini, without words, began to tell us about themselves.
Struck by a vehicle which almost claimed his life, the young and injured pig was struck again.