Hansel: Finding Our Way Home

Sixteen years ago, I was the first face of kindness he saw. And today, I was the last. It is what came in between that fills my heart with so many emotions. I close my eyes and touch my cheek as I feel something moist. But it is not a tear. It is the memory of the abrasive touch of his long, raspy tongue.

In fact, it was Hansel’s final gesture with his enormous tongue that reached out and gently took the Weetbix from my hand and tucked it safely inside his mouth. In that moment, he told me he was at peace with the world.

And so, it was my time to find it too.

Farewells are never easy. If anything has taught me that, it is this life. But it has also taught me not to let the weight of goodbye overshadow all the good days that came before. And in Hansel’s case, they were all good days… except for today, when his body quietly told us it was time.

This morning, he did not rise for breakfast as he always would. There was no eager shuffle, only a soft bellow in its place. Still, he allowed us to go through the motions, to try and help him to stand. And in those moments, as effort gave way to stillness, we were given the grace to understand.

It was time to help him find his way home.

And as we sat with his breathless body, his great heart now still, we closed our eyes and saw him again as he once was. A tiny, doe-eyed Jersey calf, blinking at a world that did not want him.

But we surely did.

Through dust and flies and heat, we carried him to the straw-lined horse float. And there, he met his beloved. A small black calf, a white splash under her chest, three strong legs and a will to live.

A fuel stop later, and with a glance into the back of the float, the two calves looked out at us and their names found them.
Hansel and Gretel.

They grew side by playful side, exploring their place in the world and finding their place in our hearts. Hansel with his cheeky spirit and Gretel with her quiet determination. Together, they found something many never do.

They found home.

Hansel grew into a magnificent steer, gentle in nature and known for that wonderfully long tongue. Knowing him as we did, it came as little wonder he became a favourite of all who had the good fortune to meet him. But more than that, he became a quiet ambassador. A reminder that these animals are not by-products, but individuals, each with a life as meaningful as our own.

For ten years, he rarely left Gretel’s side. And when her incredible life came to an end in 2020, a part of him left with her too.

He carried on, as we all must. Finding moments of joy again, in the company of others, dear Gracie among them. But sometimes, when he stood and gazed out across the field, you could not help but feel he was searching.

Perhaps, even then, he was finding his way back to her.

To reach the age of 16 years and 3 months is remarkable for any bovine. For a male calf born into the dairy industry, it is extraordinary.

But Hansel was always extraordinary.

And now, as we sit with the silence he has left behind, we take comfort in something we cannot see, but deeply feel.

That he is no longer searching.

That on four strong, pain-free legs, he has found his way home. And waiting for him there is Gretel.

And as we sat with him, he was not alone.

One by one, his friends came. Each with a knowing, as they gently touched his body. A gentle goodbye, in a language beyond words.

Dear Yak, who earlier we thought was butting him, we now realised was trying to help his friend rise.

And sweet Valentine, who has so recently known loss herself, quietly lowered her body beside him and shared in his final sunset.

Go well, our dear boy. Please tell her we love her very much too.

It was an honour and a privilege to know you.

And from Hansel, we are reminded once more that in love, in loss and in grief, it is only form that separates us from our animal friends, not feeling.

And we walk each other home.