On the surface, to many, the vast open grassy areas and tree-sheltered belts would have seemed a utopia for sheep. Yet, their presence amongst protected flora and native fauna only further highlighted the unsuitability of hard-hooved animals on Australia’s fragile soils. Soil compaction and heavy grazing can destroy indigenous plants that are food and shelter for native animals; young saplings, too, can be eaten, which plays havoc with biodiversity. And so we HAD to move them!
“You’ve got two weeks” will stand as four of the most promising
words to ever hit our ears. They came in response to our desperate
plea for more time to capture three wayward sheep who had strayed
into a restricted conservation area.
On the surface, to many, the vast open grassy areas and
tree-sheltered belts would have seemed a utopia for sheep. Yet,
their presence amongst protected flora and native fauna only further
highlighted the unsuitability of hard-hooved animals on Australia’s
fragile soils. Soil compaction and heavy grazing can destroy
indigenous plants that are food and shelter for native animals;
young saplings, too, can be eaten, which plays havoc with
biodiversity.
However, the sheep knew none of this and were there through no fault
of their own. And as sentient beings, they deserved a sensible and
humane outcome.
But would 14 days be enough?
These fearful and now wily sheep had long eluded many capture
attempts. Even our own had come up short, with the sheep retreating
into the heavily forested areas they knew like the back of their
hoof. And they took with them more than their form. As they slowly
slipped out of view and earshot, they took with them our hope. Even
our compasses failed us in the remoteness of it all, with our only
course being to retreat through the snake-infested and heavily
vegetated areas.
In any other circumstance, this would have been an area of great
beauty, with sweet-scented gums, inviting long and winding paths,
and glorious views. But this was no trek in the bush. This truly was
mission impossible.
“In any other circumstance, this would have been an area of great
beauty, with sweet-scented gums, inviting long and winding paths,
and glorious views. But this was no trek in the bush. This truly was
mission impossible”
And so, leaning on the inspirational words of Pearl S. Buck—“The
impossible is only so for now”—we took up the challenge. With the
clock already ticking, many plans and back-up ones were hatched. But
the one that proved successful, the one that bypassed capture pens
and feeding stations, overrode stakeouts, and far surpassed anything
previously attempted, was to be the one that enlisted the well-honed
skills of our friends at Vets for Compassion. Three cheers for Ollie
and his superior running skills!
And we did so with 12 days to spare.
Whilst we will never be able to sort the fact from the fiction of
their backstory, we are crafting their future. A future where the
authorship of their lives is theirs to write. And although we hoped
it would be one to include our friendship, only time would tell if
they’d choose to accept it.
And in that space of eager anticipation, we find a learning — one
that sees tension fade to acceptance, that no matter how much we
want something in life, many things sit outside of our control. In
this instance, it was not the universe, but three gentle sheep who
held the wheel. In the serenity that comes with surrender to what
will or will not be, we recognised that worry had no place. For, as
the intuitive beings that sheep are, they would readily pick up on
this, which would only hamper our plans.
Now, just over 210 days into our shared life together, the desire to
become firm friends no longer holds the priority it once did.
And then it happened.
Ricardo, the elected leader of the trio, trotted up to us, stopping
just two feet shy of where we stood. Looking us in the eye, he
gently stretched his sweet merino head forward, and palpable was his
thought: “Hello friend.” The more cautious Trisha and Dave watching
on. Although if we were betting folk, our money would be on daring
Dave to be next.
Yet in that moment, when Ricardo’s rectangular pupils met our
circular ones, a connection was made—one that transcended species
and left no doubt we were looking into the eyes of a being who
possesses a mental life parallel to ours.
If only more people had the chance to ride on our shoulders and
experience moments like ours with Ricardo, the blur of 78 billion
farmed animals might seem not so faceless.
Perhaps, too, there’s a reluctance to see farmed animals as unique
and wondrous individuals because of the implications of doing so.
For surely, seeing these beings as intelligent, empathetic, aware
and memory-filled would force a reluctant shift in the choices one
makes.
However, in Ricardo, Trisha and Dave’s story, we have the
opportunity to recognise the larger truth.
Looking back at Ricardo, Trisha and Dave, and seeing how their
bodies are softer now in our presence, it is clear they no longer
fear our kind. The unspoken barriers between us are no more. And in
this moment, we are gently reminded that there is a grander scheme
at play.
That it was not only we who have been waiting for Ricardo, Trisha
and Dave’s acceptance of us; the farmed animals of this world have
also been waiting, waiting far too long, for humanity’s recognition
of them. Waiting for us to see them beyond the label of “livestock”,
beyond their ability to “serve” humankind, and to see them for who
they truly are.
Someone and not something.
What better time than now to let them know it was worth the wait—and
ensure a more compassionate world not only sees them, but affords
them the respect and kindness they have long deserved.