RSS
Home
Animal sanctuaries as havens of compassion and interspecies communication
Print
Email
RSS
Subscribe
The furor over the possible closing of the Franklin Park and Stone Zoos has caused anguished feelings among people in the Boston area who are captivated by the beauty of exotic and endangered animals, and can't imagine not being able to commune with them, in an up close and personal way, at these two nature parks.
Yet, there are other ways of taking care of animals that don't rely on cages or government funding. One glorious example is the Catskill Animal Sanctuary (CAS) in Saugerties, New York. With the private support of corporations and individuals, founder Kathy Stevens has made it a safe haven for animals who are less in danger of extinction than of execution.
In her book about the Sanctuary, Where The Blind Horse Sings: Love and Healing at an Animal Sanctuary, about to be re-released in paperback, Kathy tells the story of the farmyard denizens who live and thrive in the warm embrace of the nonprofit farm she runs, with lots of help from volunteers and impassioned contributors.
Where The Blind Horse Sings chronicles not just the communication that is possible between humans and animals, but perhaps just as poignantly, the silent knowingness that passes among animals themselves: unspoken but breathtakingly real.
For example, Ms. Stevens tells the story of what happened on a cold November evening, when Rambo, the belligerent ram with a bad rap sheet, saved the lives of two turkeys:
"Rambo charged up to me, stopped dead, looked up at me with his great yellow eyes, and bleated. 'Something's wrong,' he said--no matter that what he said was 'baaahh,' because his communication was perfectly and instantly clear."
It turned out that the turkeys, Chuck and Cliff, had been accidentally left outside in the freezing weather, and may have perished if not for Rambo's insistence that something was amiss. Kathy pondered:
"What had just happened? So much was revealed in that single communication. That a sheep was aware that the turkeys were outside was impressive enough. That he figured out how to tell a human blew me away. But most astoundingly, Rambo had just shown concern for two animals of a different species and had known that I would help them."
The Catskill Animal Sanctuary is a place where abused, abandoned, and unloved animals can come to heal and bask in the sunlight of kindness and acceptance. Typical of them is Buddy, the blind Appaloosa who is the namesake of this wonderful book:
"Buddy had been housed in a small, irregularly shaped barbed-wire pen. Every time he moved, a barb would gouge the flesh of his chest, his flank, his neck. Eventually, for safety's sake, he'd stopped moving. For the two weeks prior to coming to us, he just stood in one spot, head hung low, even refusing to eat."
But Buddy blossomed in the care of CAS, and soon showed evidence of his brave heart and passion to do normal horse things. Kathy describes their shared exhilaration as Buddy progressed to the point that he could gallop through fields and traverse wooded trails, as she laughed and cried and rejoiced with him, all the way.
Many of the farm creatures roaming free at the Catskill Animal Sanctuary had originally been bred for food, and Kathy points out the shocking truth that for pigs and chickens and cows, the laws governing their slaughter are more stringent than the regulations addressing their daily care.
Inevitably, there are days when it is time for the people at the Sanctuary to bid a sad farewell to the animals who have become beloved friends. In stark contrast to the way that their lives would have ended in the frightening, bloody corridors of a slaughterhouse, the creatures at CAS are gently held and kissed good-bye as they take their final breaths.
It's hard not to be overcome with emotion at Kathy's description of the dignified death of the gentle Holstein steer, Samson:
"The huge syringe of barbiturate emptied into him, and then the second remarkable thing happened. Samson turned around, looked as deeply into my eyes as any living thing before or since, and licked my face. Then he licked it again, and again, and again. Over and over as he was dying, the cow who had finally known love was, I believe, saying thank you. He was, I believe, saying 'I love you, too,' and he was, I believe, saying good-bye."
As Where The Blind Horse Sings makes clear, animals share with us a language of the heart that needs no translation. They deserve our support, to ensure that they can live in a place of safety and comfort, where their spirits can soar.
Related Articles:
Add a Comment
