Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four

Paul McCartney

Ever since becoming aware of our new arrival’s story, The Beatle’s song ‘When I’m Sixty Four’, ran in my head. I was not surprised today, as I manoeuvred the horse float into position to collect him, to see the house number ’64’ opposite.

In our district is the stock truck route from the Ballarat Saleyards to the largest abattoir in central Victoria. On certain days of the week, huge B doubles hurtle along the highways, swinging wide on corners, crammed full of sheep. Even as I stepped from my vehicle this afternoon, a truck drove past, with a sheep wildly struggling on the top deck, two thirds of his body protruding up from the sheep surrounding him or her.  I could see sheep on their sides, legs protruding as the truck sped past.

Hundreds of sheep being taken to a dreadful death…while we gathered to save the life of just one.

On the weekend I was advised of a social media post regarding a ram who had appeared in a local town. This town is directly on the stock truck route. Emaciated and clearly aged, the ram was marked for death on his back. This dear old soul, having been of commercial use until now, had been loaded on a truck and  sent for slaughter.

Although he did not know it his guardian angel now came to his aid. He came off the truck en route …and luckily near people who would care for him until a place of safety could be found. His tags were traced to his breeder, but his subsequent owner did not step forward to claim him. It is likely he had been on sold to the abattoir.

His tags show him to be 11 years old……a good age for a sheep…but he was not allowed to live out his days, instead he was subject to terror and fear.

Thankfully, Paul, as he is now called, instead has come to us. We have him in a shelter at present. He appears in reasonable health, although he needs to gain some weight and strength. All being well, he will have a small operation, so he can join the special needs flock.

A huge thank you to those who took him into care and kept him safe.

Will we still need you? Will we still feed you…..yes, Paul, yes…….

“The Emperor wishes me to send my innocent little lamb to the slaughter. ”
― S.J. Kincaid

According to Jan O’Connell in her blog, ‘The Australian Food History Timeline’, in 2005 in response to declining lamb sales, the Australian  Meat and Livestock Corporation recruited former Australian Rules footballer and media personality Sam Kekovich to be their “Lambassador“. Ms O’Connell states, ‘ The first 90-second diatribe condemned vegetarians as un-Australian. Annual rants have continued to promote lamb for Australia Day, resulting in a spike in lamb sales in the week leading up to the national holiday. In my youth, Australia Day used to be a pretty tame affair, mainly taken up with naturalisation ceremonies, flag-raising and speeches. There was the odd re-enactment of the arrival of the First Fleet at Port Jackson and, of course, there was a public holiday, but I don’t remember lamb being on the menu.’

Some weeks ago we received a call from a contact located in the west of Victoria. A number of sheep, part of a flock being loaded on a transport destined for the abattoir, were ‘left over’ (ie they could not be squeezed onto the already heavily laden truck). By way of being an inconvenience, their lives were saved. Fortunately there was someone nearby who could take them, and through them, we were contacted. Although we have taken in so many sheep this season, and our paddock feed is drying up…we were their lifeline  and so we agreed to give the five young wethers a safe destination.

Transport was not available until this week, and poignantly, as thousands of other young sheep faced fear, terror and slaughter, these five sheep arrived to safety, to live out their natural lives together.

Although fearful after their journey, already they are responding to us (with Weetabix as always our helper), and starting to settle.

Being Australian, being a ‘good’ Australian, does not need us to embrace the slaughter of innocent animals.  Our lambs are for loving…….

No one gets justice. People only get good luck or bad luck

Orson Welles

‘What about me…arrival number three?’
Sorry, we were getting to you.
Arrival number three for 2018 is the very handsome David. I feel we should have named him Phil…for ‘Lucky Phil’ because he is one very lucky sheep.
Bred, born and raised to be sold for slaughter, all was going to plan. David, with hundreds of his flock, had been rounded up, yarded, and sent to the sale yards. There they were bought by a meat processor for slaughter.
So again, he was rounded up and pushed up the ramps onto the B double truck. His journey would end by being off loaded into the yards at the abattoir, and in the next day or so, pushed through the door to the slaughter floor, where his short life would end, to provide meat.
David got lucky..very very lucky.
The door had not been secured properly. Not long into his final journey, the force of the other hapless sheep pushed David out of the door and onto the highway. There, stunned, he paused as the truck kept driving.
A passing motorist saw what had happened and, being in the line of work that knew what to do, stopped to help the sheep and secure him, contacting authorities to collect him.
He was impounded and traced through his NLIS tag, but no one wanted to claim him. We put in a successful tender …so David now is more than a commodity, he has a name , not just a number. He is loved.
…and the reward…in less than a week after arrival…after all that he has been through…he allowed me to scratch the top of his woolly head tonight, even though he was free to move away.
So welcome David, we are lucky to care for you

“Neither a man nor a crowd nor a nation can be trusted to act humanely or to think sanely under the influence of a great fear.”
― Bertrand Russell, Unpopular Essays

I remember clearly an on line discussion regarding sheep. A farmer posting stated that sheep did not show intelligence, that proof of this was how hard it could be to ‘herd’ a flock of sheep into a yard.

To me this shows quite the opposite. It shows that the sheep are VERY aware that they are in danger, that the yard holds the fear of the unknown, of loss of freedom, and the risk of being subject to the will of another.

When Wilma saw her flock friends being herded into yards she made a decision, one that would save her life. She refused to go with the flock. Against all normal instincts that there is safety in numbers, Wilma decided to go it alone and take a risk.

From behind the trees she watched her flock family driven off, never to return…. and alone she roamed the bush block.

There was some luck on Wilma’s side. Her ‘owner’ did not want to capture her and make another trip to the abattoir; the property is to be sold. Permission was given…if we could catch her, we could have her.

When I first saw Wilma she darted off for cover, vulnerable away from her flock, terrified.

Her next encounter with humans was to see a yard put up in the bush, with some tasty lucerne hay put in. Whether or not she was tempted we do not know.

Yesterday the master plan was put into action. Our float was taken to the block,  and there, with  the generous assistance of Bill and his two experienced working dogs, Wilma was robbed of her hard won freedom.

It is always hard to witness the fear and terror as an animal tries to escape, and willing them to understand that their very life and safety is at stake.

After 20 minutes, Wilma was ’rounded up’ and secured in a horse float, where she spent the night.

Today she made the journey to Honey’s Pledge and was released into a yard, with a small flock of sheep adjacent.

Wilma is heavy with fleece but given the cold weather and onset of winter, she will not be shorn until Spring. She will live in the yards for some time until we can gain her trust and reassure her that life here is safe.

A new flock and a new life.