APRIL 2020

The year 2020 will always leave a mark on everybody's life and memories for obvious reasons. Strange times indeed as the country, more so the world, basically shuts down due to a virus, regardless of personal beliefs or views. Here at Furever Farm though it was mainly business as usual. Despite taking a hit in the same place as a lot of people, the bank account, we carried on with our daily job of rescuing and caring for the voiceless. You invest your life, willingly, in rescue and the sanctuary becomes your life 24/7. Point being that we rarely go out so pub, club, café, restaurant and shopping centre closures don't affect us.

As we've often spoken before, the farm is always generally full. Capacity residency sees close to 100 animals call Furever Farm home. We've often spoken of good times and bad, positive aspects of sanctuary life and negatives. As they say, for any positive there has to be an equal negative and vice versa. This is either stunningly or savagely true depending on the flow of events and outcomes. Death is a part of what we do. It is inescapable. It is sometimes controllable and in other times, uncontrollable, unforeseen. Death does not always come in a singular occurrence. In fact, when you think about it, the probability of dual deaths is quite high simply from a percentage ratio. One death is so sad, and it is one too many. Multiple deaths are simply crushing and soul-destroying. The emotional toll it takes on us and volunteers is unrelatable. It is like asking a depressant to describe their illness, you simply can't. We have had multiple deaths on the farm before. Each time it is so so sad. The emotional attachment we form with these animals is akin to a parent with their young. Yes, it is that strong for us. As far as multiple deaths are concerned, April 2020 will go down in Furever Farm history as being one to forget and one that will forever be responsible for tearing ours, and so many others hearts apart.

Not one, not two, not even three. April on the farm would see five shocking and devastating deaths of which we still recover as we write this blog. Five of our "babies" taken by different means. We say babies in a figurative fashion. We call all our animals our babies. But sadly, this month of April would steal two adults and three innocent and still growing babies from us. Death would menace and take the lives of those most undeserving in a cruel and savage way. So much confusion emanates from situations like this. Why? How dare you? Why them? The questions are endless but the answers unbecoming. Four of the deaths would leave us shattered beyond words before the last and final death of April 2020 would crush us like no other. It would leave us, our volunteers and followers in tears. Gut-wrenching tears of sadness and anger coupled with the most intense feelings of hopelessness, guilt, responsibility and self-loathing - be that rationally or irrationally. We intend to pay respects to each of our fallen babies in this blog. People may ask why we would blog about passed animals? There are many a reason but a couple are that we simply love them and want to remember them. We want everybody to get a more in-depth knowledge of what these beautiful animals were like. Importantly, particularly for Darren, it helps him vent and helps aid his healing. Some of us can open up to others. We can speak openly and have a better coping mechanism for understanding the event and we can place rationale quicker than others. Others need an alternative outlet. Writing is the "vocality" for those that are internal sufferers. To express emotions, to tell a story, to explain events via writing is the avenue of sanity to some people. Blogs are a perfect means for that. There are no rules in blogs, they are there for any topic, any story, any conversation. Today we will be talking about our beloved Poppy, Pom Pom, Benson, Archer and Lilah. There will be emotive content. It will be written honestly, openly, with feeling and, rightly or wrongly, expressions of feelings of responsibility. Remember, a mind aching and in torment will sometimes express feelings of blame that others may easily disagree with. An aching and tormented mind is still going through healing and forgiveness. It takes time and animals are what steal our emotions. The road to realisation, acceptance and simply being okay with the term "accident" is long and windy.

BENSON: April 12 RIP

The tiniest of souls that was so frail, so weak and so cold the day he was surrendered to the farm. Found alone, shaking and crying on the side of a country road with no Mumma, no flock in sight. His luck was with him that day. Two walkers would stumble across him and simply could not allow him to remain afraid and abandoned. As he came to the farm we knew that he was going to need constant love and attention. Just skinny, so skinny we automatically knew he needed inside bonding, lamb coats, warm feed and genuine love. Benson would get all of this and more. Our devotion to these animals is not selective. It is unquestioned and unbias. 

Immediately he touched our hearts. Who are we kidding? They all touch our hearts and he would straight away steal the hearts of the Furever Farm Community. Benson was so quiet. His tiny little voice was so touching. Weak from his start to life his voice reflected his lethargy and it was an absolute treasure to hear him want to talk to us. He managed to walk. His frame so slight it was a struggle at first but with willpower and, again, his want to be close to his new "mum and dad" he would constantly make the trip across the floor to be with you. 

Oh, Benson's face. There is nothing as adorable, sweet and innocent as that of a baby lamb. They melt your heart and fill you with prickly emotion. This face would amaze us and fill us with joy as we watched it sleep and dream. Yes, they dream often. What are they dreaming of? Their newfound home? Their next belly full of milk? Or, their long lost mum or woolly family? Benson would sleep a lot. He was so tired and so exhausted by his start to life. Only a couple of days old at best he had obviously missed vital nutrients from mum and had been thirsty for some time before saviour. Rest was a good thing though. As he slept he built energy. As he built energy he built confidence. As he built confidence he built stamina. Before long, on this first day of inhabitance, Benson would lookup. He became somewhat stronger. Not as strong as we wished, he had a long way to go, but none the less he improved.

Benson's determination would continue for the next 24 hours with all signs pointing in the right direction. But, with lambs, there is always that chance for a turnaround and when that happens it can be swift, fast and brutal. Benson would suddenly start moving in the opposite direction rapidly. His forward movement of strength, ability, alertness would all deteriorate within the space of a mere couple of hours. You try everything in situations like this. You apply the right medication, meds that we have on hand as this sort of thing is not uncommon, you monitor their vitals and try to prevent them from falling into a "deep sleep". Sometimes though the past comes back to haunt them and that lack of colostrum, that lack of initial feed and mother's milk plays such a big part in their outcome. Their tiny, frail, so dependant little bodies fight like the strongest of fighters. They truly do, they never give up. You stay with them 24 hours of the day. You will them to live, to fight just that little bit more but then you realise that is the selfish option? We want them to live. We want them to have the joy we see other animals have. They deserve the perfect life. They found their way here for a reason, right? Perhaps, shockingly, that reason they ended up here is so they have somewhere warm and loving to pass over. Not alone, frightened and freezing cold on the side of the road but between two people on a comfortable bed being held, stroked and told they are loved. This was baby Benson's final hours. We had noticed the dreaded chest rattles come on. Possible pneumonia, another illness not uncommon in babies like this. If that wasn't bad enough Benson started to scream as he passed motion. Observation of that motion would confirm the number one killer in lambs - scour. Pneumonia and scour would see this gorgeous boy's body go limp as he lay between us. He was alive, he was breathing but that was now becoming increased and stressed as his little body began fighting to stay alive. His heart would race and beat oh so strongly in his chest. Sadly this is the type of rhythm that occurs when they are about to cardiac arrest when their little heart is about to stop. We would both hold Benson, one cradling his body while the other cupped his tiny head. His cries were minimal but his breaths so frantic as the final seconds neared. We whispered into his ears it was alright, that he was safe and that he was loved, that he would be at Furever Farm always. With that Benson would throw his head back in one last gasp and his breathing would stop. His chest, once ravaged by beats so heavy and panic-stricken now rested calm but with it, Benson's life was gone. You cry as you see him still and there is nothing more you can do.

Benson, born and passed within three days of life. So incredibly unjust and unfair. There are so many like this young baby. Born to an industry that would gladly see lambs perish by the side of roads alone and freezing. This little soul had no opportunity, no chance to live. This is what crushes us, their robbed existence. We try so much to get all the Benson's of this world over the line but sadly sometimes we can't. Some suggest that this is their purpose, lambs such as Benson. Their life is to be short and by that very nature, they do not understand any different, that they are meant to live for so much longer. We simply think that if one is born you are meant to live. You are meant to experience all life has to offer and as you mature, as you understand then you have a decent chance. This dear soul, so beautiful and deserving died despite all efforts. But he fought, oh how he fought. Why would they fight if they wanted to die?

POM POM: April 18 RIP

Oh, the joyous of chooks! Never before had we taken in a Silkie Bantam but we had heard the stories of their gorgeous and loving nature. Then along comes this boy and simply confirms all of what we had heard. 

Pom Pom's story is slightly different from most of the animals to cross Furever Farm. His was one of love, care and inclusion. He had come from a good life. With his family since a chick, he had been doted on and adored. Originally part of a coop he was the last remaining member and needed a new home filled with fellow feathered friends. Oh yes, the last man standing. This brings us to his amazing age. Pom Pom was no less than between 11 and 12 years old! This is so good for a chook, particularly a rooster, and spoke volumes about his past. But with old age comes ailments. Pom Pom was three-quarters blind. Totally blind in one eye with only partial sight in the other. Of course, this would be his initial stumbling block in entering a new coop at such an age. Never the less we were happy to take Pom Pom in and begin helping him transition homes. 

There is no such thing as a 100% smooth transition when talking about animals. You can get near perfect and that's where people kid themselves a bit. Forgetting the hurdles and imagining that everything was fine. However, we are happy to say that as far as this transition was concerned it was "near perfect"!! 

Pom Pom, as with all our new feathered arrivals, began his life in the slow introduction cage getting to know his new family from behind the safety of the steel mesh. Trust us, it has to be this way. Chooks can be so unpredictable and so violent if they wish. A few things were going to work against Pom Pom upon his release. His age and eyesight and, more importantly, his loving, soft, docile nature. Truly, this boy would not harm a fly let alone stand up to any younger poultry that may decide to challenge him. 

As expected there was some push and shove when Pom Pom entered the general population. We were there to see him through and help where necessary but with chooks, you must allow them to do things their way sometimes, to a certain extent. A hierarchy, or pecking order, must be enforced upon new chooks. This was done to Pom Pom but was so much more upsetting as eyesight and age came into play. Pom Pom would retreat to his introduction cage regularly when others got heavy and it was in this cage that he found solitude. It would basically become Pom Pom's home as he preferred to spend a lot of his time in his (opened) cage. He would venture out and explore the rest of the coop slowly, using his good eyesight to get around.  Much like Betty the blind goat he would follow the outer edges of the coop as he found new spots to rest and take in his new family. Many a time we would come in and see him in a new spot. Some would be of his choosing while others would see him enter a house and not be able to find his way out. This would not faze Pom Pom, he would just take a seat knowing that, eventually, we would come in to grab him and place him back into his cage. 

One of the best things to happen to Pom Pom came in the shape of a new arrival. A tiny little Lavender Leghorn would come and share Pom Pom's house with him. Very quickly these two would become close, inseparable as a friendship built. The friendship was that solid that Pigeon, the other bird, would not begin to integrate amongst the other chooks until after the passing of Pom Pom. Many a day was spent in the cage of these two nursing Pom Pom. He wasn't ill, he just loved a cuddle and was content to be held or cradled for as long as we could. Such a gorgeous soul he would just sit in your lap like he belonged, like that of a sleeping puppy and allow you to stroke his feathers and gently touch his head. So long as slow contact was initially made, to allow for his blindness, he would have no fear in having human contact. His life had been amazing and his love was supreme. Never a more gentle chook have we encountered...and we have cradled a few gentle chooks. 

It is a travesty, despite understandable, that Pom Pom would only be with us for a few months. We had fallen for this boy in the shortest of time such was his endearing nature and inexplicable character. His beauty was astounding and his care outstanding. If all Silkie Bantams are this way then we have discovered the Rolls Royce of chooks. 

Pom Pom's passing would be sudden and upsetting. There was no forewarning, no clues or symptoms. Pom Pom was travelling so well on this day, his demeanour as good and as welcoming as usual. It would be a morning feed and clean within the coop that would shock us and devastate us. There is nothing bizarre or out of sorts about this, it was simply fast and swift. As Hayley was cleaning out the pen in readiness to feed the residents Pom Pom would get up to walk past her and fall down at her feet. It was that quick. Out of the blue Pom Pom had likely suffered a heart attack and there was no chance. 

Sometimes it is worse not having any idea. Sometimes if an animal is ill you can begin to prepare yourself in advance. We would never say it makes the death of an animal any easier. Death is final, it is hard to deal with. But, you have that knowledge ahead of time that your animal is going to pass. This brings us back to Pom Pom's age. If we are realistic, that was his advanced warning. His age was eclectic, it was a grand achievement for any animal. If truth be told we knew, deep in the recesses of our minds that Pom Pom would not be here for years. But the subconscious is probably not the best place to tuck such information in preference to hope. We hoped Pom Pom had more time left in him. His journey here was just beginning and we had plans for his farm life. His tenderness had touched us and his one on one enthusiasm captivated. 

Pom Pom passed at the feet of the people he held dear for this stage of his life. We allow ourselves to mourn with the satisfaction that his was a good life. Pom Pom had lived well and lived long. We were honoured to have been given the opportunity to meet and know this grand old rooster. Like all animals, he leaves a mark and takes another tiny piece of our hearts. They all do, we are but human. 

Pom Pom, his soul as beautiful in death as in life rests in the entranceway to HIS coop. Yes, his favourite cage will adorn the title of his name. His loving spirit will forever be remembered amongst the family he had time to get to love. 

POPPY: April 22 RIP

Oh my. In rescue you get to see and experience so much. Every now and then a case comes along that tears at your heart and soul such is the barbarity and cruelty associated with it. A beautiful goat by the name of Poppy presented such a case.

Four weeks. Is four weeks enough time to invest yourself enough to fall in love and be heartbroken at the same time? You bet it is. Is four weeks enough time to shake your head in disbelief and become angry at the thought of animal abusers? You bet it is. The call that found us picking up an abandoned goat would see a month of all of those emotions culminating in a savage blow to the heart when a life was robbed.

The call alerted us to an abandoned goat. Roaming paddocks and entering neighbouring properties a female goat was wandering, probably as much lost and confused as searching for proper feed. We would go to collect this goat to be told that, most probably, a neighbouring house that had recently been vacated had simply up and left this girl behind. How can people be so callous and cruel? In today’s day and age there are so many avenues for people that no longer want animals. As this goats journey progressed we would discover why they had simply abandoned her. Most probable was an embarrassment or fear of prosecution that had seen the dumping. 

As is the case with most of the animals that come into our care Poppy would be seen by our vet. Obvious issues were her hoofs. So overgrown they were preventing her from walking correctly such was the discomfort and pain. Another obvious issue, and worrying sign, was Poppy's abdominal shape. A massive bulge would sit each side of her body and our initial suspicion was growths or cancer. Being assessed by our vet a few things came to light that pointed to cruelty and neglect, plain and simple. Poppy's hoofs were that overgrown and spayed that trimming wasn't an option. They needed to be angle ground back as far as possible to give them any chance of growth. Never would her feet be normal such was the overgrowth. Rather we attempted to cut them back and planned to keep up regular trims to keep them short for the rest of Poppy's life. Next, we examined Poppy's abdominal abnormality. Upon assessment, it was found that this gorgeous girl, underneath a swath of thick hair, was severely emaciated. To feel her body - abdomen, spine, hips - was shattering and infuriating. She was literally skin on bone. The lumps either side of her body turned out not to be cancer but her rumen! Such was her poor condition Poppy had no muscle keeping her stomach intact. Her stomach had literally fallen out each side of her body! If it were not for paper-thin muscle and skin there would have been nothing stopping her rumen from falling to the floor. 

Situations like this have you crying and screaming at the same time. You feel so bad for how this animal must be feeling, how they must have been treated and at the same time you are ropeable and wanting to get your hands on the abuser. In the end, you focus on what is important, the health and wellbeing of the animal and you begin the process of fixing another battered soul. 

Poppy was not fully trusting of humans, who could blame her? Very wary and not at all keen for anyone to handle her we did what was needed as quickly as we could. Her hoofs were fixed and she was put on a diet of reconditioning as discussed between us and our vet. Poppy began her new life in a smaller side yard off of the main goats paddock. She would not be able to join the other goats, not yet. She needed to be introduced slowly and the risk of her being head-butted in her abdomen was too high. This gave us the chance to approach and speak to Poppy daily as we cleaned her area, kept her water topped up and began her diet. They say that animals are unconditional, that they have no expectations nor do they hold grudges despite having every right to. Poppy would display all those attributes immediately. As each day passed she would allow us to get closer and closer. She would walk closer to us. The mere fact she was doing this, beginning to trust so well, is testament to her beauty. 

After a period we allowed Poppy to venture out with the other goats. Surprisingly it went so well. It may be that Poppy was an older girl, as assessed, and the existing goats had respect for her but the butting was attempted minimally. Even then Poppy held her own and the fact that she wasn't backing down saw the likes of Tommy and Co become disinterested. As all this was going on we were getting closer to Poppy as well. As she returned to her locked yard each day we would venture in and before too long we’re sitting in her shelter with her stroking her head and back. It was marvellous, absolutely amazing. Fruit was being fed by hand to Poppy as the trust continued to build and within a couple of weeks you would have thought we had known each other for years! Perhaps it was the fact she was being treated decently, fed and loved? We would like to think it was a combination of all. 

Poppy was so adorable. Her cute face, little legs and doting nature made for a simply exquisite goat. She was craving love and we gave it to her. She was craving acceptance and we accepted her whilst also giving her a new goat family! As she was slightly older she wasn't one for grandstanding or racing around playing on rocks, instead she was happy simply being around others. 

It was all going to plan and all going so well, like clockwork. Then we noticed a downward turn. Nothing major but there none the less. Poppy appeared slightly lethargic. She was older and she had come from such harrowing conditions so, really, this is not to be unexpected. We knew when we began her healing journey that it was not going to be all forward movement. So we monitor Pop. We keep up her nutrients and add a hydrate to her water. The following day we go out to check on Poppy and she is inside her shelter. Down, again lethargic and, this time, off of her food. She sits and we sit with her talking, giving her gentle pats as we tell her she will be okay and we will her to eat. We would keep an eye on Poppy all day this day and communicate with our vet. Poppy would be given medication by us in an attempt to give her some energy and help with what may be an upset stomach or some form of pain. You lose count of how many times you visit an animal in a day, in amongst caring for all other animals. It becomes your obsession and the responsibility towards this animal your priority. All the while you panic inside, you become nervous and worried and you almost tell your brain to refuse to accept that things could be about to go seriously wrong. Unfortunately, there are only 24 hours in a day and, at some stage, you must rest, sleep in preparedness for the next day. In reality, there is no more you can do for the animal besides loving it and hope, give that baby hope.

Of course when you have 80+ animals and one is sick your first port of call in the morning is to check on the sick animal. This we did and our hearts were crushed on this morning. Inside the very shelter, you had sat and told this animal you loved them, stroked them for comfort, lay a motionless body. There was no maybe, as soon as we looked inside we saw Poppy on her side without movement. Her body lay still and in the very position that ruminant animals do not lay for long. There was no breathing emanating in the form of inflating lungs. There was only a very still Poppy clearly passed. Your heart lodges in your throat as you fight to hold back the tears that are so evidently welling in your eyes. All you can say is "oh no, Poppy" over and over again. You go in and kneel beside an animal you knew as a perfect loving girl and you place your hand on her body. You pat her as if alive and, finally, you can hold those tears no more. You cry so much your tears fall to meet this gorgeous baby you wanted to save so much. You lay with them and you make sure you close their eyes if need be so they can rest as they should. Anger will come at a later stage as you evaluate in your mind the fact that this soul was robbed by those who wronged her. Now, you begin the mourning and grieving stage you are coming to know so well. 

Poppy was with us for a month. Far too short, as was her life. Hers was taken by cruelty. Her body so fouled and deteriorated by someone who knew her as nothing. There is simply no way Poppy, and any other animal deserves or needs to go this way. Poppy fought. When she knew she had found love she knew that she had a fighting chance. She tried, oh how she tried. Her condition was just too far gone and her hill too steep to climb. A loving and gentle girl deserves to pass over in such a distinguished way. Poppy deserved class and respect all the way to her passing. What she got was undeserved, callous. Out there, somewhere, is someone who we hope ends up carrying this with them, in some way, the rest of their days. We hope that Poppy loved her final moments. That she found comfort and contentment. Perhaps Poppy came to us to die. She had found her oasis, her garden. In the surrounding love, she found a place to let the pain and suffering stop and close her eyes, willingly, for the final time. 

This has affected us on so many levels. We will never forget Poppy, she is a special case despite her short time with us. She showed us what life and love is and her presence will always touch our soul.

ARCHER: April 26 RIP

Just 14 days after losing a very young lamb another would grace our sanctuary. Little did we know that, literally, this would be history repeating itself.

From the cold lonely backstreets of country, Rockleigh would come another little boy lost and afraid without any sign of a mother. Picked up by a courier van carrying out deliveries he would be collected as, lucky enough, this driver simply couldn't keep going and leave him behind. This little boy's luck was certainly in. What are the chances that on this bare stretch of dirt road a courier van, of all things, would be passing at the very moment that this lamb was in vision? Like Benson before him, this one would come in cold, skinny and looking for warmth and food. He would become Archer, named so as it is a word associated with soldier. This boy was going to need to be a fighter to pick up his frail life.

Such a beautiful and stunning lamb he, here we go again, stole our hearts from the beginning. But he too was from an obvious nutrient-deficient background as each task he undertook was done with extraordinary effort. His tiny little call was so meek whilst his steps were shaky and unbalanced. It was clear that he needed strength and milk replacer was given. Due to Archer's frailness, and a belly that saw him with loose stool, he needed feeds of alternating liquids - milk and Vytrate, a hydrating liquid that is used for hydration and helps ease stomach upsets. All the while this gorgeous soul would want to be with you whenever he was awake. His legs, so incredibly long and almost in disproportion to his body, would struggle to keep up with you but he would walk, then trot, then walk and trot again. Once he had you, and you were still, he would give in to his struggling legs and lay down content to rest by your side. Such an amazing boy. With stomach upset, clearly underweight and frail, he never stopped. 

As time went on his little belly would not clear up of diarrhea so a further precaution would be required. Archer would need antibiotic with the hope that some effect would take place. Unfortunately, this would not work and he would slowly begin to go backwards. His loving calls, his eager walk and run would disappear and in replacement, Archer would become lethargic. Besides everything being done and being done correctly, Archer would give up all attempts to walk and feed. Without a hint of question he would be rushed to an after-hours vet where he would be assessed and, amazingly, come back to life in the vet clinic. Suddenly his big round eyes were looking up at us again, his ability to walk returned and his energy seemed to have spiked once more. Sent home with fresh antibiotic Archer appeared to have turned his corner. But with little babies like this things can turn in a second and, literally, that is what happened. 

Before Archer even returned home his body again went silent. He lapsed into a sleep that could not be aroused and his body, only moments before showing strength, would begin to go seriously limp. With a call to the vet, he was once more returned. A check was done on Archer's bloods and it showed that his glucose levels were so dangerously low that it was a miracle she was even alive. 

We would give Archer a kiss on his beautiful little head as we left him at the clinic. He would need to be placed on a drip and his glucose levels raised. It is a scary and nervous time when you kiss an animal goodbye to leave them at the vet. Animals generally only do overnight stretches at a clinic when there is something seriously wrong. This was no different a case. Archer was in a fight for his life such was his condition. Our kiss that night literally felt like a last kiss goodnight despite trying to stay positive and upbeat for little Archer. We had been here before. Only 14 days before in fact. We knew the dialogue and the risk and we knew, realistically, the odds were not in Archer's favour. But it is an animal you have rescued. You are responsible for this life and you refuse to let them go without a fight. You fight with them. You wish, will, plead and hope for them to pull something out of the bag. But it was now out of our hands. We had to place our faith in the hands of a vet and Archer's fighting spirit. 

The following morning we made the phone call that is the most nerve-wracking one to make. Again, positiveness and hope. But on this morning our hope was dashed and beaten. Little Archer's fight was too big. His condition, his glucose, his frail and thwarted beginning had affected his body too much for him to overcome. We were, once again in this month of April, devastated. Once again we had lost another life despite trying so hard. Our emotions would spiral and deflate as we felt we had had enough. We thought constantly about the animals and we cried for their breeding into such a deplorable situation. These babies never really stood a chance. How could they when the entire system is set to fail and dish out one victim after the other? We collected Archer's tiny body from the vet and took him back to Furever Farm to be buried next to Benson. Two lambs found in relatively the same areas and with nothing but bad luck behind them. It is simply not fair and these babies deserve life and love. For the absolute shortest of time, we were able to supply the love but we couldn't give them the life they are entitled. 

Another baby, so cherished and adored, was laid to rest at the farm on this day. His memory one of importance and eternal existence. Never, and we mean never, will their names be forgotten, their image be diminished or their soul be lost. They are, at least, afforded the respect they deserve afterlife. Robbed of such during living hours they will forever be part of a caring home, amongst many other animals similar. Archer melted our hearts and left an imprint on our souls. He was simply divine and beautiful. A boy so special he lingers eternally. 

After each passing you think, beg to yourself that there are no more. After four deaths in the same month we simply took it for granted that there could not possibly be any more to follow. As our hearts battled and our heads began to repair we would continue with our daily chores and commitment to rescuing and helping the voiceless. Little did we know that despite these previous deaths being both devastating and bad we would be driven to the most crushing and shocking depths we have ever been on the farm. 

Much has been spoken online, via Facebook and such, of what we are about to describe. We are sure that many have wondered just what occurred at Furever Farm that left us, and volunteers, so deeply shocked, depressed and crushed. It would leave Darren in unshakable mental torment that, to this day, he is still battling with and talking to doctors about. Darren's feeling of guilt, self-loathing, sense of responsibility are irrational to some but unshakable to him. Accidents occur in everyday life. They happen each and every day in all walks of life. From the personal home to the gym, the street to the vehicle, the workplace to the hotel. Farms, be them rescue or insidious industry, are workplaces. A lot is going on at any one time. Busy is an understatement and more often than not at a rescue farm or sanctuary, the mind is racing trying to complete various tasks at the same time. We have spoken of the accident when referring to the last death in April. Yes, it was an accident but to those involved, those on the ground as it occurred, it is far far more than that. To walk away not feeling responsible is an expectation unrealistic. And despite the feelings of guilt, there is also the psychological impact of continued visions and memories, a mind unable to make sense of how one feels, the sheer and utter shock and sadness with the self demand that you deserve to be struggling this way. We are now going to write exactly what happened that day, April 30. This is the open, upfront and honest story of an accident and a beautiful girl lost. We always promise honestly to our followers and supporters. After this time used to conjure some semblance of rationale we feel it is time to speak openly. Please, be aware that people are still suffering due to this and trying to make inroads on a path to self-acceptance and forgiveness. This next story takes a lot of strength to write.

LILAH: April 30 RIP

On a very hot day during the warmer months, a certain little girl would enter, not only our lives but, the life of another baby in need of a friend. Never could we have expected the impact she would have on us, and everyone who met her, nor the love and bond she would give and form with a blind goat wanting a doting friendship.

We remember it well. Found by a volunteer on the way to the farm a little lamb was collected from the side of the road. Such was her condition in these months she was clinging to life. Had she not been picked up when she was she would have been dead within a couple of hours at the maximum. Her lethargy and poor state saw her provide no fight or fear when picked up. Upon arrival, we would take her temperature to find that she was a massive 43C! To those unfamiliar, this is "cooking the insides" temperature for a sheep or lamb. The fact that she had survived at all bearing this heat was astounding. It was operation frantic as we began to bring her temperature down and try to get some feed into her belly. 

Looking so tiny it was initially thought that this girl was approximately a month of age. Attempts to give her milk, or even Vyrtate, were futile as she simply refused to take it. She would, though, immediately eat hay. Wonder set in and we figured two things. Either she was from a discarded background and, having to fend for herself, had gone straight to solids or she was older than she looked. We have had lambs before that came from situations where milk intake was a bare minimum seeing them progress quickly, and earlier than usual, to grass. Was this girl the same? Our vet would visit this day, making sure anti-inflammatory was administered, and she would finally help decipher a past. Lilah, as she was now called, was a stunted growth lamb. She was actually about 3 months old but small for her size most probably due to a zero intake of colostrum and early milk from mum. She would always be a small girl but there was no reason that she couldn't live a happy and healthy life. 

As the weeks went by it was obvious that Lilah was going to pass all tests in front of her and leave her bad start behind. Immediately she began providing that infectious and cute look that little lambs do. Coming to us at a few months old meant Lilah was trusting but not trusting enough to accept touch. This would come later as time went on and familiarity set in. Having said that it didn't take long. We are sure it was because she knew that this new place and new people she was encountering had saved her life. Little pats here, head scratches there, Lilah was so cute in her mannerisms. Whilst she would not be totally trusting she would provide no fight when you picked her up and sat her on your lap. She was content to be close to you in that way, cuddling close to a warm body not unlike a lamb and its mother. But more importantly than that contact with us was a relationship and bond that would begin to form almost instantly.

Little Betty, the blind goat of Furever Farm was housed in the same pen as Lilah. Betty had been coupled with another goat, Bart, but independence had found young Bart's life and Betty really needed a close friend to nurture her sight. We have never seen a bond form like the one that formed between Lilah and Betty. These two gorgeous bundles of joy would become inseparable and so loving that they understood each other’s language. Literally they would stand side by side, Betty would call out to Lilah when lost or Lilah would call out to Betty when she wanted her to join her in a particular part of the farm. She would direct a path for Betty to follow and, as we would let them out their pen to roam, Lilah would always remain behind Betty to push her in the right direction if need be. We will never forget the day Lilah was following us as Betty lulled behind. We would look at Lilah and ask her where Betty was. Lilah would turn, look to Betty and call her until Betty joined her on the walk. It was amazing and inspiring.  

All the while the relationship Lilah had with people had grown. She endeared us, she warmed our hearts and we loved her, it is as simple as that. We adored her. She had just started approaching us for touch. No longer did we have to approach Lilah gently and attempt to give her a pat. She now walked up to us and sought out affection. 

One fateful and disastrous day would cripple our hearts and emotions beyond repair. We do mean beyond repair, we are still attempting to accept what happened on April 30.

These animals, the outside animals, our dogs all know the farm so well. They know the work that goes on 24/7. They end up knowing the people within as well as they know us, being here all the time. The vehicles, the machinery, the tools they are all familiar with and they keep away from moving objects. Every day on the farm the animals’ paddocks are cleaned and, of course, the animals are fed. Food is life therefore it must be done before anything else takes place. We deal with fruit, vegetable, bread, grain, various hays, the list is endless. Hay is distributed in two ways - large round bales or small hay squares. Almost every day of the week the grown sheep in Lizzie's Paddock are fed a few small squares. On this day the decision was made to place a large round bale within their home. Already, as this is written, the "what if" comes to mind. To move a round bale requires the use of the heavy tractor. On this day it was used and the bale was placed within the paddock without issue. Darren would be driving out of the paddock, gate held by a volunteer, and he would take the same driveway as always heading to put the tractor away. No animals we seen. No dogs, no goats, no lamb. Darren would feel the bump of the tractor and even before turning his head was in frantic anxiety. As much as this area is known for rocks, there are no rocks on the driveways. It took a second. A split second but thinking now everything seemed so slow. Out of the corner of his eye, Darren would see a body. It was a body that was still moving, it attempted to get up before slumping to the ground in defeat. Upon full look the heart starts to race, the breathing starts to increase and the almost numb feeling in your mind begins to take over as all you can do is repeat the same words over and over and over. "Oh no....oh no....oh no".

By now it was evident it was the most beautiful girl in the world. It was Lilah, still looking at you with eyes so wide in panic. We will not describe the condition Lilah was in as it is simply too graphic and upsetting. Darren would slump to his knees, tears pouring down his face and cup Lilah's little head. He knew there was nothing, absolutely nothing he could do to save Lilah's life. All he could do was cradle her and tell her it was alright, to close her eyes and go to sleep. He felt her heart as it still beat. Slowly, about 30 seconds, little Lilah's hearts stopped and her eyes glazed over. Lilah was gone. Darren and the volunteer would cry. Darren would cry for days afterwards. The accident that took a precious life will resonate in this farm for many a year. This gorgeous soul did not deserve to die like this. She was only just getting started, she had so much to live for and this is just unfair. The entire situation is played over and over again in the minds of who was here. Hayley still thinks of the perfect girl who was taken before she was home to say goodbye. Darren continues to hate himself. He was the driver, he thinks he should have seen her. His guilt, labelled non-rationale by his doctor, is stubborn. He feels he deserves no absolution. The healing will take so so long such was the terrible and shocking events. 

At the end of the day we have lost a gorgeous girl. A gorgeous girl has lost her life. Never to be forgotten in all of this, a blind goat named Betty has lost her soul mate. Betty is now quiet, she is lost as she continues to search for a friend that she knows is gone. Her confusion must be insurmountable. Two lives were taken that day. One we had to lay to rest. The other we care for through her grief. We love you, Lilah. We will care for your Betty forever. We will never forgive ourselves, you deserved such a long, loving life. The path to acceptance of your departure is exceptionally lengthy. Memory is everything and that you deserve.

We saw the end of April 2020 as a long time coming. We would not wish a month like that on anybody. Animals are our life and we are supposed to be the givers of life. Failure is not an option in our minds and failure is some of what we feel. Again, it is rescue. It is a sanctuary. There are so many animals that the law of average is going to claim a precious soul. But really, honestly. If situations are meant to test people we are at a loss as to what this "test" was. Being so adoring of animals makes death harder than usual. You do feel them closely. You tend to personalise each passing and thus you feel a part of your soul departs with the animal loved. We don't think there is any way to avoid that and we don't particularly think there is anything wrong with it.  In fact, if we didn't think and feel like that perhaps we shouldn't be doing what we are doing? Never! We will never stop helping the animals no matter the heartache along the way because our heartache pales in comparison to what these animals go through. Never the less...….we are more than happy to be in a different month.

Darren, Hayley & all the Furever Farm team.