As former Cardinal Bergoglio of Argentina was chosen to take stewardship of the Catholic church this week, I watched, with a high degree of interest and some degree of hope, the direction of the new papacy.  Raised in the Catholic faith, I identify strongly with Christian values: humanity and charity being foremost. As a result, the focus of my charitable efforts throughout adulthood unequivocally became advocacy for animals.

Abhorring patriarchy, and based on the church’s adherence to the doctrine that animals have no soul, in early adulthood I chose to disengage with the Catholic faith – as I could never ascribe to either ideology. I am certainly no fan of any view that propagates the exclusion of any marginalized soul. And there is no mistaking: animals worldwide are severely marginalized. Misrepresented again and again in media, treated as objects in law, treated insignificantly in commerce, minimized or ignored in politics, and sadly in too many instances, abused and neglected in daily practice.

That said, as the new Bishop of Rome stepped onto the balcony (sans throne!) to address his faithful, I was struck by his first request: that of our prayers for him. The moment was electric – tens of thousands went absolutely still, as did I, taking pause and considering what we might wish for this man as he undertakes his new office.

Then came the staggering confirmation that he chose the name Pope Francis to represent his new identity. I was flooded with emotion – Saint Francis: the revered Patron Saint of Animals. As a proud member of the worldwide animal rescue movement, one of the few Catholic holy days I honor to this day is that of the feast of Saint Francis each year in early October.

This animal rescuer and practicing Christian was struck by the possibility of a true Franciscan who embraces the disenfranchised and who, by virtue of choosing the name Francis, might actually include all this world’s animals in his mission to reform: farm animals, wildlife, domestic pets and marine-life. Horrifically abused and commoditized, animals worldwide also need a compassionate leader.  I hoped that the media would seize on the aspect of the new papacy safeguarding animals as well, but predictably, the animal topic ended up on the “B-roll” of the media spin.

Pope Francis has an opportunity to serve as a leader for this planet’s millions of horribly marginalized animals, as well as our battered environment. Surely anyone who takes the name of Saint Francis would, while “rebuilding the church”, consider delivering a special nod to his namesake and open up a small portion of his ministry to embrace animals.

Pope Francis is potentially a reforming Pope, and he’s already shown some mettle. My fervent prayer for him going forward, in attempting to deliver relevance, meaning and guidance to a global following circa 2013, is that he has the vision, the clarity, the heart and sheer brass, to put animals on his agenda and truly espouse Saint Francis’ championing of animals in word and in deed.

Animals and their rescuers worldwide, read: millions of us, would be incredibly comforted and grateful.  And should he publicly utter one statement remotely resembling the championing animals, I would be seriously compelled to reconsider my faith.

One of the purest of loves is that of a mother for her child.  Recently, at Farm Sanctuary’s Orland California farm, (www.farmsanctuary.org), a beautiful sheep mother gave birth to two baby girls, Zuri and Elizabeth.  Scads of folk have been overjoyed by regular updates on their young lives, the happiness they exude, relishing photos of their farmyard gymnastics, and witnessing the enduring closeness they are allowed with their mother. If only they knew how many humans are monitoring their progress and how many human hearts they have healed just by being alive – straight across the North American advocacy community and beyond. This little sheep family will happily live out their lives just being sheep, doing sheep things, having their sheep needs met. In their first three weeks, the babies have been “liked” thousands of times, everyone anxiously awaiting the latest photos of the little darlings and their ultra-proud momma Dolly.

This was juxtaposed with another recent event, where humans witnessed and reported a mother bear killing her own child and then herself. Now, I’m up to my ears in animal issues, but I’ve never heard of animal suicide. I could almost not believe what I was reading. Sadly, the mother bear was trapped in a bile manufacturer setting, where the animal is imprisoned in a cage with a tube permanently inserted in to her stomach that removes bile for commercial purposes. The mother, knowing what they were going to do to her baby, rushed the young one when she had a chance, smothered it to death and then ran herself straight into a wall head-first and killed herself. http://bit.ly/qmxViC

Working in animal advocacy is always tough. Bridging the discrepancy between our societal beliefs on animals (and how much we love them) and our actual treatment of them (how we exploit them), is a near impossible goal that animal advocates work on 24/7, straight across the globe.

This valentine’s day, as I think about Dolly and her babies, and the poor dear bear and her young one, I am reminded of my own mother. Now nearly five years gone, my mother’s love lives in my heart, her voice comes out in my words, her spirit comes out in my actions, her teachings guide my life. My mother’s name was Mary. She taught me to never walk away from someone in need.

Dolly the sheep is now teaching her young how to navigate farm life, how to stay together as family, and how to watch out for and protect each other. I wonder what that dear bear mother would have taught her young one, had she not been cruelly trapped and forced to live a life of hell.  But perhaps in reflecting on it, the bear mother showed the greatest love of all: protecting her child at all costs from a world that only cared about money and commerce, and didn’t care about love and life. Showing the greatest emotional and physical strength, she put an end to it for herself and her baby.

I hope anyone reading this will take the time to remember just how much every mother loves her children, whether they are human or animal, and take conscious action to help reduce the suffering for animals. This Valentine’s Day, I’m holding that momma bear very close in my heart, and I’m making sure in the only way I can, that her love, her story, her voice, will live on.

The first surprise at Farm Sanctuary was  that we had house chickens. Knowing the crowd I was getting in with, I suspected there would be rescue animals stashed hither and thither. But I never imagined we’d have house chickens, and it just so happened we did. From day one, three little birds nestled their way straight into my heart – as well as everyone else’s at Intern House. Hazel and Piper were two tiny chickens, enjoying attention and care every day with 150 other farm animals. One of the first things we learned was how to catch, hold, carry & negotiate fences with two birds in hand, always keeping them facing away from each other!

Hazel (brown hen) & Piper (black hen) could not stay in the regular chicken barns because the others would pick on them and they were too small to adequately defend themselves. Tho, to be clear, neither had any problem pushing back. They were just outweighed by others and they, and the others, knew it. In the morning, we’d let them out of their kennels to peck around the kitchen floor for an hour, then we’d round them up and carry them down to the chicken barns … (Hazel & Piper’s limo service …) Hazel was hilarious because she didn’t like to be caught, let alone be carried anywhere – you had to corner her and be quick!  Piper was easier. All you had to do was dangle a piece of spinach or grape in front of her and she’d gladly run over and be caught. Even the smallest pieces of grape were huge in their beaks. Hazel knew the spinach/grape trick and would run in the opposite direction!

By the time we got down to the barns to start the day, all the regular chickens, ducks, geese and turkeys were already let out of their barns, and the little ones could then go in the barn, and peck, and be regular chickens for the day. At night, we’d bring them back to the house. They’d roam around the common area for an hour or two, before being kenneled for the night. During those evenings I found out how loving, curious and interactive they could be.  It was fun to watch them spend time with humans, wonderful to have them perch on the spine of the couch behind you staring you down, cocking their little heads when you spoke to them. Sometimes they’d let you cuddle them, if you gave them enough time to settle into your lap or your arms, but only on their terms.

One of the goals of spending time with Piper & Hazel was to socialize them to humans, so that they could be adopted out.  Who’d have ever thought of adopting a chicken as a house-pet? Not that I’m encouraging any new pet fads by any means,  but in my experience as a rescuer, there’s always a chicken or goose in need somewhere, and it’s a wonderful option to consider just taking one in, as opposed to searching for a rescue farm with room, etc. (NTD: Can I have one? Just a little one?)

A week later, we acquired another little house chicken named Ramona. I must say if Ramona had been able to endure the flight to Toronto, I’d have brought her home – she was just such a darling little girl.  She was picked up from a local shelter and was probably a “garage chicken” – chickens that people keep in their garages to slaughter for food. Incidentally, Toronto has thousands of garage chickens. I’ve called in many such homes in my day (and encourage others to call Board of Heath too!)   Ramona’s personality was quite calm, she took everything in stride. On the first night, she accidentally flew into the garbage can in the kitchen … I mean, flew right into it, sank, and couldn’t get out.  She wasn’t even ruffled. I just went in, and picked her out, and put her back on the floor and closed the lid.   There is no feeling on earth that compares to holding a bird in your hands. This is Ramona being retrieved from the garbage can. 

Perry and Andy are two honkin’ male turkeys, about 50 lbs each.  And they are not nice turkeys! Perry lived with Chico, a white rooster, who was also a nasty piece of work. We all had good reason to fear them.  I was ok to get in their pen and clean, as long as I had an extra large plastic rake in hand to block them with. You’d not be surprised to see a rooster fly at you, but I’ll tell you, seeing a fifty pound turkey take flight and aim directly for you, is quite another thing!  Perry especially liked trying to bite you as you undid the chain on his pen. He knew exactly where and how to hit your hands with his beak. Premeditation was Perry’s game! Here, he’s just waiting on you to enter his pen, with Chico as defenceman. 

So, yes, there were some difficult birds, just as there were difficult cows and pigs (but not the goats, they were perfect!) :) There were also some stunningly sweet birds: chickens, geese, turkeys – every color, shape, size and personality you can imagine!

Look at this golden beauty!  Does anyone remember Peter Gabriel’s song called “Excellent Birds”? That kept recurring in my head as I would watch them.

In factory farms, to quote my new friend Alex, … ‘they suffer from ”standard practice” abuse. They have their beaks and toes cut or burned off and are inbred to have unnaturally large breasts. Even “free range” turkeys live in disgusting, confined spaces, often developing respiratory problems from the feces, urine and overall squalor that they are forced to spend their short lives in. When turkeys are slaughtered, they are malnourished, diseased, exhausted and stressed.’ Broiler chickens like these “Southern Belles” pictured with Mari, are the most abused animals of them all in factory farming. Read:  Kentucky fried cruelty.

Two of the most precious turkeys, Leopold and Russell, were, like Andy and Perry, 50 lb males, but they had much better attitudes. (You gotta wonder what was going on with Andy and Perry, if Leopold and Russell could be so nice…) Russell was especially endearing – he has serious trouble walking. His breasts are so large, he’s absolutely overbalanced, and to add insult to injury, his feet were badly, and intentionally, maimed by some human, as a job spec in factory farms. Such a sweet boy!  In the morning, he was always the last to leave the barn, as he was the slowest. But he was given all the time in the world he needed to negotiate his own way in or out of the barn.  He even had his own little ramp. Every caregiver, and all the time necessary. Each day. Always with respect, and genuine love. Compassion in action.

This is a batch of absolutely gorgeous turkey ladies who were dropped at the farm gates last year just before Thanksgiving. Someone obviously had mercy on them. There’s about 10 of them. I’d have given anything to decipher their language.  Especially the “pa-pa-pa-pa” sound they make. Cause they made it a lot and I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad! They seemed to enjoy being sung to. Their playlist included the “birthday song” in honour of one of my sweet friends, and a perennial favourite, “Don’t Fence Me In”.  If you took the time to sit with them, they’d come over and explore you, peck you, sit quietly beside you. Some would let you hold them.

Isn’t this girl beautiful? Sweet, fragile little lady. I’m so glad she didn’t end up as a meal. It seems a fundamental thing, that everyone has a right to keep their life. It’s all any of us ask. They are no different.

And what of laid eggs? Eggs offered up by the chickens, ducks, geese and turkeys were all taken to intern house to be boiled and brought back to the shelter office. There, the eggs are smashed up and fed back to the birds, as birds have been bred to the degree now where they are chronically calcium deficient. Sometimes eggs were used to entice animals to take their medication as well. This is a pink egg that one of the interns found. At least once a week you’d see someone with their front pockets soaked. Usually you’d pick up an egg, and put it in your pocket and forget about it. Within minutes if you didn’t deliver it to office right away, some other animal would bump into you and smash it in your pocket. Wet pockets are “standard practice” with rescuers – rather more humane take than Alex’s earlier reference with regard to “standard practices” of factory farms.

I was in the supermarket tonight, picking up some food. I do have to say that thanks to this recent exposure at Farm Sanctuary, my eyes seem to have developed a new acuity and my central nervous system has a fresh, absolutely visceral response to dairy sections and meat bins. I stopped for a moment and looked at the frozen turkeys. With my hands over my heart, I said a mental prayer, and came home to publish this blog.

Excellent birds, and one hot mess!

Jan.01.13:  More animal tales from Farm Sanctuary’s Animal Acres in Acton, CA…

Postscript on cows:  I recently learned about “269” tattoos.  I had no idea a worldwide movement to confront slaughter exists. Animal activists who are unaware of the practice are encouraged to reference www.269life.com. Apparently November 1^st is now both Global Vegan Day and World 269 Day. It was most heartening to learn of this group, and get a measure of the heavy lifting they are doing in animal activism.  Note to readers: content can be disturbing, depending on your level of awareness…

TIME TO MEET THE PIGS!  We all think we know how intelligent pigs are. After all we’ve heard it, we’ve read it, it’s a cultural norm.  But to witness it is another story. Pigs are as astute as dogs with regards to time and daily routines.  When it comes feeding time, it’s as if they are all wearing invisible wrist-watches: they gather at their fence screaming for you to get on it already!  Twice a day you’d see the caretakers at the farm running the gauntlet through the gate, across the yard, from one trough to another to another to another, quick as they can with a huge bowl of feed. They’d drop a scoopful into a trough and race to the next – but it was the speed at which they ran – they had to! The pigs race with or behind the caregivers, and race against each other, around and around and around until they all settled on a trough and everyone is assured that no one is getting any more, or better, than anyone else! Whew. They are really intense about feeding.  Thankfully I never had to actually feed them, I’d have been quite afraid.

Good news: of all the animals, the pigs kept their barns the most consistently clean. Questionable news:  they regularly drink each other’s pee. Note to self, ask a veterinarian about the merits of that particular behaviour!

Pigs form strong bonds with each other and can also exhibit intense dislikes of other pigs: they are selective, hierarchical and vehement about it!   They recognize and acknowledge illness/otherness, check on each other during the day, regularly visit one another and other pig friends who may be sequestered for medical or behavioural reasons. They bed down together in small packs glued to each other, day and night alike. Pigs know fear, and experience it just as  greatly as humans.  I saw no difference between the anxiety a human can experience and witnessing the anxiety a pig can experience. When threatened, they absolutely stand up for themselves and each other, and express themselves quite capably. They fight hard. They’re not taking any shit, that’s for sure.  It’s really too sad that factory farmed pigs have to take so much. Learned-helplessness, especially when brutally forced on you, is not a nice place to be. If pigs are as definitive in thought and intent as they are in their day to day interaction, it’s more than a crying shame that they are forced to live on factory farms and in gestation crates, at the mercy of not-so-evolved humans.

Because they’re so intelligent, they can be quite industrious! They make exquisite beds in their barns. I know, because I picked more than one of those beds and they’re really mashed!  Essentially the pigs work and work and work on the straw, chewing it, moving it, packing it down and all around their bodies, resulting in perfect imprints of a full-bodied 800 lb pig in the straw. You have to see it to believe it. Sadly, I never got the photo I wanted of their handiwork on the beds. I really liked the environment they all shared. The terrain they occupy is on a central part of the farm, where there’s always human/animal activity, and their yard has small hills and dales to climb, the ability to check on other animals, and a pond to bathe in. There was some talk of getting them safe toys to play with.

What’s that? Can I have it?  Can I eat it?  When awake, pigs like to play – they clearly need mental stimulation and/or “industry” as all animals do, humans included. On the farm, when cleaning animal waters in the morning, interns are encouraged to let the water run and let the main trough and pond fill themselves while you carry on and clean the small troughs in the barns. I soon came to realize that if you stayed at the main trough and filled it, the pigs would come over one after the other for a drink from the hose!  From there on in, no one would deny them their fun at the fountain each day.  Really, such a tiny gesture to allow another measure of quality of life into their days.  They also like to grab a bucket and kick it around, stomp on it, push it, argue over domination of it, toss it, squat on it, crumple it. All this while clocking about 18 hours of sleep each day, preferably in the sun.  This is Sophie drinking from the hose (you should see her smile, it’s just beautiful – she always greets you with a smile), and the main clan having a siesta together.

It was a delight meeting Alicia, a Yorkshire Cross who arrived in August, 2008 along with several others.  She was used as a “farm model”/educational tool for farming communities to help (farm) children learn about livestock. Once done their service as would-be “ambassadors” (“?!”)  in their farming communities, they are sent to auction and inevitably to slaughter.

Jimmy the Snout, arrived with a congenital defect: a deformed nose.  There were a lot of stories surrounding Jimmy’s arrival at the farm, but the short of it is that a homeless man owned him and couldn’t take care of him anymore at the junk yard where they were living. The man was afraid of Jimmy, and surrendered him. (Good thinking!) This is Jimmy. He’s very bonded with Christina – seeks her out all the time…

Jumper, a Yorkshire arrived in March 2009, at just few weeks old. She came directly from a breeding facility. She was a runt.  Whenever runts are born they usually don’t survive: they aren’t expected to grow and thrive, so they are often violently killed. Jumper was a really tiny pig that one of the employees at the breeding facility felt sorry for, and smuggled to safety. Jumper is blind. A nice, intelligent, curious girl, with strong boundaries.

Jorja, a female Yorkshire Cheshire pig, was found in a central California stockyard in October 2005 by a truly courageous rescuer, who would frequently go out and grab animals at auction or slaughterhouses that were sick, or dying.  Apparently Jorja was badly beat up – there is some speculation as to whether the beating came from a human child or another pig.  She was unable to stand. Photos showed she was in heavy shock, extremely battered, bruised, and scarred and bloodied on arrival. Today, Jorja is a huge, engaged, happy pig living a decent life, on her terms.

Christina came from a college where she was used as a model to show children how pig products were used, in this case for, of all things, pizza products. NTD: you can’t make this stuff up! Christina is unpredictable, moody, and does not suffer fools.  Interestingly I was there one day witnessing her allowing a perfect stranger, a human fellow, to help her. This person is the strongest (both physically and mentally) person I’ve ever met – amazing individual whose mission is to just put his shoulder to it and save animals.  His compassion, calmness and strength were very clearly well-received by Christina, as these attributes were by all the animals he worked with. Thanks to this rescuer, one of my 2013 goals is to be able to clear a four-foot fence using just my hands, just like he can!  Caboose and Macy are part of this pig clan too – I never got to know much about either of them, but I remember making a mental note of how Macy handled herself. She had a nice way about her – she got along with all pigs in the clan, all humans on the farm.  This is Macy, getting a drink from Mari, an excellent, hard-working intern from Texas.

In speaking with the caregivers and administration folk at the farm, I found it really heartening to learn of so many more humans helping so many more animals, worldwide.  Obviously rescuers can only get to a small percentage of those in need – usually each individual animal is sorely in need by the time rescue is involved.  I derived a lot of strength from seeing the actions and knowing the numbers of people saving them. Almost always the rescue was without question – rescuers and activists just get in there and save them, no matter the cost, no matter the amount of complexity, nor the risk.  Beautiful, brave, committed human souls saving beautiful, broken, distressed animals – all over the world!

BTW, please be warned about current “trend” for purchasing micro-pigs as pets. “Micro-pig” is a misnomer, as well as a completely unnecessary ordeal for the rescue community to clean up behind:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmNR7giTLGI.

The last lady whose story I want to share is Sabrina’s, a beautiful organge-ish coloured pig. Sabrina was taken from a backyard butcher. This man had a “pigs for sale” sign on the highway, and he would slaughter and sell pigs to anyone who wanted one on the spot. Sabrina arrived at Farm Sanctuary with a recent batch of young – eleven piglets at the time, four of which didn’t make it. She had been used as a breeder for this backyard butcher.  Because this was the first batch of piglets she was allowed to keep, she was extremely protective of them, and initially quite aggressive. Sadly, Sabrina probably witnessed or heard her first few batches of piglets being killed on the property she came from – there’s no way a mother would not recognize her child’s cry and vice versa.  Happily, she is safe today at Farm Sanctuary’s Animal Acres, fulfilling her role as matriarch of her family, with seven of her only living children, “the dwarfs” … Doc, Happy, Dopey, Grumpy, Sleepy, etc. I have lots of video of Sabrina and her family, but haven’t yet mastered capturing stills from video…

While advocates, rescuers and activists continue to fight to abolish the use of ultra-cruel gestation crates, and world-wide activists are actively work on exposing the horrific realities of factory farming, we still need regular citizens to understand the plight of all pigs born for human consumption. The meat pigs that go to slaughter (7,000 a day in Toronto – you know, those eyes peeking out of the truck at you at the CNE gates), are usually only six months to a year old.  Gestation pigs are only allowed the 3-5 years that they will produce viable offspring. They shit all over each other in these trucks and experience extreme distress from hot and cold weather, and traffic effects, along with their individual fears and the generalized anxiety of the entire group being transported.

A compassionate world begins with you and me: no matter how small the reduction, if we take one tiny step, any step, towards reducing our consumption of meat and dairy products, it helps enormously. Every individual who chooses not to eat meat literally saves 31 animals a year. If we reduce meat consumption by a simple half, we save 14-15 animals per year.  Imagine if everyone did that.  This human remains hopeful. If you’re not ready for dietary changes, but still want to do something/lend your voice, there are a few new groups to join: Mercy for Animals (Canada), Toronto Pig Save and  Toronto Cow Save amongst other established rescue groups, and small Canadian sanctuaries for farm animals.

Email c4p@mediaintelligence.ca or skype nadonc4pmi,  if you would like to chat about any area of interest you have in animal advocacy.

Here’s hoping 2013 is the year that consciousness and compassion for animals get some real traction.