I lost my little Rover today and I cried away my broken heart to the mountains behind our house where we planted a tree in her memory. They are the same mountains that always watch me cry over my loved ones. The same mountains that always take my grief and somehow try to shoulder it for me, to share it with me, to keep my despair safe and sound. It is like my last memory of my animals is always weeping into the mountains, looking into their golden creases and curves for some magical secret of life to make me understand it all. But all I ever get is silence, strong silence.

I have memories of Rover  in my head, her picture by my bed and a tree that we planted and will stand in place of her. But I will never kiss her head again, or breathe her in, or carry her in my arms like a baby, or look into her eyes and feel her fill me up as she returns the gaze. My little girl who weighed 20 pounds but somehow always seemed enormous and larger than life is gone!

I first met Rover 16 years ago when I went to a Los Angeles Animal shelter to pull dogs who were being put to sleep. I saw her in the back of the kennel, shaking violently with fear. Rover was scheduled to be put down in an hour from then, at closing time. Rover was a tiny black terrier with tan legs, chest and face. She had two toes that were white. Rover had the sweetest, little eyes but she was so terrified, there was no way this tiny dog would get adopted. I puled her card and gave it to the front desk to pay for her release as they rolled their eyes at me and shook their heads. No one understood my adoption choices back then. There were a hundred rescue groups that took the pretty, healthy, young adoptable ones. I wanted to take the scared, the old, the sick and the lame, the ones no one else wanted or would save. I wanted to take the ones that had no chance without me. Rover was so scared that It took the kennel workers a half an hour to catch her and by the time they had her, they were only too happy to give her to me and see her leave!

I drove the 20 minutes to my little house at the time and parked the car in the driveway. I knew, as scared as she was, that when I put her down in my house she would most likely run for cover under a bed and stay there. I knew I had one chance to prove myself. I picked Rover up, making sure to not look at her and lower my eyes to show her I meant her no harm. I held Rover that day for 4 hours, talking with her and letting her know I thought she was beautiful and brave and that I would be her mommy for the rest of her life and that she soon would forget her past. Rover trembled for the first 3 hours, but then she stopped and started looking into my eyes as if she was deciding weather to believe me or not. By the 4^th hour, Rover decided she did believe me and she licked my face and wagged her tail. I knew then that it was time to go into the house and that she would not hide.

From that day on Rover was my shadow; she followed me everywhere and when I came home from being out, she would run and leap into my arms. She slept with me, rode in the car with me, and went with me everywhere. I had a husband at the time that did not want any more dogs, but I could not break Rover’s heart by adopting her out, she would interpret that as another abandonment. So I decided to name her Rover so she could be mascot of my dog rescue, “Rover Rescue”. That worked in manipulating my husband to let me keep her. The funny thing was that I could never take her to events or adoption days because if people tried to pet her, she would bite them. So Rover was my mascot at home.

Even though Rover decided to trust me, she still seemed terrified when she saw someone else, other than me. If I had a guest over, she would literally go into convulsions. So I started inviting more folks over so she could get used to them and see that she would always be safe. At first she would bark, and shake, and hide, but after a while, she would come closer and closer until one day about 2 years later, she stopped shaking and saw that my friends would never hurt her either.

Now that I got Rover to trust me, and trust other visitors in my home, it was time for the third step in Rover’s recovery, which was to take Rover places and have her meet lots of new people in new places and see that even then, she was safe and sound.  So we went to the dog park, we went hiking on wonderful trails, we went to the beach, we went to friend’s houses and we had a blast! It was scary for her at first, and she barked and trembled, but with time and patience she learned that no matter where I took her and no matter who we met, no one was going to harm her and she was always safe with me.

It took about 5 years but Rover finally became a “normal” dog, or I should say a normal terrier. She lunged and bit at my other dogs because she thought she was top dog. She tried to bite my face playfully when I gave her kisses. But Rover loved my kids! When my son, Jesse was born Rover was so excited about her new playmate and thought I had him just for her. As he would crawl around the house she would run after him and run away from him when he would chase her. She would bow down to him as dogs do to invite play and she would lick his face and fuss over him as if he were her very own pup. Rover did the same thing when my daughter Cheyanne was little, although she had less energy than with my son, 7 years earlier.

The greatest thing about Rover was her eye contact; it was like no dog I have ever met. She loved looking into my eyes. When I would come home after going out, Rover would cry and howl at the gate until I walked through the door, then jump up on me until I picked her up, then insist that I look into her eyes. If I looked away before she was done with this bonding ritual, Rover would gently bite my nose and move her head in front of my face, until I stared into her eyes again. Rover had to have my full attention and eye contact until she was good and done; sometimes we stared into each other’s eyes for a full 10 minutes.

I had another dog, Kaylee who also loved me very much and Rover and Kaylee would constantly fight over my attention. They would argue with each other at the gate when I came home to see which one would get more of me. They would get into full-blown fights at the couch to see who got to sit in my lap. And in the bed, they would growl at each other to compete with who was going to sleep closer to me. Thankfully I had two arms and two hands and could pet them at the same time. I tried very hard to give them equal amounts of attention, but Rover could never quite figure out why I would ever pet or even notice anyone else, when I had her!”

Watching Rover get old has been a blessing and a curse at the same time. It is such an honor to have her this long and to have known her as a youngster, adult and senior. But watching her loose her dignity when she poops or pees in the house, or watching her get more and more frail has been hard. I remember the first time I noticed that she could not get through the dog door, and then later, could not find the dog door. Eventually we had to put a baby gate at the bottom of the stairs because she would try to climb up and then fall down the stairs. She pooped and peed inside the house but every time I had to clean it up I would remind myself that I had one more day with Rover I was grateful! Then one day I noticed that she was kind of spinning in circles and didn’t seem to know where she was. I don’t know if she had a stroke or if it was dementia, but she seemed totally senile. I knew then that this was the last stretch.

By looking at it, it seemed that Rover had no quality of life; she spun in circles, she got stuck behind the sink or the toilet or behind our bar. She got caught on cords or stuck in corners and did not know how to turn around. And she would walk aimlessly for what seemed like hours, like she was training for the Olympics. Then she would finally lay down and she would sleep for long stretches. I learned to get up at 5:30 AM, before her so I could catch her and put her outside, otherwise I woke up to a huge mess. She would not only go in the house, but sometimes she would fall into it and I had to clean the floor and Rover. I learned to take her out every time she woke up and about every hour to prevent accidents and I became very uncomfortable with leaving her alone, unattended. I recruited volunteers and staff to help me watch her while I was out, I reasoned that if she was a person she would probably need to be put in a home or have a full time nurse because she was not safe unattended. But Rover loved food! She would try to steal all the other dogs’ food, she would hunt me down for cookies and she would gulp down her breakfast as if she was starving. I figured that as long as she was eating she was saying, “yes” to life.

Then came the day she stopped eating. The night before she had a hard time; she kept waking around and around and she would not go to sleep or lie down. She kept getting stuck or confused and she would yelp and cry. She seemed more disoriented than before, like on a whole new level. It scared me to se her like that. At 2 AM she finally fell asleep. When she awoke in the morning she seemed lost, withdrawn, not all there. She was shivering and week and would not eat. For the first time in the 16 years I have had her, she would not eat! I gave her a hot bath to warm her and to clean her from her poop party the night before. That finally warmed her but she still refused to eat her dog food. I made her scrambled eggs from my barnyard, for which she would have bitten my fingers off before, but she barely ate it. I put pieces in her mouth and she made an attempt, but I could tell that my feisty, energetic, food addicted Rover that I knew and loved had left the building.  When I held her, she would cry and struggle to be let down. When I let her down she would spin in circles and wonder around blindly. When I let Rover outside she stuck her head between the bars of the fence and just stood there, barely able to hold herself up. And when I offered her food she would stare at it as if she did not recognize what it was. I knew this day would come, I had been preparing for it for years, I had been trying to love her and appreciate every moment with her because I knew it would be over too soon, but man oh man, did it hurt when it arrived!

The vet came out that day and I was dreading it because I thought Rover would have to be put to sleep. But the vet said that Rover had clearly suffered another stroke and lost her sense of smell. She said that if I could hand feed her that she would most likely still have an apatite, and she was right, the minute I put the food up to her mouth, Rover gulped it down like a Parana! The vet suggested that I get a crate for Rover to sleep in so she would not feel so lost when we were not around. Walking around the house unattended is terrifying for Rover and the vet explained that it is not a good life. She said that if the crate is scary for Rover as well, than it is time to say good-bye and help her out of her body. To leave her in that state of fear is cruel. However, the vet continued, if Rover can find comfort in the crate and sleep peacefully, than we could by some more time with Rover.

After the vets left I brought a nice large crate and some special food that I could hand feed to Rover. Much to my surprise, Rover loved the crate! She felt safe in there and warm.  Rover woke up to pee, poop, eat or drink and then went back to sleep, happily in the crate. It seemed like Rover had turned back into a newborn. There are many who would argue that it is not a good quality of life and that I should put Rover down, but she seemed happy in her own way, she slept peacefully, ate with gusto and walked around the yard with purpose. I didn’t want to judge her journey, I just wanted to facilitate it and make it great, and when the time came when Rover was truly done, I wanted to believe that I would know and be brave enough to let her go!

It was amazing how similar Rover’s senility was to human dementia. Rover slept late in the morning and in the evenings she would get very agitated and seem unhappy. Rover would cry to get out of her crate, but when I would hold her, she would cry to be let down and when she was in the yard she would stand in the corner and cry. During those times I did not know how to make her happy and wondered if it was time to let her go. But in the morning she would wake up bright eyed, with a healthy apatite, and full of energy. Humans with senility also do better in the morning and worse in the evening. At least Rover was sleeping well at night, at about midnight, once she did finally go to sleep.

Today Rover woke up with the same little yawn and her little sideways walk to pee as every morning recently, but when I brought her in for breakfast, she would not eat. Even when I put the food right in front of her mouth, she would not take it. Even when I put the food inside her mouth, she would not chew it, but spit it out. I struggled with her for about an hour, off and on offering her food that she would not take. All the while, she was struggling to stand, not comfortable, trying to jump off the table I had her on. After an hour I decided enough was enough! The Rover I had known and loved for 16 years left a long time ago. Her 18 year old, tired body was still here walking incessantly, not eating, uncomfortable, and enough was enough. I don’t know how I became used to the situation or became comfortable with her living like that, but this day I could not watch her live like that for another second! This was no life; Rover was living a hell and it was time!

That afternoon the vet came out to help Rover go. First they gave her a shot that made her relax and fall asleep. Once it took effect and she melted into my arms I realized with a very heavy heart that was the first time I had held Rover without her struggling to get down, for a year! It was in that moment that I knew, without any doubt, that I was doing the right thing for her. Rover’s spirit had been gone for so long, but it was as if her body was fighting to function to stay here for me. I could not let her do that for me anymore.

I told Rover that it was time for her to go, that she needed to be free, that she had been such a loyal, loving, fun, affectionate, best friend, I would always miss her and love her and that she did a great job and she was a very good doggie!

Rover left me today, and I feel so heavy with loss, so sad, but yet, when I look out into the front yard and know she is not there walking and walking and walking, I feel relieved for her, I feel happy for her. And I can feel her spirit young again, free, larger than life again, and I smile because I know that that part of her will always be with me, always!

This year Justin and Ken Wiseman from AMS Fulfillment Company donated 200 brand new toys to The Gentle Barn and we knew exactly what to do with them! We took them down to the projects in Watts and gave them to the at risk boys and girls that come to our violence prevention program and their friends and neighbors that live there.

The family that lived at the first house we went to was so excited! Kids came pouring out of the homes on that street and kids ran past us with presents in their hands and giant smiles on their faces. The moms seemed so grateful and relieved, who knows, without these gifts these kids might not have had Christmas this year.

The second house that we went to was run down and uncared for, but the people that lived inside seemed so warm and loving. The mom had an artificial leg, but that did not stop her from climbing down the steep stairway to give all of us a hug of thanks. When she first hugged me, it was quick but when she went to let go, something told me to hug her longer, that she needed it, so I held on to her and when I did that, she clung to me and I could feel her pain, her strength, her struggles, her fatigue, her perseverance. She seemed like such a strong mom that had not had a good life, but who is working so hard to give one to her kids. That hug stayed with me for days, and as I left I shed tears of sadness for her and wishes for an easier, better life for her and her kids.

The third house we went to looked like a jail; it was a small, dark, undecorated house with no trees or grass and a tall iron fence all the way around it. The two teens that lived there came out of the house with faces that showed a life of misery. No smiles, no enthusiasm, just hopelessness and defeat. Their mother had left them when they were just small babies and has never returned. The father is on drugs and the grandmother has been left to care for them. The boy just watches TV all day.  The girl actually gets very good grades, but seems so depressed and blames herself for her moms disappearance.  Even as we gave them the gifts, their faces did not light up, did not change, just stayed the same ashen grey. So young, but the innocence and the curiosity in life is long gone!

After leaving there with an ache in our bellies, we went to the projects, which are appartments given to folks underneath the poverty line, people who could not afford housing anywhere else. The minute we pulled up and families figured out what we were doing, crowds of children came from every corner to reach their hands out for a gift. They came on bike, on foot, in strollers, or crawled. We saw every age, even adults who wondered if they could have one too. We saw 8 year olds holding tiny babies, with no parents. We saw toddlers alone, barefoot, with dirt and snot streaming down their faces. We saw parents that were clearly struggling with addiction. But mostly we saw families to whom life has not been kind. We saw adults who’s dreams have long ago died and who are stuck in lives they didn’t want and didn’t ask for.

When the last present had been handed out and the crowd dispersed, we quietly drove home, grateful for our lives, grateful for the work that we do to keep dreams alive in children so they don’t end up like that, and determined to return next year with 1,000 gifts for these children.

If this small act of generosity, this small gesture, can give these children hope, or even a good holiday, so that they feel noticed, unforgotten, important, maybe that feeling can linger and give them a small but pageant taste of what life could be, if they just keep trying. Maybe they will realize that there is hope, there is something to look forward to, there is a good life out there and that they can be happy, perhaps….

Daisy was one of The Gentle Barn’s first chickens. There was a woman who had a lot of animals and lost her job and her house. I found her living in her car with about 30 chickens, some cats, two dogs and a goose. I asked if I could lighten her load and help her out. When we took her animals to the safety of The Gentle Barn, the woman was relieved and able to focus on getting back on her feet again, which she did.

Daisy was always beautiful but did not like being held or pet, so every day I would tell her how beautiful she was and how much I loved her, but I always respected her wishes and did not try to hold her. Every day I would collect the eggs because if I had space for more chickens I wanted to rescue them, not create more. Every time I would take Daisy’s eggs away she would get so angry and chase me around the yard yelling at me. Daisy really wanted to be a mom! One day I could not find daisy, and she went missing for about 28 days. Even though I looked everywhere I could not find her. One day about a month later, Daisy came out of hiding with a beautiful chick. I will never forget the look on her face; she looked so proud and triumphant!

Daisy was a great mom and doted on her son all day, every day. I’ll always remember the sounds she made to her baby. She had a specific sound when there was danger and he would dive under her wings for safety. She had a completely different sound when she found something tasty to eat and he would come running happily and gulp down whatever she found. Owl grew into a very handsome rooster and he was king of the barnyard and all the hens followed him around and adored him. He would make the same sounds Daisy made to him when he was a baby and he would watch with satisfaction when the hens would come running and eat his found treat. He would never eat himself, only watch with pride as they enjoyed the meal.

About a year ago Daisy started following me around and putting herself in front of me, as if she was trying to say something. It scared me because she never liked being held, but it seemed as if she was asking me to pick her up. So I took her to the vet and sure enough she was very thin and her abdomen was filled with fluid. Because she was now 12 years old, which is old for a chicken, she was not a good candidate for surgery, so the vet drained the fluids and put her on some meds. From that day on she seemed to surrender and allow us to pick her up, pet her, feed her, and she would meet us at the gate of the barnyard and follow us around. We gave her nutritional supplements and special food to help her gain strength and weight. It seemed like the more we helped her feel better the more affectionate she got until she was demanding being held by all of us.

Daisy spent the last 6 months of her life sleeping in the heated Gentle Barn office, being fed grapes and all kinds of special treats, and being cradled, rocked and held by all our volunteers. This morning Daisy passed away in her sleep. She seemed so peaceful, happy and ready to go. She looked as if she had quietly, unceremoniously slipped away when she was ready. She had a picture perfect life, one in which she was respected, got to be a mom and raise her son, and got to have a deep, loving relationship with us before she went.

It is difficult to imagine The Gentle Barn without Daisy; she has greeted the morning and ended each day with me for the past 12 years! But she was one of the lucky ones, a chicken that knew freedom, respect, love and kindness. I wish more chickens could live like that. I also wish more people could have met her; her quiet good natured ways, her love of life, her happy sounds and her full language. For those of us who did know her, our lives will never be the same, forever changed! She peeped her way into our hearts and even though she is gone, a part of her is still lodged there, in our hearts forever more!

12 years ago a man approached The Gentle Barn and said that he purchased a turkey for thanksgiving and was planning to raise him and slaughter him for the holiday, but when it came time to do the deed, he could not do it. So he wanted us to take the turkey and give him a home. He warned us that he was very mean and aggressive and that I should always carry a rake with me so I could protect myself if he should strike. He also told me that he was as dumb as a box of rocks. I never had a turkey before so I believed the man and agreed that I would use caution.

I named the turkey Tommy. That first night I told Tommy that he was safe at The Gentle Barn and I would take great care of him, always making sure he had plenty of good food, clean water and love. He listened intently and seemed harmless to me, but what did I know, this was my first turkey. The first night he was with me I showed Tommy where he would eat and sleep. He went into the room easily without protest and seemed to understand that I was helping him be comfortable for the night. The second night I remembered the man telling me that Tommy was not smart, so I went to find him to show him again where he would eat and sleep. I looked all over the barnyard and could not find him anywhere. Finally I found him standing in front of his door waiting for me to open it for him. Oops, maybe turkeys are not so dumb after all?

For weeks I carried the rake around with me incase Tommy wanted to attack me, and for weeks he would just watch me as if he was thinking, ‘what is with the chick and the rake?” Finally I realized that he was not going to hurt me and I put down the rake. I had Tommy for 2 and a half years and he never, ever hurt me, or any of the Gentle Barn visitors.

Tommy was not a cuddly sort of guy, he preferred to show off and have folks admire him. He had little time to be pet, although he did enjoy a good conversation and was an excellent listener. One time Tommy hurt himself and I had to clean his face and put medicine on it. It was near his eye and he had to stay very still, other wise it might get into his eye. I explained the situation to him and asked him to stay perfectly still. Tommy knew he had been hurt and knew that even though he was a tuff guy, he needed help from mommy. Tommy did not move a hair (or a feather) and allowed me to clean his sore and put cream in it every day until it healed. Once it healed he went back to being a macho man, but I will never forget the time he allowed me to care for him.

One day a little girl came to visit and Tommy loved her right away, I don’t know why. He just chose her for whatever reason. Tommy went over to her and put his head on her tummy and just stayed like that. They cuddled like that for about an hour, until finally the girl had to leave. When she tried to walk away he grabbed her sweatshirt and hung on to hit, not wanting to let her go. It was the only time that he forgot about showing off and just wanted to cuddle.

It has been years since Tommy passed away, but not a day goes by without me thinking of him and being grateful for what he taught me. Tommy taught me so much about turkeys and even more about stereotypes! Tommy was not at all who the man who gave him to us saw him as. Tommy was kind, smart and a gentleman. We love to put animals in boxes: “Dog are loyal, cats are independent, pigs are dirty, cows are dumb, turkeys are stupid” But the truth is that we are all the same we just look different. The only difference between the species is our perception of them!

Thank you Tommy, you were a fine bird! We love and miss you!

Our turkeys Monty and Marsha were rescued from Thanksgiving two years ago. They act like a married couple with Marsha always fussing over him and Monty, patient and loving with his bride. Monty thinks he is a movie star and lives to please and show off for his fans. When we call out his name he gobbles back to us.

Wild turkeys live for about 20 years, can fly, run, mate and live in large family groups. Domesticated turkeys are genetically engineered to get very big, very fast so they can be slaughtered when they are only 12 weeks old. They live only a few years and cannot run or mate and have a hard time walking. They are so intelligent and affectionate, it is such a shame that their bodies are set up to fail.

Monty had health issues and we almost lost him last year. He was in heart failure and the vet told us to say our goodbyes and that he would not recover. But miraculously, Monty did recover and stayed with us to keep dazzling folks with his magic personality and winning plumage. With his beautiful wife by his side, what’s not to love? Monty and Marsha will be down by the picnic tables this month to give you extra love, so please come see them if you can!

Sponsor a Gentle Barn turkey this month, it will feel so good to know that you are giving the gift of life and love to a turkey for Thanksgiving! You will receive a picture of the turkey you sponsored and their story, and each month you will get an emailed update with a new picture. Sponsor a turkey today!

When I was eleven years old, my religious Jewish school was doing something called Kapparot, an orthodox Jewish tradition which is done the evening before the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur. As part of the Kapparot ceremony, people take live chickens, swing them over their heads and then slaughter them.  The idea is that the chicken is supposed to absorb the sins of the person swinging the chicken over their head, and when the chicken is killed their sins are killed with the chicken.

Thankfully the swinging part of the ritual was done out of my sight, but afterwards the chicken looked absolutely terrified so I went to comfort her.  I held her and let her know that she was OK now.  At the sound of my voice and my caresses she calmed down and settled into my lap, but moments later the principle came rushing in and declared that the chicken had to be taken to the slaughterhouse immediately.  I sat there completely stunned as my new friend was ripped out of my arms and sent to her death.

I went home mortified and declared to my parents that I would never eat an animal again.  They responded with, “That’s nice dear, now sit down and have some chicken soup.” I yelled out, “Didn’t you hear me?  I am not eating animals any more!” “It’s not an animal,” my mom said cheerfully, “it is just chicken soup.”

Despite my mom’s attempts to derail me, suggesting I would be sick and die if I didn’t eat meat, I held to my convictions and now, more than thirty years later, I still DO NOT eat or wear animals and am very healthy and happy.

A couple weeks ago we received a call from a woman who spotted a chicken behind a temple, in a very orthodox Jewish neighborhood, just a day after The Day of Atonement.  At first Jay and I looked at each other perplexed and wondered what would a chicken be doing there, in the city? Soon the realization seeped in and we both realized that it was clearly a chicken who had been used for Kapparot and had somehow escaped before being slaughtered.  This little bird had such an incredible will to live that he found a way to escape into the street and not be caught.

When we realized what he had been through and how miraculous his escape was, we stopped what we were doing and immediately arranged to retrieve the terrified and skinny chicken and bring him to the safety of The Gentle Barn.  Here he will be safe for the rest of his life.  Sadly, because of his ordeal he has lost a lot of feathers, is very thin and absolutely terrified of humans.  We have a lot of work to do to earn his trust and bring joy and hope back to his heart.

I realized that somehow my life has come full circle:  When I was 11, I was helpless to save my feathered friend or to stop the practice of Kapparot, but her fate enlightened me to the truth and encouraged me to pursue my childhood dream of starting The Gentle Barn. This day, however, I WAS ABLE TO SAVE THIS CHICKEN and smile as I realized, that instead of scapegoating an innocent creature for our bad choices, we can bring in the New Year with kindness in our hearts, a mission to plant the seeds of compassion in others, and the intention for a more loving world!

For those who practice Kapparot, there is a wonderful alternative to swinging the chicken.  You can swing a small handkerchief or a bag with coins in it over your your head instead and then donate the coins to a sanctuary with chickens.  We applaud and fully support this alternative and would be filled with gratitude if you chose to donate it to The Gentle Barn.

I’m looking out my window at our newly rescued goats frolicking in our barnyard as if they have been here their whole life and my heart swells with happiness. The vets came out yesterday to listen to the goats’ lungs to see if they were healed or not. Their lungs sounded clear, so we gave them each a sponge bath and let them go out of quarantine to meet the other animals.

I remember the first time I saw the three goats that we rescued from a backyard butcher. They were emaciated with no life left in their eyes. Their hearts, souls and bodies had begun shutting down, preparing for death. They were walking skeletons with coarse, brittle hair, and paper-thin skin. We were scared to touch them for fear we might tear the skin completely. They had wracking coughs, runny noses and very high temperatures. The prognosis from the vet was not good but she sent us home with antibiotics and a list of instructions.

The first 2 weeks were the hardest. Every day I had to give them medicine to bring down the fevers, sub-q fluids to rehydrate them, antibiotic shots to ward off the infections, nutritional supplements to boost their immune systems, small amounts of food so they would gain weight slowly and not bloat, and I turned on the mist system every day to break up the congestion in their lungs. Not only was this just simply a lot of work, but my patients were terrified of humans, so getting them to stand still and accept my help was the hardest chore. Moving very slowly and talking quietly, I inched my way into their hearts, and gained their trust, but it was a grueling process.

After a couple of weeks their fevers broke and they decided to trust me. They also realized that the sticky concoction I was putting down their throats was making them feel better. Once they realized this, they greeted me every morning with little, soft, sweet baaahs, excited about the help I was bringing. One of the goats, Joy was gaining weight in her belly, but not on her ribs or hips and it looked strange.  So, we had the vet come out and do ultrasounds on all three goats making sure there would be no surprises later. Sassy and divine were fine, but Joy is pregnant with twins! Seeing the tandem heart beats on the ultrasound machine was a very bittersweet moment; knowing that we saved 5 lives instead of three was exciting, but I worried whether Joy was strong enough to survive starvation and feed her fetuses.  She needed the nutrients for herself. Also, the heavy-duty meds that saved her life can cause birth defects in her babies. The vet said that the twins are due in December and she is on standby should they have defects that need correcting. We are giving her every supplement that we can think of to make her and her babies strong. We will keep our fingers crossed and hope for an easy and healthy delivery for mom and kids.

In the mornings, after I gave them their meds, supplements, and breakfast, I would sit down and spend some time with them. Those were the most magical moments of all. Sassy, the little brown LaMancha goat with her elf ears, would come right over and sniff my ears, nibble my nose, eat my hair, and lie next to me while I pet her. She seemed like someone’s former pet; so comfortable with people and confident in asking for attention. I imagined her living a pretty good life, and possibly because of the economy she was sent to auction and ended up at the butchers, being fattened up for someone’s barbecue. Thank goodness we were able to save her!!!

Then Devine, a little shy and hesitant, would come over and bow her head to me, inviting me to scratch her head. From her beautiful crown, I would inch my fingers down her neck and along her spine, massaging and scratching as I went. She would stand perfectly still, letting me know she loved it. When she got to a really itchy spot she would lean into me. And when we were done, she would come over and lick my face and rub her head against mine to thank me. I wondered if she had ever before been pet gently by human hands?

Joy is so beautiful but has no idea how to ask for attention so I had to go to where she was and offer some love. After eating breakfast she usually lies against a wall and rests as she is eating and resting for three. When I sit by her she licks my arm and closes her eyes, thoroughly enjoying my touch. As with divine, I think this is the first time Joy has experienced human kindness.

I am deeply in love with all three of them and I have come to look forward to my time with them. To me, they are not just goats, they are heroes; they have overcome the absolute worst lives, worst experiences that could have ruined them. Yet they have found a way to forgive, to be courageous and welcome me in, to move on and except a new life. Their lives could have easily crushed them, body and spirit, but they have risen above it and let it go.  So, today their pasts no longer exist. They do not sit around and think about where they have come from and the torment they have gone through, they sit in gratitude and blessings. We have learned so much from them already, and they have only been here for a month!

These three heroes have taken their place in the barnyard, among our other ambassadors, to give love to the kids we work with, to be shrouded with good fortune, and to teach and inspire us all! Thank you to all of you who donated or sponsored for this rescue, we could not have done it without you! Our next hurdle is the birth of Joy’s twins and we hope that they are healthy. The road still looms in front of us, our work is not yet over, so please continue to donate, if you can or sponsor one of the goats if you haven’t already. Thank you!

Darling is a hair sheep, she looks like a goat, but she is actually a sheep with hair instead of wool. Darling was born a twin and was rejected by her mom, who chose to care  for the other baby only. The woman who had the sheep had just recovered from breast cancer surgery so she was in no shape to raise or bottle feed Darling. With no other place to go, Darling came to The Gentle Barn at 3 days old.

Because she was so tiny and delicate, we put Darling in one of our foster homes so she can have some time to grow up before living in our barnyard. So Darling is now living in an apartment! She sleeps in bed with her foster mom and is loved, fussed over, nurtured and adored all day long. Because they have been so devoted to her, Darling has so much to live for that she has grown big, healthy and strong. Her umbilical cord fell off, her teeth have grown in and she has learned to eat hay.

Using a foster home is wonderful and problematic at the same time: in a foster home Darling had time to gain confidence and strength, but she also bonded with her foster family. so we now have the task of making sure she does not suffer another abandonment in her life.  So the preparations for Darling’s transition to living her life at The Gentle Barn must be very carefully thought out.

The plan is that Darling comes to the barn every day for a couple of months to make freinds, bond with the other animals and make the barnyard her home. The foster family is willing to do this until she individuates by herself. By the time Darling is left at the barn, she will feel completely at home with the other animals. Darling’s  foster family will continue to visit her and will always be in her life.

So far the plan is working very well. Darling jumps like a gazelle, plays most of the day with our baby goat, Pixie, and is eating hay and drinking water like a big girl. She is bonding with the goat and sheep and becoming part of their family. we think that it wont be long for her to move in to our barnyard permanently, very soon! we are so excited to have her here!

This marks the end of our Peace Enhancement Program for last year, which runs September through June and is host to kids in foster homes, on probation, on drugs, in gangs and from the inner city. These kids have such hard lives and are constantly surrounded by concrete, violence, abandonment and noise. At The Gentle Barn the color, music, love and warmth was great for their souls and encouraged them to cultivate self awareness, build dreams and goals, find themselves among the animals, and reach for infinite possibilities.

Each year we work very hard to get our groups sponsored because the agencies cannot afford to pay to bring the kids. We already have many agencies on our waiting list hoping to come in September. It costs $4,000 for a group of kids to come to our program for the entire year. If you or your company or anyone you know can sponsor a group of kids to come to the barn to learn kindness, confidence and compassion, please call (661) 252-2440 or email us right away! We can’t do this wonderful work of saving animals and healing children without you!

We had a great group of children from south central Los Angeles this week. We took them on a nature hike and it was the first for most of the kids. We took them to the top of the mountain behind The Gentle Barn and they loved it! They admired flowers, found walking sticks, collected shiny rocks, and were smiling from ear to ear.

When we got to the top of the mountain we sat down to catch our breath and admire the panoramic view of the green, lush valley below. We pointed out to the kids that just three years prior there was a fire in our valley and everything as far as the eye can see was black, charred and burned to a crisp.  We explained to them that nature is resilient; nature always bounces back no matter how dead it looks. Grass always finds a way to grow through the concrete. Burned down trees grow green buds the next spring. And a field that was on fire bursts with colored flowers after the first rain.

I told the kids that our animals who have been terribly abused found peace at The Gentle Barn because they are resilient. When we have hard childhoods and we become successful anyway, we are resilient. When we are not doing well in school, but we try harder and get better grades, we are resilient. When the people around us are not doing the right thing, but we choose to do the right thing, we are resilient.

At our magic wishing well all the children got a rock and wrote, “I am resilient” on it and tossed it into the well. Those stones will never be removed. They will stay in the well ’til the end of time to be a reminder of the truth of those kids and to encourage them to overcome whatever they are going through, to be resilient and to reach for infinite possibilities.