As I write this first entry of the Animal Messenger Sanctuary blog, I’m looking out my office window at the vultures circling the ravine in front of me and landing on their resting perch there. The sanctuary is high on a hill, so the vultures seen circling overhead from down in the valley are at eye level up here. They swoop and glide and circle all day long because the ravine is home base for them. Their favorite perch is the trunk of a felled eucalyptus tree that juts over the ravine. They land in a rush of wings and then perch in their classic hunched posture or stand with wings outstretched in the dramatic pose that carries whispers of their ancient past.
Last year, when I was considering moving the sanctuary to the Sierra foothills, I was working with Isis medicine. This Great Goddess of ancient Egypt had come to me in a vision, and though I knew who she was, I didn’t know much about her. In researching her after her visitation, I learned that vultures are one of her totems, and in fact she is often depicted with a vulture head and wings. The vulture has protective powers as well as carrying the medicine of love and compassion in the natural cycle of life. When I went up to look at a piece of property in the Nevada City area, a vulture flew above our car all the way down the drive as if leading me to this new place. It was a very special property, but I ultimately decided to stay in Sonoma County. The animals and I moved to the hilltop where I now sit. I discovered shortly after we moved in that this is vulture land, and it warmed my heart to see them, knowing that they and Isis are watching over us.
Right now, the sanctuary animals number only five because we are still looking for our permanent home and cannot take in any more animals until we find it. In March, we lost one of the founding Animal Messengers—Gabriel the donkey. After his death, Pegasus, the pure-white miniature horse who looks like a unicorn (sans horn), grieved deeply for her beloved companion. They had been inseparable and she was bereft without him. She mostly stayed in the shelter, even on beautiful sunny days. After a month of that, she began to venture out, but it took more time for her to get some of her former spark back.
I promised Gabriel before he died that when we find our home, I will, in his name, offer a lifelong home to two donkeys who need a safe haven. Equines need other equines (donkeys and horses are both in the equine family), just as all species prefer to live with at least one of their own kind. I believe Pegasus will only fully return to her elated self when she has a donkey friend again, but she is also attached to the four sheep she lives with, especially Wonder who she has known since he was a lamb (he is now 7 years old). Wonder’s mother, Charlotte, had a special relationship with Gabriel. She used to like to stand crossways under his chin and rub against his chest while he laid his head on her woolly back. Gabriel was the protector of all the sheep (llamas and donkeys are a deterrent to dogs and coyotes) and since his death the sheep don’t range as far from their shelter as they used to. Chloe (Charlotte’s aunt) and Isabel (who joined the others last year from a bad animal collector situation) lead the others on quick jaunts to grazing areas on the hilltop, but no longer roam to the lower fields.
I nursed Gabriel through complications of old age and grieved for the healthy donkey who used to run in sheer joy. Sanctuary life inevitably involves facing health problems, especially as the animals get older. Assistance in treating the various conditions comes to me from this world and beyond. I am extremely grateful that the sheep and I were able to solve their terrible hoof problems (that’s another story). Now Charlotte and I are focusing on healing what the vet tells me is the most common ailment among older sheep and goats. Charlotte is 10 years old (80 in human years) and has mastitis caused by a strain of staph resistant to antibiotics due to overuse of the drugs in the sheep and goat industry. The vet tells me staph mastitis kills the animal in 50% of the cases.
Charlotte has a strong will to live and she and I are very close, so I had a talk with her after the vet left this last time. She and I agreed we would go with the first option of progression: that her body will deal with the mastitis on its own, drying it up. She might be left with a hard udder from scar tissue, but what’s that compared to death? So Charlotte and I are focused on healing that mastitis; any prayers you care to add are most welcome. Along with prayers, I’m giving her various natural medicines to strengthen her immune system and whole body: aloe vera juice, mushroom extract (thank you, Paul Stamets!), vitamin C, echinacea, trace minerals. And an apple a day, because it doesn’t hurt to call upon all belief systems.
And then of course there are the vultures. They’ve left the perch in the ravine now, flying off I know not where, but their medicine is all around us, so I believe Charlotte is going to be among the 50% of sheep who survive. And if love really is the strongest healer of all, she will be with us for many more years.
Signing off to go round up the animals for their evening meal and give Charlotte a big hug. One of the wonders of life I have discovered on the sanctuary is hugging sheep. There’s nothing quite like clasping your arms around all that wool or burying your face in it, while the sheep gives your cheek butterfly kisses with her ears. And when the sheep are big Columbians like Charlotte and Chloe, it’s a woolly bear hug.
When I am hugging one of the sheep or watching them all eat their dinner or walking with Pegasus back up to the shelter for the night, I feel so blessed to have these Animal Messengers in my life. Every day they give me the message that life is precious and love and connection is what life is all about. Being with them, I remember to look up at the sky, listen to the birds singing, and feel the breeze on my skin. Being with them, I can’t forget that everything is connected. So I walk a little lighter, smile at the evening instead of rushing through “chores,” and thank the vultures for honoring us with their presence.