|
 "From Goat Farmer to Sanctuary Founder"
By Cheri Ezell-Vandersluis (Co-Founder of
Maple Farm Sanctuary)
Published in SATYA Magazine in June 2007
Let me begin by stating I’ve always loved animals, but I grew up in
a society that treats them as possessions, as things—a
“meat and potatoes” world. I had no idea the flesh I
consumed came from wide-eyed cows and innocent fluffy
chickens. And while I knew I always wanted to work with
animals, it took time and several life lessons before I
found a job that truly benefited them.
My first growth spurt came when I was employed at a drug
manufacturer, as both a histology technician and—brace
yourself—autopsy room technician. I was told the
research benefited mankind and that the killing of test
animals was called “sacrificing.” In the logbooks where
we recorded autopsy room data, we didn’t kill anything,
we “sacrificed numbers.”
I remember early in my employment, walking to where the
dogs—sweet little beagles—were caged and routinely dosed
with compounds such as growth promotants, antibiotics,
dopamine and a multitude of others. I would talk with
them, reach through the cages to pet them, all the while
looking into their trusting, unknowing eyes. I did this
for only a few days before I was caught and reprimanded
for this behavior. I was told test animals were to have
no human contact other than dosing, examining, cleaning
and feeding since any expression of affection would
cause the animal to have a will to live and adversely
affect their reaction to the compounds they were given.
Well, I tried living with that justification for about
four years before I left. My life of discovery had
begun.
Swimming with Dolphins
My next job was at an aquarium. And while I found myself
amongst many who adored and cared for animals, we were
working for folks who lined their pockets with their
blood. My job description as “aquarist” included feeding
and monitoring the health of the thousands of fish and a
few marine mammals, monitoring the quality of the water,
helping the staff care for the marine mammals and
assisting with autopsies.
When the aquarium received four bottle-nosed dolphins, I
felt lucky to have the privilege of swimming with them
during their adjustment to captivity. Then a misjudgment
on management’s part ruined that vision. A satellite
pool, off the main pool, was divided into four sections,
similar to a rotating pie. The sections were used to
hold dolphins, as a form of punishment, for not properly
doing a trick for the paying public. While each section
was framed with metal piping, the fabric dividing the
areas was nylon netting. The trainers tried telling
management this was an accident waiting to happen but
the pleas fell on deaf ears.
Early one morning, I heard the high-pitched screams. We
may not speak their language, but anguish, sadness and
frustration are easily translatable. One of the male
dolphins had caught his nose in the netting and in
trying to free himself, actually twisted tighter,
trapping himself underwater. In the wild, if a dolphin
is sick or injured, the others come to his aid and push
him to the surface for air. In this captive setting, the
other dolphins could only watch as their companion
slowly drowned.
A fellow worker and I dove in with a knife hoping to cut
the netting but it had tightened so severely around the
dolphin’s nose we couldn’t get it off. We could only cut
the section free and bring the lifeless body to the
surface. Shortly thereafter, the dolphin was replaced
with another caught from the wild, the netting replaced
with metal chain link, and the show went on.
Spilled Goats’ Milk
I subsequently left the aquarium and spent a short time
as a graphic designer before deciding to become a goat
milk farmer. I actually met my husband, Jim, when
collecting goats for my business. He was selling his
dairy cows and getting ready to raise replacement
heifers. We became inseparable.
One day I entered the barn while he was milking and
noticed an obviously ill calf. When I questioned what
would happen to her, he told me regardless of the calf’s
illness she would be sent to a livestock dealer where
she would be sold for meat. At the time, I had some
money set aside and pleaded with him to let me take care
of the sick calf. He reluctantly agreed. I brought the
calf to Tufts’ veterinary clinic where the vet started
IV fluids and antibiotics and said that if left uncared
for another day she would have died. When she was well
enough I brought her back to the farm where she
eventually became a dairy cow.
In time, our consciences would not allow us to continue
milking our cows for the purpose of producing dairy
products. Instead, we increased the goat herd and began
to sell goat milk. The very unfortunate byproduct of
this was, “what to do with all the kids?”
In certain ethnic communities it’s tradition to have
baby goat meat during the Easter holiday. Those of
Portuguese and Greek descent, who knew of our farm,
would overwhelm us during this period. We would weigh
the 25-35 pound kids and the customers paid. They were
then hogtied and picked up like pieces of luggage and
literally thrown into the back of a trunk or pick-up
truck. These babies would look into my eyes with trust,
wonder and fear. Jim and I knew their fate. Having been
in the dairy business his whole life Jim had tried to
harden my emotions. We couldn’t possibly keep all the
kids, and not many people want goats as pets.
Many times Jim and I stood at the gate listening to our
baby goats cry as they were driven away. It was at one
of those horrific moments when Jim and I looked at each
other with tears in our eyes and began our journey to a
no-kill life. It was a frightening time for us because
the goat milk and the kids were part of our income in
supporting the farm.
We went on a quest to find someone to help change our
ways and help with the animals. We contacted PETA and I
spoke to a wonderful person who reassured me, in between
my sobbing, that we were doing the right thing. To ease
the financial burden we were given a list of farm
sanctuaries to call that could perhaps take some of the
goats. After several calls to sanctuaries with no room,
we found OohMahNee. Founders Cayce Mell and Jason Tracy
assured us that we were indeed doing the right thing. My
heart was aching. I loved my goats and having to send
them away was difficult even though I knew it would be a
safe place for them. After much thought, we sent half of
our herd to the OohMahNee and PIGs sanctuaries. It was a
day of mixed feelings but Cayce and Jason were my angels
and comforted us during this distressful time.
Today, Jim and I live a vegan lifestyle and have our own small
sanctuary in Massachusetts, Maple Farm Sanctuary. A safe
and loving refuge for farmed animals, they live the
remainder of their lives in peace, free to roam and
meander the land.
Cheri Ezell-Vandersluis is
co-founder of Maple Farm Sanctuary, located in Mendon,
Massachusetts. |
