Yoshoda was a victim of the very darkest side of human nature that views these majestic, complex, angelic, sensitive animals as pieces of flesh. Look at her photos, read about who she was, and know that she was not a piece of flesh, she was not an object to be farmed and used. She was someone.
Photo: Agatha Kisiel
Eden was founded in 2008 to be a home for individual survivors of animal
agriculture who are rescued because they are being unjustly, albeit legally,
used as objects or resources for profit, and face premature death by
slaughter. In 2005, two of those individual animals were an hours old lamb
whose mother was dying, and an old sheep who had just lost her lambs. In
Hindu mythology Yoshoda is the foster mother of Krishna, so when someone
suggested those names we knew they were appropriate and beautiful for these
two animal people who had found their home with us.
I remember the day I arranged with the farmer to take the soon to be
orphaned lamb off his hands. As a throwaway he mentioned that he had a
‘strange old sheep’ who he intended slaughtering the previous year but when
she ran with the other sheep who were being scanned for pregnancy, he
discovered that she was carrying twins and, ‘milking’ the last cent from her
tired old body, he decided not to slaughter her. He said I could have her if
I wanted her. I did not need to be asked twice!
This gentle, quiet little soul whose voice was so soft you’d hardly hear
her, who needed respect, privacy, peace, and the gentlest of hands, had been
used, all her life as an object or resource, a means to earning a living.
Her unique personality and beautiful nature were invisible to the eyes of
someone whose only interest in her was the profit she conferred as a
breeding sheep by having lambs every year before being slaughtered. Goodness
knows the torment she may have gone through, giving birth to lambs who were
too large for her, trying to hold her own alongside sheep who were twice her
size, and being jostled and bruised by the rough handling that is standard
practice on farms.
When she came home to us, we had never seen a sheep like her and we were
awestruck by the ethereal quality of this little sick, malnourished mother,
who looked more like a deer than a sheep. We knew, even then, before we knew
her, that someone very special had come to live with us.
Photo: Agatha Kisiel
She was like a deer in nature too. She was elusive, flighty, nervous, and
hesitant. She could outrun anyone, and she was extremely shy. Whenever we
had to tend to the sheep for annual medication, foot care etc, just as
everyone headed into the shed, Yoshoda would suddenly decide she wasn’t
going in, and she would run so fast that no one had a chance of stopping
her. Then her mothering instinct would overcome her, and she would return to
make sure the rest of the sheep were OK, and easily enter the shed on her
own terms.
Over the years, we realised that her name could not have been more
appropriate. She proved herself to be a very capable minder of the other
sheep. Like her namesake, she was always watching out for the other animals.
She was always at the gate to welcome a new member of our animal family at
Eden, and she used to hang around until she knew they had settled
comfortably. If someone on the sanctuary was ill, Yoshoda would be drawn to
them, and spend her day grazing close by until they were well again. Her
mothering instinct was so strong; she must have been such a beautiful mother
to all the babies who were taken from her to be slaughtered for their flesh
over the long years of her life on the farm.
Last year Yoshoda lost almost all her sight. She had such beautiful eyes and we were sad for her that her world had darkened. But she had sufficient sight to be able to graze, interact with the others, and get to the shelter of her house when she needed to. We moved her to our highest priority special care field so that she could have extra food, attention, and easy access to shelter. This summer, at eighteen years of age, we moved her even closer to us, into our back garden which had a plentiful supply of the long green grass that she loved. For the last few months she was weak and prone to falling on her side, so she needed constant care. She became like any old person: when she lay down for a rest, she did not have the strength in her body to get up again. But once she got a helping hand, she was well able to carry on as normal, grazing and wandering around the garden.
We used to
check her every twenty minutes during the day, and every two hours
throughout the night. As a result, she allowed us to get close to her,
something that had not happened in the past. She must have associated human
proximity with fear and pain because for all the years she was with us, she
always chose to stand up and walk away from us when we approached. Even when
we were coming with a treat, it was her preference for us to leave it on the
ground and walk away before she would eat. But in old age, when she depended
so much on us, she had no option but to learn to trust. We are honoured and
glad that she was able to enjoy the love we gave her for these last few
months; that she trusted us enough to call us when she wanted something; to
nudge us to give her a treat; and to relax as we caressed her thin little
body to tell her how much we adored her.
The first weekend of July was cold, windy, and very wet. Yoshoda spent most
of her time in her house, standing at the door to grab the rays of sun in
between showers. She ate very well, finishing bowls of freshly cut grass,
ivy, grain, and her favourite treat of cabbage leaves. She even ventured out
on Sunday night to graze around the garden during a brief dry spell. On 6th
July she was weak and even though she still enjoyed her favourite cabbage
leaves, I noticed around midday how slowly she was eating. Not long
afterwards she lay down under the tree and I knew that I would never lift
her up again. I lay beside her for the last hour of her life so that she was
comforted and loved as she left this world.
Too few people are aware of the feelings of other animals. They fail to
recognise that they are someone’s mother, sister, friend, or child. They
refuse to recognise their right not to be owned, used, or killed. They do
not even see them as individuals; to most people they are just species who
exist for our use. Yoshoda was a victim of the very darkest side of human
nature that views these majestic, complex, angelic, sensitive animals as
pieces of flesh. Look at her photos, read about who she was, and know that
she was not a piece of flesh, she was not an object to be farmed and used.
She was someone; someone incredibly special who we were fortunate to have
known and loved. We will always cherish the time we had with her and miss
from our lives.
Also read Yoshoda and Krishna arrive at Eden
and Vegan Advocacy at Eden Farmed Animal Sanctuary.
Return to: Animal Stories