Small Miracles at the Catskill Animal Sanctuary

By Karin Edmondson

Catskill Animal Sanctuary in Lake Katrine, New York appears deceptively serene on a sunny, brisk, early March Saturday. Seventy-two acres of land encompass a large pond, a stream that meanders from one end of the property to the other and ancient weeping willow trees that border a lane leading from the barn to the pastures. Fields and wooded hills lay beyond. Assorted animals—horses, cows, goats, sheep, a handful of chickens, two turkeys, a smattering of geese and one dog called Murphy (the Sanctuary's Director of Canine Pursuits) inhabit the landscape.



Inside the barn several cheerful volunteers rake out stalls and take extra special care to locate and remove every last trace of feces or unsuitable foreign material from the stalls. They chatter and laugh amongst themselves and are quick to welcome me to the farm. Walter, dapper in red checked flannel and a cap, offers to take me on a tour of the farm and introduce me to its assorted residents. He leads me to the first stall where a chestnut horse stands quite still—almost too still.



"This is Electra," begins Walter and as his tale unfolds, the seeming ordinariness of the farm and those animals who now call it home, vanishes. Electra, a former jumper, leans to one side as she stands. She is completely blind and suffers neurological damage from what vets describe as "severe head trauma." For months after her arrival, Electra was unapproachable and inconsolable. She kicked violently for no apparent reason, circled frantically in the paddock, and refused to allow other animals near her. Nothing helped until another horse, an ancient trail horse who was left behind in a barn by his former owners, arrived at the Sanctuary. Chester, self-possessed and non-threatening, "very much a sweet schlub" says Kathy Stevens, director of the Sanctuary, was unfazed at Electra's initial kicks. He just moved away, out of her reach. A few hours later, Electra and Chester were standing nose to nose and have been companions ever since. To compensate for Electra's blindness, a tiny copper bell was hung from Chester's neck and, in this manner, Electra can follow Chester around the pasture.



In the stall next to Electra's two eager goats, Jasper and Sydney, stand on hind legs to peer over the stall door. "They're on time-out" explains Walter with a grand smile, "They figured out how to get past the fences today."



Outside the barn, Walter points to a paddock to the left that holds goats, cows, and sheep. "That's Babe," he says and I look for a pig somewhere amidst the animals but soon realize that Babe is actually the huge Holstein steer that is licking the hand of another volunteer. Babe was saved from a short-lived existence where he would've been tied-up to prevent movement (and hence muscle formation) and force fed milk in order to eventually become a portion of veal on someone's dinner plate. Nearby are several goats, some of seventeen animals that had been living in a single filthy stall and were fed an occasional diet of moldy bagels. After they were seized by State Police, the animals—two cows, twelve sheep, and five goats—were so malnourished and dehydrated that many collapsed on the brief walk to the trailer that brought them to CAS. They recovered with love and painstaking care, and most have been adopted to loving local homes. "It's been heartening to learn that people out there really do want farm animals just to love them," farm manager, Joanna Rodriguez, comments.

Down another lane, Buddy and Dino relax in the early spring sun. Buddy, an Appaloosa, is one of four blind animals currently residing at CAS. (Another of the blind animals is a turkey named Chuck, who manages just fine with the aid of his seeing-eye turkey chum, Cliff.) Buddy's pal, Dino, is a Shetland pony and at 36, the Sanctuary's senior resident. Dino was the sole survivor of a Brooklyn arson—kicking the door to this stall down in a surge of adrenaline—and has since become Buddy's "eyes". Dino has permanent damage to his lungs and is blind in one eye.



"Buddy was 200 pounds underweight when he first arrived," says Kathy, "And his chest was scarred from barbed wire." His former owners had kept him in an asymmetrical barbed-wire fenced yard and didn't care enough to put food and water in the same place for the blind horse so that every time he'd search for food, he'd cut his face, neck and shoulders. Eventually he stopped eating—self-preservation. Dino and Buddy are now inseparable—so much so that a large window was cut between their stalls so they can touch noses at night. Since residing at CAS, Buddy has discovered in himself a love of going out on the trails. He compensates for his missing sight by listening closely and understanding Kathy's commands of "step up", "step down", "water", "stop" and "careful," and by responding to the gentle pull of a lead rope attached to his halter. The third horse in the paddock is Bobo—one of three horses who were locked for years in stalls that measured approximately only 144 square feet. Their stalls were never cleaned so that years' worth of manure and urine eventually formed a solid bed on which they stood day after day as the distance between floor and ceiling slowly closed in. When they were found, it took three trips to dig the packed manure out so the horses could leave their stalls. Kathy recounts how frightened Bobo in particular was. "She was way too frightened to leave her stall, and spent much time inside it shaking in fear at each new sound. She panicked at everything: the texture of grass under her feet, the sound of wind, a bird flying by or the noise of a distant car...." Not anymore. Today, after months of rehabilitation, she relaxes in the field as volunteers walk by, workmen pound on the nearby barn and even the occasional bird flies by.



These are but a few of the happy endings at Catskill Animal Sanctuary. The Sanctuary opened in 2001, and in that time has rescued 126 horses and farm animals, all from desperate situations. This spring CAS is busily preparing for forty-six more—horses, ponies, cows, goats, and sheep—from two extreme abuse cases that cannot be discussed because they're being litigated.



"We've seen three primary types of cruelty since beginning this work," Kathy comments. "The horrors of factory farming, intentional violence by individuals, and starvation. More people than I ever could have fathomed really do lock barn doors and allow their animals to starve to death. We've dealt with six cases involving hundreds of animals in this single harsh winter."



Despite numerous facilities that rescue smaller domestic animals, sanctuaries for larger farm animals are scarce. Of those, many are "marginal or worse." Kathy and her partner, co-founder Jesse Moore, toured the country visiting sanctuaries before setting up their own. She advises, "Do your homework before giving to an organization simply because it has an impressive Web site." The sanctuary's intent is to adopt and foster out as many animals as possible once the animals' psychological conditions and physical stresses have been treated. The adoption process is rigorous: adoptions are only permitted locally, and no single animal adoptions are allowed because farm animals are herd animals. CAS personally inspects the sites of prospective adopters. Veterinary references are required. Someone must always reside on premises. The contract allows for follow-up visits by CAS, and there is a stipulation that forbids the sale or exchange of any adopted animal. If someone's circumstances change and he can no longer care for an animal, then it is returned to the Sanctuary. Kathy urges potential adopters to think outside of the box: "Goats are very playful, affectionate and curious to boot. In personality, they are the closest to dogs than any other farm animal."

Catskill Animal Sanctuary employs just three people to feed individualized diets (to dozens of large animals), groom animals and nurture their emotional health, maintain pastures and fencing, clean stalls, and plan and run a new season of summer events. "We want as much of our budget as possible to go directly to the animals," Kathy explains. To fill in, they rely on over fifty dedicated volunteers, who assist with everything from fencing to folding newsletters to giving Saturday tours. "They need a much more important title than Volunteer," Kathy laughs. "‘Savior' or ‘Lifeblood' would work."



Volunteers notwithstanding, the endeavor is an extremely expensive one. The farm, purchased for CAS by something of a guardian angel in the guise of an anonymous supporter, requires miles of new fencing. The enormous barn and shelters all need new roofs, and new shelters must be built for incoming animals. Hay, grain and specialized supplements cost thousands each month, and veterinary bills are another huge expense.



On Sunday, April 27, 2003, at the Hudson Valley Mall in Kingston, a Radiothon kicks off the spring fundraising season, and CAS invites animal lovers and people of conscience to get involved in this "labor of love." Hosted by the legendary "Cousin Brucie" and WDST 100.1, Radio Woodstock—one of the few independent radio stations left the United States—the event will go from 11 am to 5 pm and will feature live entertainment, on-site celebrity liners and interviews, and spectacular on-air auctions.



The goal of the Radiothon is to raise $50,000 for CAS: "enough," Kathy explains, "to complete our fencing and shelter needs." WDST Vice President Phil Howart, a member of the Sanctuary's Advisory Board, urges the community to become involved. "It's such an important addition to this community," he says, commenting that he'd never been kissed by a cow until his first visit. "These animals are more like much-loved dogs," he explains. "They soak up the love and give it right back." He also commends the Sanctuary's educational program, which begins this spring and features children's programming and a dinner and film series. "We want to gently show people how we can all be part of the solution," he explains. "Mark your calendars," he reminds us: "Sunday, April 27: WDST, 100.1."



Local businesses are invited to sponsor the event in exchange for live and recorded promotions, appearance on WDST signage and advertising and more. Interested businesses should call 914 388 4984.



Sanctuary membership begins at just $30 for one year, and animal sponsorships are also available. Help doesn't always have to come in monetary form but can be made in actual donations—of time, building supplies and skilled labor.



"Everything about this place has required a tremendous leap of faith," Kathy comments. " The more people become involved, the more we can grow to become a place that over time, will save thousands of lives and heal thousands of wounded spirits—animal and human."



Catskill Animal Sanctuary is open to the public every Saturday from 11 am to 3 pm. Volunteers, new members, and animal sponsors are always needed and most welcome! For more information check out the website at www.casanctuary.org. Donations, which are fully tax-deductible, can be sent to Catskill Animal Sanctuary, P.O. Box 611, Lake Katrine, NY 12449.