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Road to sanctuary: Part 1
A series of articles about how the LFS came to be
Fall 2009
Dear Friends,
These images from auction houses are in public domain, and can be found at www.animalsvoice.com
I often get asked how the Lighthouse Farm Sanctuary came about. What is my background and why did I take up the “cause”? What led me? At a recent Let Live Foundation Series presentation (video taped and now posted on our website) the topic was Sanctuary Stories. There are so many stories in my lifetime, before and during; I began to recall those moments in my history that started me on the path. Many experiences I didn’t realized at the time made any difference; some I just grew up with as “that is just the way it is” and some things that were just expected of me. Some still disgust me to this day.
So, I am going to go way back and start with a bit of prologue, then maybe an introduction and then, maybe more stories and photos. I will warn you. Some of these stories will find offensive and some you not like. Maybe you will not like me or maybe will think I am a hero for enduring it all. So, here we go from the beginning…this is the first installment.
Everything Animal:
As a very young child living on a “backyard” farm in far northern California, we had cows, sheep and usually chickens. My entire family was involved with these animals in one way or another, with the children deeply involved with the local 4-H and later, for me, I was in FFA as well.
We would often go to farms, dairies and even auctions to see farm animals. I turned into such a junky, whenever I was at the feed store, I would collect those little animal pamphlets published by the feed manufacture companies and given away for free. I would collect them all and about all farm animals. Even get the new ones with just a picture change. I needed to have them all.
One year on vacation, I saw a shiny new auction yard off to the side of the road and I just had to see what was going on. Now, I supposed I should tell you that I was probably 5 years old at this time, but the need and the desire to learn about these animals was strong even at that age. Somehow, I managed to get my parents to stop and go into the auction. As it turned out, it was sale day.
I saw lots of cattle that day and I just knew they were going to nice little country farm to live out their lives, much like ours did. At that age, I didn’t have a clue where meat came from even though we did milk our cows and butcher their offspring. I just saw the white butcher paper packages later when mom was cooking dinner…no such thing as plastic wrap and Styrofoam packages.
I stared in delight at the sight of the black and white Holsteins, the tan and brown Guernsey’s and the big eyed brown with black points on the Jerseys. They were all amazing, beautiful and wonderful. I am sure there were others, but those were the ones we had at home, and what I remembered.
Instead of seeing the parade of cows going to the ring, being led to slaughter, I just saw magnificent cows. I didn’t know any better. That is, until the younger animals started to be brought into the ring. The younger heifers and steers…maybe a bull or two. Even then, it seemed ok. All of that changed when I saw the young calves being brought in. Some were so young or weak they could barely walk. Some were being drug in by their legs or an ear or whatever was handy to grab. That’s when we decided to leave.
As we were leaving, we exited through a different route out of the ring and somehow ended up in the auction yard itself where rows and rows of pens housing all the animals were. Off to the side, in a small cement floored pen, were the “drop” calves. Cows, in order to produce milk or lactate, are kept pregnant and give birth to usually a single calf each year. Many of these calves, especially, the young bull calves, are not wanted or needed. So, these calves are taken away from their screaming mothers and are not allowed to bond with their moms. Though the maternal extinct is strong for the cow, the calf is whisked away and not allowed to nurse or bond. These calves are just “dropped” or born hence the name “drop calves”. The calf can be raised by hand as a replacement heifer to go into the milking string later or the bull calves are butchered later and, yet, some may be housed in dark little barns and little crates fed a diet to keep them anemic and produce light colored meat otherwise known as “veal.” This I learned from those little booklets I picked up at the feed store…of course, I had to learn how to read first.
Anyway, much to my horror, I saw a pile of calves that I had presumed to be dead. Why? I don’t know and I didn’t ask. I just knew the sight saddened me. I have never cared for death, not that I am afraid of it. It just looks wrong and ugly. Yet, I couldn’t help but stare. When I did look at the 10 to 12 corpses all in a pile, something caught my attention. About half down the pile; one calf was blinking its eyes. It was still alive and no one was doing anything. Could it have been saved? Could something been done? Was it suffering? I don’t know. I was too young, but soon enough, after many, many more lessons, I was bound to find out.
< After voicing my objections, my parents ushered me to the car. I sat quietly vowing to learn more. Learn about tradition, convention, culture and the eventually the natural way of animals. Most importantly, learn how to make a difference.
There are many more stories to come. Some will make you laugh and some will make you cry, but this is my first experience and the one that started and hopefully, with your help, will end with a legacy at the Lighthouse Farm Sanctuary. More to come…
Thank you,
Wayne S. Geiger, President/Director
Note – Several years ago, I went to a local auction to try to document, with photography, what an auction would look like today. Unfortunately, I was discovered with my camera and told to put it away or leave. Cameras were not allowed! What were they afraid of?
