What's in a name - The Heart in Cloven Heart
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When we first met Symphony, we were attending our very first livestock auction. It was October 2017. We didn't know how to rescue. We didn't know who to rescue. It was our first very real challenge as a sanctuary, to find animals who needed help.
When Symphony walked into that auction ring, she pranced. If goats could strut like a model down a runway, it was what Symphony did. She was ethereal. She was also a hot mess. She was anorexic, bald patches of hair, wonky horns and still she was the most beautiful girl we'd ever seen. I'm crying as I tell this story because she's no longer with us on this earth. I love telling each rescue the story of when we first met. |
When we noticed no one was bidding on her and why her price was going down instead of up, the farmer next to us said it was because she was spent. That meant her body was worn, she was too old, and no-one was going to make any money off of her. Nobody wants a spent goat. Immediately, our auction card went up and she was ours for $25. Her whole life spent, destined from birth in servitude to making babies and making milk only at the end to be so broken in body and in spirit, unloved, and sent to be gawked at by strangers and judged on her worth to be used once again. That day would have been her last had she gone with someone else.
We didn't have a trailer and as Nubians go, she was large. We weren't prepared to take home a Nubian. We had to bring her in the back of the truck, binding her legs was a final insult to an already tired soul because we could only do what the farmers said, which to bind her legs and lay her on her side. We covered her to ease her fear and to keep the relentless Texas sun from hurting her. We drove slowly because our cargo was too precious.
Once arriving to the sanctuary, we carefully laid her on the ground and untied her. She wouldn't get up. She was defeated in every way. Her eyes vacant, her soul was done with stupid humans and how they used her. Including us in our attempt to save her. She wouldn't get up. We had to accept the fact that she might not live through the night.
We finally, with all our might, stood her up and guided her, wobbly, into a stall. I offered her hay and water and she just stared at me, asking me with her eyes what I wanted from her. I apologized. I told her how sorry I was that we had to bring her home the way we did. I told her I was sorry that she looked and obviously felt so bad. I told her that I was so sorry that she had been treated so badly that she looked so sad and so broken. I told her that I was sorry that her previous humans didn't care about her and let her get this bad. She continued to look at me, her eyes still slightly vacant. At least she was still standing.
I looked at her beautiful face and I told her with all the determination I had in my heart for her that if she'd let me, I promised to love her and to never treat her bad. I promised to keep her safe and to never let anyone hurt her ever again. I promised her, that if she'd give me the chance, I would make her happy every day and feed her the very best food and help her to feel better. I promised her, that if she'd trust me, I would always take care of her. Something in her eyes changed. Instead of looking through me, she looked at me, like she heard every promise I made. She took a few steps and began to eat hay.
I kept that promise to Symphony, named because she was walking music, complicated, beautiful, an elegant story. I would spend every day with her in the barn. She would scream bloody murder in that perfect Nubian way when she could see me. When she was stronger, we would take walks together outside to help build her confidence. She didn't seem like she understood that outside was something that existed. She went from running from the other rescues to becoming the matriarch of the herd. There were babies goats and sheep and she loved frolicking with them and playing every day. She truly learned to be happy again. She had grown back beautiful silky fur and even got a bit chunky. Symphony was healthy and happy.
I had kept my promise. Symphony lived at Cloven Heart for another 5 years. She got to die of old age. Just as every farmed animal should. Symphony is the HEART in Cloven Heart. Her nose was this beautiful heart shape. Her spirit was beautiful. Everything about Symphony was beautiful. Symphony is why rescue. Her life before Cloven Heart was no life. All animals deserve to be happy, loved, and safe. This is why Cloven Heart is a farmed animal sanctuary. Symphony showed us.
We didn't have a trailer and as Nubians go, she was large. We weren't prepared to take home a Nubian. We had to bring her in the back of the truck, binding her legs was a final insult to an already tired soul because we could only do what the farmers said, which to bind her legs and lay her on her side. We covered her to ease her fear and to keep the relentless Texas sun from hurting her. We drove slowly because our cargo was too precious.
Once arriving to the sanctuary, we carefully laid her on the ground and untied her. She wouldn't get up. She was defeated in every way. Her eyes vacant, her soul was done with stupid humans and how they used her. Including us in our attempt to save her. She wouldn't get up. We had to accept the fact that she might not live through the night.
We finally, with all our might, stood her up and guided her, wobbly, into a stall. I offered her hay and water and she just stared at me, asking me with her eyes what I wanted from her. I apologized. I told her how sorry I was that we had to bring her home the way we did. I told her I was sorry that she looked and obviously felt so bad. I told her that I was so sorry that she had been treated so badly that she looked so sad and so broken. I told her that I was sorry that her previous humans didn't care about her and let her get this bad. She continued to look at me, her eyes still slightly vacant. At least she was still standing.
I looked at her beautiful face and I told her with all the determination I had in my heart for her that if she'd let me, I promised to love her and to never treat her bad. I promised to keep her safe and to never let anyone hurt her ever again. I promised her, that if she'd give me the chance, I would make her happy every day and feed her the very best food and help her to feel better. I promised her, that if she'd trust me, I would always take care of her. Something in her eyes changed. Instead of looking through me, she looked at me, like she heard every promise I made. She took a few steps and began to eat hay.
I kept that promise to Symphony, named because she was walking music, complicated, beautiful, an elegant story. I would spend every day with her in the barn. She would scream bloody murder in that perfect Nubian way when she could see me. When she was stronger, we would take walks together outside to help build her confidence. She didn't seem like she understood that outside was something that existed. She went from running from the other rescues to becoming the matriarch of the herd. There were babies goats and sheep and she loved frolicking with them and playing every day. She truly learned to be happy again. She had grown back beautiful silky fur and even got a bit chunky. Symphony was healthy and happy.
I had kept my promise. Symphony lived at Cloven Heart for another 5 years. She got to die of old age. Just as every farmed animal should. Symphony is the HEART in Cloven Heart. Her nose was this beautiful heart shape. Her spirit was beautiful. Everything about Symphony was beautiful. Symphony is why rescue. Her life before Cloven Heart was no life. All animals deserve to be happy, loved, and safe. This is why Cloven Heart is a farmed animal sanctuary. Symphony showed us.
