Today three of my feathered family, Kerry, Mara and Jen are having procedures and Lucy, who was operated on last week for reproductive disease (caused by selective breeding and people’s greed for eggs) is having complications.

I feel hopeless.

The sun is shining. It’s such a beautiful day and I’m getting the girls the treatment they need. It should be a privilege to give them this care. And yet we are under such financial and emotional stress that it doesn’t seem possible to continue.

The fact is if this was a business it would not be viable and would have shut down a long time ago. There is no way someone with a small business would continue getting into debt and living without the basics most homes provide for this long. They would shut it down and get a job.

But I am stuck. This is not a business. NSW Hen Rescue is a charity and since 2010 we have liberated thousands of hens from cages and rescued so many more from horrible situations. It takes up all of my time. Our attempts to find local volunteers have so far been unsuccessful. I think the reason other rural sanctuaries find it so much easier is because they can offer volunteers a place to stay. We don’t have any space to offer and we don’t have essential services like electricity to most rooms.

With David away right now my work starts at 6am and finishes at 1am. So I truly can’t fit in paid work. Also how on earth would I live in a world with such cruelty without taking daily action to add some kindness to it? I’m not sure.

We’ve never had a fundraiser that’s reached our goal. Whether we were on or off social media platforms, whether we made a video that received a million views. Whether we posted daily on YouTube or held fundraising events, did sponsored events or raffles. Perhaps it’s just harder for people to feel concern for chickens, the ones deemed truly worthless by society and the ones I’ll see in plastic bags in Coles when I go to get the pigs their fruit in a minute.

Not you though. As a supporter you are one of the ones who get it. And that’s part of the problem. The same wonderful people who always donate must feel absolutely exhausted by me asking for donations. How draining! And yet you stay behind us, caring just as much as I do for those animals treated as products or rubbish by society.

But after the vets bills that will be paid today we will likely be out of funds. If you’ve donated recently, please know your donations have been put to great use. You may have seen our progress video I sent yesterday. I’m proud of that progress and that’s thanks to you. No money has been wasted and it’s made a true difference to the chickens whose enclosures are done and who are now back to enjoying their days. I’m also so grateful to the hen heroes and paid subscribers who allow us to buy feed and bedding without which I have no idea what we’d do.

But the fact remains the goal of the fundraiser was the minimum we needed, so now it seems impossible to reach it and with all the extra vet bills what do we do?

If there is truly no way to get on track, how on earth would we shut down a rescue? Well, a sanctuary.

I expect your mind may jump to: you need to rehome the animals. And I get that seems simple from the outside

Other than the fact we love every animal here, the animals we live with are mostly bonded to us or bonded to each other in complex groups. The ones who are not have human aggression that would not be tolerated by most or high needs that could not be met in most homes. Some of our family members have complex vet needs that would put an adopter into a similar financial situation as we are in, and of course they would all need predator protection to a very high standard.

The hens are mostly on implants to try to save them from their horrific breeding. These need to be renewed every 5 months. the roosters are bonded to the hens. Wren, our meat industry rescue spends every evening with us in the house, has a restricted diet with low calorie treats and loves a chin scratch. Not only that, but most of society is fine with eating the very animals we care for and finds it very strange we care for them at all.

We are essentially trapped. And still people keep telling us they will kill this rooster and that sick hen if we do not step in. I tried reactivating Facebook recently to try to connect with people who support us there. It didn’t work. The platform doesn’t allow us to reach our kind of people anymore. Instead we got a whole lot of trolls. So I stay off Facebook completely now. Any community group post is filled with animal abuse and roosters desperately in need of homes.

What would you do in this situation? I don’t think I could live with myself if I let these animals down. I’ve promised to care for them for life. But unless there’s a miracle I’m not sure how.

This isn’t a fundraising email. I’ll put a link to the campaign at the end incase you want to share it with someone you know but I don’t want to ask you to donate again. I only just sent you an email yesterday explaining the vet updates and the net progress. Four of you sent another donation which I am so grateful for. So many of you have already donated very generously and should not be expected to donate again. I don’t want you ending up in the same situation as me.

This email is just me explaining how bad things feel and that I don’t know what to do. Because it can all feel very lonely especially in an area where people view animal abuse as a human right.

Usually I try to look for things to be grateful for and keep my problem solving hat on. I know there is hope things can get better and I am so grateful for all your support but some days it is hard to stay positive.

Here’s that link incase you want to share it with anyone who is new to our work: https://chuffed.org/project/henhavencrisis

Love Catherine x

Founder of NSW Hen Rescue

Hello friends,

Gosh, it has been such a hectic seven days. Between thirteen sick feathered family members needing urgent care, and netting going up left, right and centre, it has been a little hard to keep up.

But I’m glad I finally have a chance to sit down, catch my breath and tell you about it.

Firstly, I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has already donated to our urgent netting campaign.

We had such an incredible start and reached 35 per cent of our goal. We have made huge progress with the enclosures, but still have so much to do and I’m worried we will have to stop the work soon when we run out of money for materials.

If you haven’t donated yet and are able to, I would be so grateful for your help. If you have already donated perhaps you could share the campaign with someone who may care. That would be an enormous help. I’ve included our progress video further down, but you can find the campaign here:

https://chuffed.org/project/henhavencrisis

Okay, now onto Emma’s story.

On Wednesday morning, our sweet little black hen couldn’t stand up.

David came to find me with Emma in his arms, just as I was loading carriers for yet another vet run. It has been one of those weeks where it feels like we are living at the vets.

I settled Emma on double blankets so there was less pressure on her legs, and put food and water right in front of her. She looked around with interest and started to eat. Phew. That gave me a bit of hope.

Emma was a mother hen who never met her chicks. She was liberated from an intensive parent farm that produces eggs to be incubated for the backyard hen industry. A lot of her female babies will be living in people’s gardens right now whilst all her male chicks will have been killed. People don’t tend to think of backyard hens as part of factory farming, but their mothers are confined in huge sheds, bred to produce hundreds of eggs and sent to slaughter once they pass their so-called use-by date.

The vet was fully booked, so the lovely nurse, Keira, saw Emma. Sudden difficulty walking can be caused by reproductive disease, with inflammation, congealed eggs or a mass pressing against the nerves involved in moving her legs. Keira gave Emma an implant in the hope that we could get ahead of it, and I brought her home with an appointment for the next morning.

By then, the brightness had gone from her face. She had a fever and she wasn’t eating. The vet examined her so gently, but I could see Emma was uncomfortable. We started antibiotics and pain relief and agreed that, if there was no improvement within twenty-four hours, we would let her go.

I brought her home and settled her back on her blankets. When I checked on her a couple of hours later, she had passed away. She was in the same position, with her head just dropped down, and she looked like she had gone gently.

I stroked her and told her I was so sorry that humans had failed her. We had liberated her from that disgusting shed, where hens came out with balls of faeces caked around their toes and hardened like concrete. But we could not liberate her from the selective breeding that greedy humans had inflicted on her.

Emma was the second hen from that same parent farm we lost this week.

Two days earlier, I had found Lacey sitting alone in her coop and not coming out. She was a beautiful, deep-brown hen, and her face had that look that tells you they are terribly unwell.

There was no space at the vet that day. I brought Lacey inside, gave her fluids under the skin and made her as comfortable as I could. That evening, while I was feeding the pigs, she had a fit and died. David was in the kitchen with her. He rested a hand on her and spoke soothingly, but didn’t pick her up for fear of making her feel worse.

When Lacey first arrived here, she was one of the girls whose toes were encased in hardened faeces. I soaked them in warm, bubbly water for hours to free them. Within a couple of months she had developed reproductive disease, but implants and veterinary care bought her another two and a half years of a really good life with her friends.

What humans have bred into their bodies

Emma and Lacey were two of thirteen of our loved ones who became sick this week. Twelve went to the vets, several more than once, and the bills came to around $10,600.

The diagnoses were not all the same, but again and again they led back to selective breeding.

A hen like Lacey has been bred to lay up to 350 eggs a year, while the wild jungle fowl she descends from lays somewhere between 12 and 30. From that comes the stress and pain of laying, egg yolk peritonitis, reproductive cancers and masses that press against everything packed into a small body.

We can liberate a tiny number of hens from the horrible places where they are abused. Liberating them from what humans have bred into their bodies is so much harder.

The rest of our little hospital ward

Six appointments were for suprelorin implants intended to prevent further reproductive disease. Connie the ex-battery hen, needed hers replaced before it wore off. So did Cookie, our beautiful frizzle Polish girl. You may remember a few months ago, her abdomen was chock-full of horrible, rancid, congealed omelette. Her warm body had essentially cooked the escaped egg yolks and it almost killed her. We must never let her lay again which is why her implants will be done every 4.5 months.

Maura, a sweet little white hen who chats to me in meow-like sounds, needed hers because laying causes her such distress. Mary and Kitty, two curious ex-battery hens who preen my trousers while I sit on the grass, received their first implants after laying soft eggs. Peeka, a surrendered hen with a messy bottom lately, went in for one too. Her best friend Lucy went with her.

Lucy had received an implant a couple of months ago, but her abdomen had become swollen and her breathing was laboured whenever she sat down.

When the vets operated, they removed a mass the size of a mango and drained around half a litre of fluid. Her weight went from 2.5kg before surgery to 1.8kg after.

The vets were amazed she did so well under the anaesthetic and made it through such a big op. I honestly thought she might die that night, so when they rang the next day to say she was perching and bright, I was so relieved.

She is home now on pain relief and antibiotics, in a quiet area with Peeka where they can chat to the roosters but nobody can bother them. She is scratching about and enjoying her days, coming inside at night, although she is a bit off balance. I think she was previously compensating for that mass so now it is gone, she has to learn how to walk all over again.

Prince is a handsome rooster we recently rescued after he was dumped. A while ago I told you how he was on my radar but we simply had nowhere for him. Well, thanks to your donations I was finally able to rescue him and I will tell you more about him in a future story. He went to the vets for something quite different. There was an infection smell coming from somewhere, although he looked perfectly healthy. The vets eventually found it hidden within the folds of his rose comb. He only has that comb because humans bred him to look a certain way. It is less effective at releasing heat and rather good at trapping dirt. How silly are humans to breed him that way? Every day I clean the folds with saline and a cotton bud and he is doing well.

Esme the duck began our week with another procedure on the bumblefoot she was surrendered with years ago. By the time she got to us, the infection had spread into the bone. She is one of our residents who needs constant meds and about twice yearly procedures. This time the vets could work under local anaesthetic, which was far less taxing on her body. She is doing well and is back with Echo, her duck husband. Her story deserves a whole letter of its own, and I will write it soon.

Pamela is one of our older ladies whose appointment became more complicated than we had hoped.

Pamela has lovely colours and was surrendered to us a good few years ago. She is one of the very few hens I have seen lose her appetite as a side effect of the implant, but perhaps it was something else all along. For more than six months, she has come inside every evening for a supplementary crop feed and a warm place to sleep.

Each day I feel her crop to see whether she needs the extra feed. About a week ago, I felt something fleshy in there.

The vet thought it might be something she had swallowed. I hoped they were right, because that would have been the simple version. But when they opened her crop, they found a hard lump about the size of a large marble, along with smaller lesions that looked like more of the same. They have sent it to the lab.

It looked nasty to me, and I don’t have a good feeling about it. I have seen reproductive cancer spread through a hen’s body before, and I can’t help wondering whether that is what we are seeing again. We won’t know until the results come back. If it is cancer and she recovers well from this surgery, she will stay in her own area with her friend Jen, crop-fed and warm at night, for as long as she is enjoying life.

Three results we are waiting for

We are waiting for results from Lucy’s mass and Pamela’s lump, along with Esme’s culture. She has needed antibiotics for so long that we must keep checking whether they still work. We have changed them several times already, and I am quite fearful of the day when we can no longer find one that works. My fear is even greater due to her incredible bond with Echo. I can’t imagine what he will do when she is no longer here.

I talk about suprelorin implants a lot because they are wonderful. They stop hens laying eggs, buy time, improve lives and have saved hens here. Lacey got another two and a half good years because of hers. But Emma had an implant. So did Lucy. They can buy precious time, but they cannot undo generations of selective breeding.

All we can do is give each bird as much good time as we possibly can.

This is what rescue so often looks like for farmed animals whose bodies humans have reshaped through selective breeding. It is also a very sad reflection of the way humans see chickens, use them and throw them away.

And while all that was happening...

We have also been working flat out on the urgent netting project to protect everyone here from birds of prey.

Thanks to an incredible start from you, the best supporters in the whole world, our urgent campaign has reached around 35 per cent of our $40,000 goal. But donations have now almost completely stalled, just as this week’s $10,600 in veterinary bills has drained our funds further.

The good news is that your donations are already making a real difference. You can see our progress below, and since I filmed the video we have finished another two enclosures. Yay!

It was the best feeling ever, yesterday, when Peter the rooster and his girlfriends got their enclosure back and made the most of it perching, flapping, dust bathing and generally having a ball. All the other chickens here deserve that too and if we can reach our goal we can give it to them, and get back to the important business of liberating animals.

You can donate here: https://chuffed.org/project/henhavencrisis

If you would like to help with our ongoing feed and vet bill costs, you can become a paid subscriber here (if you are not already):

And if you care for hens and have never heard of Suprelorin implants, please do ask your vet about them. All a vet needs to do is order them in, rub a little numbing cream on the skin and implant with a needle under the skin. Just like a microchip. Oh and ask them to add a little glue to hold it in place so it doesn’t fall out. If you already have girls on implants, I would love to hear how they are getting on.

Until next week I am sending you Esme and Echo’s happy duck splashes, Prince the rooster’s most flamboyant dance and the soft clucks of Lucy settling back beside her best friend Peeka,

Love Catherine x
Founder of NSW Hen Rescue
https://henrescue.org

I haven’t written in a few weeks.

The truth is, the hen haven has been in crisis and it has been a challenge for everyone; the animals, David and me.

I have been wondering how to write to you about it all and have tried a few times and failed. I wrote a draft on my birthday, 3rd July, which was a day that did not go as planned, but I never sent it.

And yet there have been beautiful glimmers throughout this time. Daily cuddles with Max the bunny, noticing a heart in Plum’s feathers the other day, Ginger zoomies and Lola making me laugh, digging into my trousers.

But a lot of the time things have felt less like a Hen Haven and more like a horror movie.

The biggest issue and the reason I am writing to you today is the birds of prey. We went from seeing wedge tails in the sky a couple of times a months, to having them circling daily, goshawks jumping on enclosures and a large barking owl hunting well outside nighttime hours.

We went from deterrents, such as holographic tape, digital radios blaring and boat horns blasting to having no choice but to keep everyone in coops unless they are under close supervision or in a safe, netted area.

We had a very near miss. A hen being hunted by the barking owl in full daylight. That was the end of relying on deterrents.

Most chickens do not survive bird of prey attacks. Princess Lola came to us last year. She was found by a member of the public with horrific wounds to her back, clearly from a bird of prey.

She was only a young hen. To this day, I cannot believe she survived. A lot of that is a testament to Director Isy, who pretty much dedicated her life to Lola for months with vet trips to SASH at least weekly, daily bandage changes and intensive wound care. And of course the amazing surgery and vet care from SASH.

I sat with Lola yesterday. She has such a huge personality. She is not happy about being kept in the coop. Well, of course not! She is very vocal and as soon as I sit on the ground during free range time she chats away, digging at my trousers, pecking me and kicking dirt all over me. Haha. It is her way of showing love.

Despite moments of hopelessness and my bloomin’ depression arcing up, I am a problem solver and I know things will get back on track and be a hen haven once more. Here is what we are doing:

1. Reinforced all netted enclosures to ensure they are extra bird of prey proof. For the pigeons and a few disabled, elderly or young birds nothing has changed. They are safe and enjoy their days as they used to.

2. Everyone else has to stay in coops for now. When I do their food and water and have to physically (gently) push them back into the coop, it is heartbreaking.

3. Closely supervised free range time whenever possible. David and I take different sections. There isn’t much time when we aren’t actively doing animal care, but we aim for at least 2 hours a day where different groups can enjoy their day. I have been combining this with working on netting. Unfortunately there isn’t a way to supervise the whole property at once with the two of us. So not everyone gets out every day.

4. A poster up at the vets looking for volunteers to help supervise more animals out of coops and also to help with the netting. No luck yet but fingers crossed. I will be putting up more posters this week.

5. Small, netted, temporary puppy pen enclosures to give dust bath time.

6. Ordered as much strong, wildlife safe netting as we could afford and got started. 3 big enclosures are newly netted and those birds are having a grand old time.

7. Paid our handyman Tye to do extra hours to get nets up faster.

8. Some fights have occurred within rooster groups and we have had to separate some boys and alternate them in areas to dust bathe and then in coops.

9. New enclosures planned for the groups that used to totally free range whilst continuing supervised free range time and deterrents.

10. And now this… a huge fundraiser to somehow gather funds to net all the remaining enclosures. These enclosures were never built as cages. They were built to eventually be planted up as small gardens and that is still what we want.

So my question for you is can you help us get back on track and survive this crisis?

We cannot take in a single other chicken. We cannot do a battery hen liberation. We cannot save anyone else until we have solved this.

So I have launched a fundraising campaign.

Donate to the Netting Fund

Chuffed is a great fundraising platform for charities. The only thing is when you donate, Chuffed will ask if you’d like to add an optional tip. That tip goes to Chuffed, not to the hens, and it is completely fine to set it to zero.

If you would rather donate via bank transfer that would also be incredible. The only thing is you won’t get an instant receipt. So please do email me so I can say thank you and give you a tax receipt. Here are the details:

Bank:Westpac

Account name: NSW Hen Rescue

Account number: 520192

BSB: 032-289

Historically, we have never come near our fundraising targets. I am always in awe of sanctuaries that regularly hit their $80,000+ 6 monthly targets through crowd funders. I am so happy for them and yet… how?!?

We have roughly worked out how much netting and the new enclosures will cost, including extra work from handyman Tye. If we were to do this alone or wait to find our volunteers the process would take years around the animal care.

We are looking for items cheaper on Facebook marketplace (isn’t that just a cesspit of animal abuse?! Don’t get me started!) but for speed I have had to order the first lots retail and it needs to be strong stuff, not light fruit netting. Our estimated cost is $35,000.

I know!

I have also added $5000 to this fundraiser to cover our upcoming vet bills. Big surgeries I will go into at a later date and another 5 suprelorin implants in August. If we manage to find secondhand materials cheaper then more of the funds will go towards vet bills, which would be a huge weight off my shoulders.

David and I have put our savings into this emergency already and there is nothing left if we are to cover the animal feed of approx $600 each week. At the moment, without rain, we have the additional cost of $365 for water delivery every other week.

I know the fundraiser amount seems huge. It is! And that is part of the reason why some days have felt so hopeless. Things are usually pretty tight even without this.

But little donations do add up. They really do. It all makes a difference.

Since 2010, when we started NSW Hen Rescue, I have made a promise to every animal who has come here. As I lifted Amelie from the battery cage, as I felt the relief of finally catching Toby the rooster from next to the motorway, and with every other animal I have held them to me and whispered or thought very hard, “You are safe now. And you always will be.”

I don’t feel like I am living up to that promise right now and I really hope with your help I will be able to again.

Give the hens their days back

If you can spare anything at all, I would be so grateful. I write every donation on my daily gratitude list because it gives me that glimmer of hope that keeps me going when a resident gets ill, or the electricity stops working or when the septic tank leaks from some unfindable pipe or when my mental health just says, nup, no dopamine for you today.

The same goes for our regular donor hen heroes and substack paid subscribers (can you believe we have 29 now?!) I am always so grateful you choose to support this work.

If you cannot donate or have already donated recently, please don’t feel pressured. Perhaps you would be willing to share the campaign instead? Everything helps.

Here is the link to share, plus you will see me in a short video, find out how we’ve done with the netting so far and witness how cheeky Lola is: https://chuffed.org/project/henhavencrisis

I am writing the draft of this email at 4am. I couldn’t sleep and I set all 42 roosters off when I got up so I thought, ah well, let me stop putting this off and write to the people who care.

So let me leave you with something more positive. Glimmers of happiness and hope from our closely supervised free range time. I will chat about the photos in the audio of this email.

Thank you for being by our side at this time. Hopefully soon we will go back to being a true hen haven.

Love Catherine x

https://chuffed.org/project/henhavencrisis

Hello Friends,

I don’t know what’s been in the air lately, but a lot of the boys have been fighting. Honestly! Why is it always the bloomin’ boys that cause trouble?

Roosters who were the best of friends are suddenly at odds, and the male ducks have started chasing the hens. I’d have expected all this in spring, not the middle of winter. We’ve had to throw up a couple of emergency enclosures just to keep the peace, because once two roosters have had a real fight, it’s terribly hard to come back from.

Speaking of roosters…

A week ago, I received a phone call.

The woman on the phone was standing behind the vets in South Grafton, holding a small rooster. Her dogs had cornered him and she’d only just scooped him up in time. She’d gone straight in to ask the vets to look after him, and they’d said no.

The neighbour was no help either, saying he wasn’t theirs and that they’d only started hearing crowing the day before.

It seems someone had dumped this little boy by the vets, the way people dump kittens there all the time. The difference being that the vets sometimes take the kittens in. They won’t take a rooster.

The woman then tried Happy Paws, our local dog and cat shelter, who also said no, and it was the owner of Happy Paws who passed on my number.

When I heard the whole story, and that he was only fifteen minutes away, what could I say?

Yes, we are over capacity, but the other option was to leave him there in a backstreet of town, where he was sure to be attacked. I had to say bring him here.

When I took him from her, I was pleased to see that his injuries from the dogs were not too bad, just a few superficial scrapes on his comb. He doesn’t seem too frightened of people, and he has such character in his little face.

We’ve named him Little John.

The only way to make space for him was to borrow a coop from two of our other boys, Shane and Gary. I closed him in there for the day while the two of them pottered about outside, and at night I brought him into the house in a carrier so the boys could have their coop back to sleep in.

But even a sweet, little rooster can upend things just by being there.

Shane and Gary were dumped together in Grafton near Mcdonalds and have looked out for each other ever since. They are truly the best of friends, and within a day of being neighbours with Little John they’d fallen out with each other, bickering and sulking.

I knew a proper fight was around the corner and I will not risk a friendship like theirs, so Little John had to move. I’m relieved to say the two of them are very nearly back to their old selves.

Little John got a quick and slightly dodgy enclosure of his own, with one of the lovely tall perches we’ve built from collected sticks and logs to make it less boring. It won’t be his permanent place, but at least it is safe for now. He is one of the smallest roosters we have, and yet he has claimed the biggest perch and sits like a little lord surveying his estate.

Little John is still carried inside at night, since I’ve no coop for him and can’t afford one just now. But he’s safe, he’s fed, he has a steady stream of passing chickens to supervise, and he seems content.

That same weekend I heard about another dumped boy in Iluka, a little beachside town about an hour north of us. It only has around 1,700 residents, yet Iluka seems to be a popular site for dumping roosters. I don’t know whether it’s one person or many, but it is cruel and out of control.

I’ll be writing to Clarence Valley Council, which covers both Grafton and Iluka, to ask for an in-person meeting about putting up signs that make it clear dumping animals is illegal and a finable offence. From past experience an email alone gets ignored or gets a template response saying to contact the RSPCA, so I’m hoping that sitting across a desk from someone might do more.

Even the steadiest friendships haven’t been spared the odd mood that has fallen over the boys of The Hen Haven. Fraser and Jasper, usually besties, have fallen out, and I can’t just pop one of them down the back, because these two like to be near the house.

Fraser has to inspect absolutely everything new we bring here and Jasper has to supervise me at all times. I’ve had to resort to keeping one inside and one out, swapping them over halfway through the day. They don’t make it easy.

And now the news I think many of you were bracing for after the last newsletter.

Our dear elderly ex-battery hen, Gretel, passed away on the 18th of June.

I think it was the right decision. She could no longer digest her food which meant I couldn’t even help her through crop feeding. I guess one of the tumours had blocked her digestive system further down. She had grown so very tired. What I wanted for her was a peaceful goodbye. The difficulty was that our regular vet, who has always given such gentle, peaceful goodbyes, is travelling the world at the moment, and I felt anxious all day knowing it would be someone else.

That morning I gave Gretel the only thing she would still eat, an egg, set aside just for her. She’d sit on her heat pad taking a few bites, fall asleep, wake and take a few more, and drift off again.

I’d rung the vets, but the call back never came, so when I had to drive into Grafton for an appointment of my own, I took her with me on her heat pad rather than leave her. When I reached the clinic they apologised, saying they had been busy with other animals, and a small voice in my head thought, well, Gretel matters too. They agreed to see her at 4.20pm.

That left a couple of hours, not worth driving home for, so we sat by the river together and watched the water. By the time the appointment came I was so nervous, and even once we were inside there was another hour’s wait as they caught up with the backlog of other appointments.

I think it was the right decision, but it wasn’t as peaceful as I’d hoped for.

After the initial anesthetic, Gretel kept lifting her head and looking about instead of drifting off. I sat with her for half an hour, stroking her face, and she leaned into my hand. When the vet finally gave the drug, I held her through her last breaths. I’d been holding it together until then, but when it was clear it was not simply falling asleep as it would be for many dogs or cats, I started sobbing, wondering in those last minutes whether I’d made the right choice at all, and wishing more than anything that our own vet had been there to make it gentler.

And then her suffering was over, and I felt the relief of that and a great wave of sadness, both at once.

Some weeks ago, someone had commented here on Substack that if I chose euthanasia for Gretel, that would be an act of human supremacy and it would be where my kindness ends. I didn’t believe that and know how chickens can hang on and keep suffering horribly in their last weeks, but those words started to flash through my mind in those last moments.

The vet herself was kind, and the staff were kind. But there was a casualness about the surgery as a whole that I don’t believe would have been there for a dog or a cat euthanasia. No candle was lit at the reception desk the way it is for other animals.

As Gretel was passing it was right near closing time, staff were gathering their things and calling out to each other about trivia night, off to the pub. Someone let out a jolly call of ‘trivia!’ into the room I was in just at the moment Gretel was passing. I wanted so badly to tell them to please, just shut up.

I didn’t. I just held her and thought again, well, Gretel matters too.

The next day I buried her, and soon I’ll plant a tree in her memory.

Gretel came to us in 2020, liberated from a battery cage, where she’d had a broken wing. I’d been nursing her more intensively since her liver tumour diagnosis in March 2023. The tumour stemmed from reproductive cancer, the kind caused by being bred to lay far too many eggs.

I’d always loved Gretel, but for those last three years we grew very close. She was an independent lady, never one to demand attention, but she loved it when I sat near her while she went about her chicken business, and now and then she’d come and settle by my legs.

She was a bossy boots. She made sure I never forgot to hand feed her, her share of the greens when the rabbits ate of an evening. I loved her spirit and her beautiful, glossy feathers. I’m so glad I had that time with her, and so sorry she was ever bred into a body that was made to let her down, even after she was free of the cage.

There’s a huge hole here at Hen Haven now that Gretel is gone. But life at the Hen Haven doesn't stop, and the others still need me to look after them, or they need to boss me about, or a mixture of the two.

This morning I scattered corn for Jasper in the house (it was his time inside whilst Fraser was enjoying the front garden) mostly to distract him from his non-stop crowing, because he is one of the loudest crowers we have. And he refused to touch a single piece.

Instead he made those beautiful little cooing, come-and-look noises, look what I’ve found, look at all these treats, while I tried to get on with sorting the other animals. He would not eat one bit until I came over, picked up a few pieces myself, pretended to eat them, and set them back down on the counter. Only then, did he tuck in.

He’s outside the window watching me as I write this, like a little stalker.

A Big Dream

The rooster dumped in Iluka is still out there. I had to tell the woman who found him that I couldn’t take him in. There is literally nowhere to put him. She donated $200 into my account and told me to use it for materials for his enclosure. I felt so guilty, because it isn’t enough to build one, which means I still can’t take him and I must sort out an enclosure for the others waiting first.

I told her I would give it back so she could give it to a sanctuary that could help. But she couldn’t find anyone else. So there he stays. If I do nothing, he may well be killed by a predator. The only positive is that he is roosting up trees which will hopefully keep him safe at night, and she’s kindly feeding and watering him for now.

Sometimes I think about what I would do if I were rich. Even if we bought the properties either side of us, it still wouldn’t be enough for all the roosters in need. You’d have to be so rich you could buy a whole street’s worth of rural properties. Sometimes I let myself dream about that, a whole street of paddocks with large, garden-like enclosures for roosters to live in, nobody complaining about the crowing, someone in every home who loves them.

Maybe one day. Stranger things have happened.

Until that day comes, I’d be so grateful for any help to build another enclosure. We’re nearly at the end of the financial year, and I am sending a huge thank you to everyone who has donated.

Every donation or paid subscriber makes me feel I can keep doing this.

You can donate here: https://henrescue.org/donate

Or become a paid subscriber below.

Subscribe now

Thank you, as always, for being here, for caring about these little ones most of the world has decided don’t count. I hope you’re having the most wonderful week.

Love,

Catherine x

Hello friends,

In a week of ups and downs, let’s start with the most fabulous news.

Last week twenty beautiful hens were liberated from an intensive ‘free range’ farm.

In this farm they couldn’t get outside or find any real space from the rest of the flock. They couldn’t settle into a pecking order, and all that awaited them was slaughter.

The rescue team did an amazing job.

Nineteen girls are settling into their forever homes beautifully.

They now live with trusted people who are part of the animal rights movement.

Their days will be filled with sunshine (hopefully), dust baths and a sense of peace.

One darling girl was simply too sick.

She was found lying on the dirty floor, and she spent her final hours cushioned on blankets, warm, safe and surrounded by people who cared about her.

In those final few hours she didn’t have the strength to open her eyes, but I hope she felt safe. I wish she could have lived, but after everything she’d been through, I’m grateful she knew kindness from her carer before she died.

Three of the girls are sick.

Odette had a bad eye that had completely ruptured. This isn’t that unusual in packed barns where hens often peck each other.

Imagine the pain she must have been in. Today her carer took her for surgery to remove the eye. The poor girl has a lot of swelling but she will be feeling better soon.

Nell has severe bumblefoot and again, she must have been in intense pain for some time. She will be into the vets on Thursday for a debridement surgery.

And then there is dear Marsali, who has a very sore leg and isn’t feeling the best. Her forever carer has a vet appointment for her tomorrow, and she is currently on pain relief and enjoying the warmth of being inside at night.

It is a lot to process. One of the rescue team summed things up very well when she said:

‘I am bloody fuming. Out of all the girls we rescued, one has already passed away, and 2 others are, according to the vet, in excruciating pain. We only walked about 10 paces, if that. I can’t imagine what other horrors were hiding further in that disgusting shed.’

Whilst every life saved is so very worth it, it is always a horrible feeling to leave so many behind. Especially when you know that, whilst it is horrible, the farm is meeting Australian egg farming standards. Yes it’s cruel, but it is not illegal.

What a world.

Ginger’s great escape

Rescue never seems to allow us just one emotion at a time. We can be taking a moment to process the state of hens saved from a hell hole, and then be bursting out laughing because someone is causing absolute chaos.

This week that someone was Ginger the pig.

I noticed her with a big stick by the fence of her paddock, which is next to the front garden. She loves collecting sticks, flowers and leaves for her nest. But she was there for a while. I went back to pottering around inside, doing the endless blanket washing.

When David got home from the shops, Ginger was there to greet him as usual. But not by her paddock fence, by the front garden gate.

She was worn out by that point and ready for a belly rub. From the piggy footprints in the mud, she’d clearly been galloping around the front garden, splashing in the duck pools and raiding the garage for a good hour. Having an absolute ball!

Upon closer inspection, she had used the stick to snap off each cable tie that connected the fence to the fence wire, one by one, and then pushed underneath. I was a little exasperated, but also very impressed.

After her belly rub she followed us back into her paddock looking very proud indeed, and proceeded to get more cuddles.

This is life at a rescue, I guess. I never know what emotion is around the corner. One minute I’m so overwhelmed I’m bawling my eyes out whilst distributing the feed and water, and the next I’m giggling at Ginger’s antics.

The goshawks

And then the roosters start sounding the alarm, because a danger is present.

We’ve lived at our permanent forever home, The Hen Haven, for almost three years, and until recently I’d never seen a brown goshawk on the property. But over the last two weeks a pair has visited almost every day from about 12.30pm to 4pm.

The roosters spot them first. Forty-two roosters aren’t the greatest when you’re having an anxious moment or have a headache, but they do make an effective security system.

An alarm call goes up, and even if it’s only a small sound, David and I are attuned to their calls and we’re outside scanning the sky in a shot, reaching for the boat horn. If we’re out there without the horn we start barking, whooping and clapping our hands. The chickens aren’t scared of our shouts anymore. I think they know we’re protecting them. The neighbours, on the other hand…

All our pigeons, young, elderly or disabled chickens are under wire reinforced, netted enclosures. We haven’t had any casualties, but it only takes one time and one time is too many.

I don’t have the tens of thousands of dollars required to net the whole property, so I am focusing on deterrents and protection. I’m ordering as much net as I can and working out where it’s possible to net first. I also checked the entire pigeon enclosure and reinforced it.

I stood on guard at the weekend whilst David went out to buy some battery operated radios and holographic reflective ribbons. None of these are guarantees, but there are plenty of stories of them helping, and I have to say the hawks haven’t been by in the last few days since we installed them.

I wouldn’t say it makes the sanctuary the most relaxing place, with talk radio blaring and silver holographic tape making it look like a tacky Santa’s grotto, but it is having an effect. My main aim is to stop the pair building a nest here, because of course once they have babies I can’t scare them away safely without risking the little ones.

Researching how to keep hawks away has been its own kind of upsetting. On the backyard chicken pages (the ones that aren’t rescues), you see upsetting comments again and again. There are the people who don’t really mind when they have a predator attack, who shrug and say they’ll just get a few more hens next time, as though the girls are stock to be topped up.

And there are the people who reach for a gun and laugh about not telling anyone when they use it on the hawks, or who make jokes about chicken dinners. I find it so hard to read.

I will not allow any of my animal family to be hurt, and I will never harm the hawk.

I love seeing wild animals living free lives. I think goshawks are magnificent. I just wish they would stay away from the Hen Haven.

The other day, as I approached the hawk clapping my hands and saying, ‘Go away, you,’ I saw him staring through the net at a wild pigeon who had taken refuge inside one of our netted rooster enclosures. I found myself desperately willing the pigeon to stay hidden. When the hawk flew away, I felt relieved. Then I felt a moment of concern for the hawk feeling hungry. That pretty much sums up my relationship with nature. It all makes me deeply sad. Yes, it is full of beauty, but is is also full of suffering.

Oh I know I’m being a misery guts.

I know the goshawk isn’t weighing up ethical arguments before she hunts. Our resident barking owl isn’t wondering about the sweet bond between the mother rat and her teenage babies who leap and play in the feed shed. They are simply doing what they evolved to do. But I don’t have to like it. If there is some kind of designer of the universe they may be clever, but they are also very cruel.

I’m glad that as humans we don’t have to go along with the cruelty. Whatever our nature may be, we have the ability to reflect on it. To ask the moral questions. To choose compassion even when it costs us something. That is exactly why I have never found 'it's natural' a convincing reason to eat animals. All sorts of things are natural, including some of the most beautiful things and some of the most horrific. What matters to me is not what we are capable of doing, but what we choose to do.

In moments of overwhelm such as when dealing with the hawks, or financial worry I often wish the sanctuary was so much smaller. At the same time, I am glad every animal who is here was saved and I truly adore them all.

I guess my own regrets are part of why I’m so passionate about the microsanctuary movement. If someone asked my advice on starting a sanctuary right now, I would say start tiny, and stay as small as you can.

Make sure you can budget for all the animals, including emergencies, without help. Donations will be a wonderful support, but you won’t have a panic attack if they don’t come.

Tiny Sanctuary, Big Impact Melbourne Tickets Available!

And so I can now announce that tickets for our next Tiny Sanctuary, Big Impact workshop are on sale. Woohoo!

We’re coming to Melbourne!

I think it’s going to be our best workshop yet, so please do book a ticket if you can make it, or tell your Melbourne friends who might be interested.

https://www.trybooking.com/DNCKC

I’m not sure we’ll be able to sell tickets without Facebook and Instagtam, but let’s see.

If you’d like to help, you could share the event on your own socials with the image above (or any image you prefer) and the link. I would be so grateful. My mental health hasn’t been great lately, and I’ve been doing a lot of work to help it, but I know Facebook and Insta tend to make it a lot worse, so I’m putting that off as long as possible.

Randy’s recovery

Last week I told you about gorgeous rooster Randy, who had an awful sour crop and choking incident. I was ready to rush him to the vet.

Well, in an almost unheard of scenario, he recovered on his own. After the immediate blockage was clear, we brought him inside and by the time the vet appointment came, the smell disappeared. Now he is back to his bright self, eating and pooping normally. Yay! If only all medical issues could be solved so easily.

An update on Gretel

Many of you have been following Gretel’s story for some time now. Our 8.5 year old ex-battery hen, who was rescued with a broken wing.

After months of nursing her through heart disease and reproductive issues, I think we are near the end. I never make these decisions lightly. Like a very elderly person, she is prone to secondary issues now.

When I gently open her beak for her meds it causes slight bruising. And now she seems unable to digest her food.

I noticed yesterday morning, when I went to crop feed her, that her crop was still full and a bit hard. I just crop fed some water. That evening it was still full. And this morning it was clear no more food had gone through. This means her digestive system is shutting down.

She really enjoyed her egg this morning and she ate a few torn up greens too, but she isn’t interested in other food, and I don’t want to put too much into her crop when she can’t process it. She is mostly sleeping, although she did enjoy the sun today.

Whilst it may sound like she could pass naturally soon (and she might), I have heard too many times of hens whose bodies make them suffer for weeks. I don’t want that ending for Gretel. If her food goes down, or if there is a change, I will change my decision, but I think tomorrow is the day we say goodbye.

So, as I said, a week of big ups and big downs.

Any donations or paid subscriptions would be so gratefully received at this time, as we face vet bills and the cost of extra netting to keep everyone safe.

Subscribe now

With the end of the financial year almost here, now is a meaningful time to give if you are able. And a huge thank you to those of you who already support. https://henrescue.org/donate

Until next week, sending you bunny binkies, piggy honks and a gentle preening from a rescued hen,

Love Catherine x

Hello friends,

Oh my goodness, I’ve just had the scariest time. I heard the roosters kicking up a racket and rushed straight out. The noise on its own isn’t unusual. Roosters are world-class tattle tales and nosey neighbours, forever sounding the alarm, and often it’s nothing more dramatic than some crows trying to sneak off with some eggs. But I always rush out, because occasionally something is wrong.

I scanned the field. No signs of danger.

Then I spotted Randy, our little white rooster, having a chat with Quinn through the fence. Randy is one of the eight boys dumped at a scenic spot. You may remember director Isy and I found the boys back in October last year when we were trying to have a relaxing swim and some time out (no such luck).

As I watched Randy just now, he spluttered, coughed, and then let out an almighty honk, his neck twisting with the effort, as though something was stuck.

I scooped him up and noticed the horrible smell. Sour crop. But his crop wasn’t squishy, and when I opened his beak nothing looked wrong beyond a small coughed-up piece of grass. David held him while I checked his throat again with a torch. Nothing.

I settled Randy in a carrier with a little water, and over the next fifteen minutes the coughing got worse, bad enough that I was frantically googling emergency vets. Which is a real problem here, because there are no emergency vets within a couple of hours drive.

As the honking ramped up and I began to feel a little panicked, David had a brainwave, and suggested using the crop-feeding tube to dislodge whatever was stuck. So while David held Randy, I carefully lowered the tube down into his crop.

I drew it out, Randy coughed once more, and then he took a breath. A normal breath, thank goodness. What a relief that the emergency was over!

The problem, however, is not over. The honking has stopped but the smell hasn’t, and I worry there’s a ball of grass or some other impaction blocking his crop. Of course today is a public holiday and the vets are shut, so I’ll be on the phone first thing tomorrow begging for a spot. They’ve warned me they’re booked solid this week, so fingers crossed for our boy.

If you’ve noticed the newsletters and posts drying up lately, you probably won’t be surprised that I’m just barely keeping up.

The animal care routine is under control (just), but everything else is pulling me in fifteen directions at once, and now and then the overwhelm gets the better of me.

Our lovely Dr Courtney, who treats all our feathered family, has gone off to travel the world. She’s not an avian vet, but she takes the time to learn and research, and she’s so kind to the birds, so we had to try and cram in every recheck and procedure before she left. Nine appointments and procedures in five days. Eek.

At least the sun has been out lately. That makes everyone happier, especially those recovering from illness.

Plenty of the animals adore the winter sun. The pigs especially. They’re blissfully stretched out in the field, no sunburn, no overheating to worry about.

It makes me think of Sharron, one of our directors, who was by my side when I founded the hen rescue back in 2010. She has always loved the winter sun. Maybe she’s a pig at heart? That might be the biggest compliment I could give.

The other morning Max the bunny hopped up to me on the bed. His ears were so cold to the touch. I burritoed him up in a blanket and fully expected him to wriggle away, but he stayed happily wrapped against me for a good half hour before I finally had to get up and face the day.

This winter sun is a huge comfort for one of our girls in particular. You know our lovely old lady ex-battery hen, Gretel? She’s now been diagnosed with heart disease.

So our mission, more than ever, is to make every one of her days a happy one, and the sun is a big part of that. After all the heavy rain that kept her cooped up inside, she absolutely flourishes in the sunshine.

Gretel has a hens-only netted enclosure now, so she needn’t worry about any bolshy roosters, and we’ve halved it with a puppy pen so she can still see the other girls; Amelie with her sore legs, and Kel, who is firmly off boys at the moment. Our three teenage hens, Sage, Plum and Marigold, were also meant to be on that side, but they were having absolutely none of it. Hopping back and forth over the pen is apparently the best game going.

It seems their youthful energy does Gretel good. She enjoys their company right up until one of them pinches a treat she had her eye on, and then she tells the young whippersnappers off.

Gretel’s care routine is quite the production now. She’s crop fed with her usual Avian Crittacare mix plus probiotics, turmeric and black pepper, mashed banana and ground flax.

I rub coconut oil into her legs, where the circulation is poor and the scales have started to flake. There’s a cream for her dried out comb, eye drops, and her heart meds, then some unsalted corn and torn greens on top to peck at.

Every night and morning we reheat her snuggle safe heat pad so she can even choose to sit on it when she’s outside if she likes.

We take each day as it comes, because any one of them could be her last. It’s not just the heart disease but all the secondary troubles that pile on when an old body is struggling.

Please wish plenty of sunshine for our Gretel.

Gretel isn’t the only one on an extensive care plan. Our beautiful baby Wren isn’t a baby anymore. You may remember he’s a meat-industry survivor, and the cuddliest baby rooster I ever did know.

That is part of what hurts now, because as a big adult boy he isn’t really comfortable being cuddled. He’s still our loving Wren, but he’s at war with his own breeding. His hormones are raging and so is his appetite. Sometimes he comes over and pecks us really hard on the leg or toes, and then looks mortified. He can’t help it.

I feel sad and angry in equal measure. Wren’s bottomless hunger is a reminder of the cruelty of the meat industry. Have you ever been on a diet? That gnawing ache you can’t stop thinking about, not for a single moment? That’s how he feels, all the time.

He actually seems to have a bigger appetite than any other cornish cross breed that we’ve rescued from the meat industry. Could they be breeding them to have even bigger appetites? Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.

So we walk a tightrope of restricting his food enough to protect his longevity and mobility, but not so much that he’s driven mad with hunger.

He’s on a pullet grower mash. ‘Grower’ is misleading, but it’s lower in protein than some while still high enough to maintain that big body, and crucially it’s low in the calcium that would wreck his kidneys down the line. I weigh out his day’s food each morning, then soak each portion as I go which roughly doubles the size and helps with another problem: inhaling food.

Wren is so food-focused he’ll gulp it down fast enough to send some down his airway, and soaking makes that less likely. I’ve even popped large pebbles in his water bowl to stop him gulping that too.

He has his own enclosure beside the girls now. He’s simply too big, and if he mounted one of them he could do real damage. He still comes inside with us at night though, but we do not eat in front of him because that seems to trigger his hunger badly.

I’ve been busy in the kitchen lately feeling like a vegan witch with my herbs and potions, making an enormous mess. Wren’s Blend is a treat bite I’m working on to help with his breeding troubles, aimed at supporting his mobility, weight, heart and mood. I’m introducing one ingredient at a time to be sure each agrees with him.

I’m also working on a Gentleman’s Blend for any teenage rooster who decides to take his hormonal frustrations out on me (Koda I’m talking to you Mr Pecks a Lot!)

Also in Catherine’s kitchen, I’ve been mixing up my attempt at a herbal rat contraceptive. Coconut oil, peanut butter and a little vanilla disguise the herbal taste and make it palatable for them. I can’t promise it works yet, but it passes the palatability test, because they’re certainly eating it and will be handy for humane trapping and releasing too.

Tiny Sanctuary Workshop in Melbourne! Yaaay!

Isy and I have started work on our Melbourne Tiny Sanctuary, Big Impact workshop, and we have a date and a venue!

Saturday 19th September 2026, 10am - 4pm, at the Community Hub at The Docks.

That’s about all the detail I have for now, but here’s the exciting part, as well as Isy and me being our usual fabulous selves, Nicole from Rosie’s Hospice of Compassion will be presenting in person and answering all our burning questions. If you’ve been to one of our workshops you’ll know we never shut up about her wonderful work, so imagine getting to see her for yourself.

More info, and tickets, coming soon.

I had been fretting about leaving David with all the animals, given how intense the care is right now, but I’ve arranged to pay someone to help for a few days, so I’m free to go and present (and eat lots of vegan food).

Unfortunately it hasn’t been all happy times.

In the last couple of weeks our sweet ex-parent-farm girl Janice passed away from reproductive cancer, our beautiful ex-battery hen named Diane passed from egg-related illness and our darling old bantam lady Thelma had a stroke and passed away shortly after I had rushed her inside.

All the girls were happy here at the hen haven and Thelma did enjoy a long life, but Janice and Diane should have had so much longer.

Sometimes we go months and months with no deaths and other times three come in a couple of weeks.

With all the vet bills, new enclosures for the roosters who are growing up and needing more space, and ongoing medications, money is scarily tight here right now. The costs add up faster than the donations come in. If only we could care for these animals on love alone.

If you’re in a position to help, now is a really good moment. With the end of the financial year less than a month away, you'll be able to claim it back soon. A small one-off gift, a few dollars a month, or becoming a paid subscriber on substack makes a real difference.

You can donate here: https://henrescue.org/donate

or to the following bank account:

Bank: Westpac

Account name: NSW Hen Rescue

Account number: 520192

BSB: 032-289

Or simply tap below to become a paid subscriber.

Subscribe now

And on that note, Izzy (Yes we have both Isy and Izzy on the team) and I will be heads-down sorting tax receipts for all our wonderful hen heroes. If you need yours in a hurry, just let me know, otherwise we’ll get them all out as soon as we can.

I hope you’re having a wonderful week and as always if you have supported lately a huge, giant thank you.

Love, Catherine x

Ginger and Mr T were the first rats I had ever met. I was amazed by how sociable they were. How they adored each other. Ginger was the boss. Mr T was her faithful husband. I assumed they’d be rehomed in no time, so I was shocked when the manager said Ginger would be killed. She had a small lump that was either a tumour or a pregnancy, and either way that was a capital punishment offence at this shelter. I was only a month into my probation and technically not allowed to adopt. I took them home anyway.

From there, more rats found their way to me. Rats who had been returned to pet shops when they were no longer cute babies, or rats who were rescued from becoming snake food.

One small white rat, Summer, used to sit on my shoulder and groom my hair. Another rat, Fable, was a very talented thief, dashing out to snatch coins from our coin jar and ferry them back to her nest in her mouth, hopping like a little kangaroo. I learned I could clicker train them. I learned they loved tummy tickles. I learned how fiercely they bonded.

Then came my first little mouse, Edward. A girl of about eight knocked on my door one day, thrust a small cage into my hands and said, “My Dad told me to give you this.” Inside was a tan and white mouse with a limp. Edward loved gentle pats on the head so much he would choose them over food.

So perhaps it doesn’t surprise you that I am now asking people to have compassion for rodents. Perhaps you’re nodding along, thinking yes, of course all pets deserve care. How shocking that anyone is cruel to them.

But wild rats?

Well yes.

I believe domestic rodents deserve kindness, but so do their wild cousins.

If you are in Australia you have probably seen recent reports of “mouse plagues” in farming communities and the government giving urgent permission to use deadly zinc phosphide to protect crops. It can kill rodents, but also pets, wildlife, farmed animals and humans. It also does a number on the environment when it gets into waterways. There’s no antidote. What a fab idea to drop this poison all over crops (eyeroll).

Of course rodents are living in plague numbers on farms. Are we really surprised? Unlimited food. Vast monocultures of grain grown to feed the animals humans will then slaughter.

What baffles me is why so much money goes into poison that causes painful death over days, rather than contraceptives or repelling technologies. Rodent contraceptives exist. They are being used successfully in parts of the US.

But the majority of people who live alongside a rodent population use poison, snap traps or glue traps.

Did you know glue traps are illegal to use in NSW, but perfectly legal to buy? Isn’t that so silly? When I found them stacked in a local dollar shop and politely explained to the staff they were no longer legal to use, the manager turned nasty as did another customer. People get very angry when you try to speak up for animals they believe are unworthy.

Meanwhile, the company in Australia who has the license for one of the US contraceptives, Evolve, hasn’t replied to any of my emails about it. Even if they did, it targets male rats. And as Karen Dawn pointed out in her recent article about a hippo cull, animal contraceptives that only target male fertility are a losing battle from the start. As she puts it: spay nine out of ten females and you’ll get one litter that season. Neuter nine out of ten males and you’ll get ten litters and one very proud papa.

In a world where we can never ensure that every animal receives the contraceptive, we must target the females to bring populations down.

That’s the big picture. But the same blind spot shows up in our own homes.

Some people already choose to avoid poisons due to the danger of secondary poisoning. Birds of prey, goannas, dogs and cats can die if they eat an animal who has been poisoned.

But I want to argue a less popular point. The rodents themselves are worthy of life. They deserve respect and compassion. They deserve not to suffer horribly and not to have their lives cut short for the crime of existing.

Our plumber once told me that if we ever wanted to “get rid of” the rats, we shouldn’t use RatX, Ratsak naturals or vitamin D3 poisons. It made the rats so unbearably thirsty as they were dying that they would chew through copper pipes to reach water. Can you imagine the suffering? And yet this stuff is stacked to the rafters at Bunnings and the supermarket, sold like sweets.

We do have a rat problem here at the hen haven. Not with the individual rats. They are funny to watch. They hop and play. Some of them even take my homemade herbal contraceptive bait straight from my hand. The problem is the group as a whole. Rats love to chew. Sometimes not even to get through something, just because it feels good to grind down their teeth.

The disease panic in Australia is wildly overblown (we have never had a human case of hantavirus here). And even in countries where rodent-borne disease is a real concern, the answer is the same as for any other wild animal we share space with: prevention and hygiene, not killing. I’ll cover the practical side in the next piece.

The fire risk from chewed wiring, however, is real. And still, I won’t reach for poison or snap traps, no matter how stretched I feel. I’m tackling the problem, just not by killing. There’s a kinder way, and we’ll cover it in parts two and three.

I’m often surprised at how alone I am in this position. Even people who already extend compassion to other animals seem to draw the line at rodents. On a recent r/Australianvegans thread, someone had asked for a kind solution for the rats in her roof. She was worried if she used a sonic repeller that the mother rat would abandon her babies.

One commenter,u/whibkins, who claimed to be a Buddhist who avoided causing harm, wrote, “I put poison traps down, which the mice or rats take back to the nest - eradicating them all.”

Another, u/Lanky-principle-8407, wrote, “When I thought we had rats I just paid an exterminator. I do so much for animals in other parts of my life.”

But the rats in u/Lanky-principle-8407’s roof are no less deserving of compassion than the animals they help elsewhere.

About a year ago I found two baby rats on the floor of my van. They were cold to the touch, lying about a metre apart in pools of condensation, eyes still closed. I later learned that mother rats sometimes scatter their babies when they sense a threat.

I warmed them in my hands and then near a snuggle safe heat pad until they began to wriggle. When they were warm, I started hand-feeding them every two hours, day and night. David would hold them after each feed and give them tiny massages. They grew up loving tummy tickles.

Did you know rats giggle? They let out a high pitched chirp, boggle their eyes and vibrate when they are happy.

We named the babies Molly Marshmallow and Lizzy Licorice and they are grown rat ladies now, with a wild streak and a deep love of each other. I see that same closeness in the wild rats in our feed shed, who sit bundled in tight family groups, the teenagers still following their mum closely.

The world where we casually scatter poison, or set a snap trap on a mother whose babies will then starve in the nest, needs to be changed for the better. People will say there are more important things to think about. But if we cannot be kind at this level, to the smallest and most vulnerable, I’m not sure we can really claim to be kind at all.

They are not a faceless infestation. They are somebody.

This is part one of a short series. Next up, how to prevent rodents in the home and around the sanctuary in the first place. And then the big one I am working through and experimenting with right now, how to deal with an existing infestation kindly, without any harm or killing. I will share with you the special trap we developed that enables us to separate lactating females to return to their nests, the results of my kind relocation in which I increase their survival chances with shelter, water and food, and my rodent contraceptive trials here at the sanctuary.

Is this something you have ever thought about before? I would love to hear.

Love Catherine x

P.S The regular scoop from the coop newsletter will be out soon. It has been such a busy vet time lately so there is lots to update you on.

Hello friends,

I’m sorry I haven’t emailed recently. There was plenty to share, but my husband, David, came down with a nasty case of Norovirus which knocked him for six.

For the last week David felt awful, had a fever and of course couldn’t help with the animals at all. So I ordered David into bed with Max the bunny as his nurse and I set to work getting all the chores done, including looking after the 15 animals we currently have on medications. What with caring for all the animals and caring for David I wasn’t getting to bed until 1am.

That’s the thing with running an animal rescue. It doesn’t matter what dramas come up in life, the animal care show must go on. And whilst I quite enjoyed feeling like a vet nurse as I applied cream to Kel’s comb for fowl pox, crop fed Gretel our elderly ex-battery hen and gave medications to Tess and Ginny the polish hens, there just wasn’t time for anything else, including writing a newsletter.

You know I have come to rely on sharing the news here as a way to deal with the world and to find people who care as much as I do so it has felt odd not sending an update these last couple of weeks.

David is feeling so much better now, thank goodness. So I finally had a chance to sit down and write to you this morning… Well that was the original plan, until I heard about a young rooster in Iluka, about an hour north of us, who needed help.

If you’ve been following along for a while, you know we are closed to new intakes for now until we get our finances in a better place and all our current residents in suitable enclosures. This is an important decision, but really hard to stick to.

It feels wrong not to be actively rescuing, but at the same time this break is essential to ensure we can keep rescuing long into the future.

Despite most of our contact channels being down, a kind woman named Gabby, who had been feeding this young rooster managed to get my number and contact me by phone and as soon as I saw a photo of him I knew I had to help.

This rooster, who I named George, had been dumped about three months ago and Gabby happened upon him whilst walking her dogs in the bush. She has been feeding him ever since. I hate to think what would’ve happened to him if she hadn’t cared. Apparently he was still quite small when he was first abandoned. I am amazed he has survived given the beautiful rainforest is full of goannas and other predators.

There was a small shack nearby built and occasionally inhabited by human teenagers. It served as their getaway from the adults where they could smoke and drink to their hearts content. Whilst it was covered in litter and hardly what you want to happen upon in the bush, the noise and busyness may have helped keep wild predators at bay.

I know some may think that because George has survived the last three months, he can survive the rest of his life as a rainforest rooster, but I don’t think so. We know from vast experience that things can go wrong very quickly. As I often say, an abandoned rooster may survive, but they will never thrive. And even surviving is not that easy.

It only takes one day, one dog or one goanna.

Gabby was so grateful I had come to rescue George. When I thanked her for caring for him, she said she did care, but that she wasn’t like me. She didn’t feel particularly attached to George but she wanted to do right by him. To me, that makes perfect sense. You don’t have to feel attached to an animal to do the right thing by them. You don’t have to love or even like animals to decide not to hurt them and to agree that they deserve to live a life free from harm.

And so we lugged my puppy pens through the bush and I set them up with some bird netting over the top and Gabby sprinkled some food inside. We heard George’s soft clucks before we saw him. Gabby spoke gently to him as she had done so many times before. And after patiently waiting for him to take cautious steps I closed the puppy pen doors behind him.

There was a slight struggle as I picked him up that made me happy the puppy pen was there as he tried to dodge me. But as I picked him up and kissed him on his handsome head, I told him he could relax now. He would be safe.

George has a very cool hair do and a bald neck. I think he may be a naked neck chicken which is a breed I have never rescued before. It was such a relief to place him in his carrier and in the car, safe and sound. I gave Gabby a hug and thanked her for caring.

By the time we were home, it was almost time to start getting the animals to bed. I wondered about skipping this newsletter again, but I think it is important to share how hectic things can be. So with everyone tucked up for the night and before I start the medicines, I decided I would write to you and show you our handsome George. He is quite scared of me and alarmed by the bunnies and CJ the rainbow lorikeet, but tomorrow I will sit with him quietly and give him a chance to take in his new surroundings.

I won’t blab on too much. But I must tell you briefly that my good friend Sarah spent a couple of days here last week. It was such a joy to see her after 3 years! And it was like we had never been apart. We spent a full day working in Baby and Aunty Nome’s enclosure.

If you ever wonder what to do with a friend, I highly recommend sprucing up a chicken enclosure together. A chance to get your body moving, get your hands in the soil and chat away in the company of animals. What could be better?

The enclosure went from a barren, boring grass patch to a fabulous adventure garden. The photos don’t do it justice just yet as all the plants have to be protected from the chickens who have a side hustle as part time plant excavators. But I can see the potential and it makes me so happy. I will share photos of it with you soon.

I can’t wait to rescue some more ex-battery hens to live in this garden with Baby and Aunty Nomes. That is my goal for as soon as we are financially stable.

Speaking of finances, we have had more vet bills with ex-parent farm hens Kel and Madge at the vets for reproductive issues. I wonder how many people who have bought backyard hens know that the parents of those birds are usually from factory farms?

Both girls are suffering the consequences of being selectively bred to lay too many eggs. I know I sound like a broken record, but it is the truth that this is the main health issue for hens and the main expense of running a hen rescue.

Apart from weight loss, one of Kel’s symptoms was that she decided she really doesn’t want to be around other chickens right now. I kept finding her perched in really high up places like precariously perched on a star picket. She was telling me very clearly that she was totally over the other chickens. So she has been living in the house with us. She doesn’t seem to mind being around humans. Hopefully her new suprelorin implant will help her feel more at ease soon.

In happy news we have been approved for a grant to run our Tiny Sanctuary, Big Impact workshop in Melbourne!!! We haven’t set a date yet, but it will probably be around September/October. Keep an eye on the newsletter if you are interested in starting your own microsanctuary.

I really hope to see some of you there and find out about your animal rescue plans.

Thank you for standing by me and the animals when things get hectic.

I hope you all have a brilliant week ahead filled with fun, happiness and compassion.

Love Catherine x

P.S We have had a couple of very kind donations this week. If that was you, a great big thank you!!! Tax receipts will be sent out soon.

This morning Gretel did a great, big hop in the sun and flapped her wings as if she were about to take off. Five minutes earlier she had been barely awake in my arms, breathing slow, tired breaths. I had just crop fed her some avian crittercare to help her keep weight on, applied soothing cream to her dried out comb and kissed her feathery little head. Then I carried her outside, set her down on the grass, and as the sun hit her it seemed to fill her with a boost of joyful energy.

The first time I held Gretel in my arms was when I lifted her from a battery cage in early 2020. I guess she was about a year and a half old. She had a broken wing. Breaks were common at that farm. The hens were so calcium-deficient that bones snapped easily with the rough handling of the workers or perhaps a fight with another suffering hen. After rescue Gretel received vet treatment and a snazzy bandage. Before long, you couldn’t tell anything had ever been wrong.

She is eight now. It’s rare we get someone who reaches six and a half years free. It feels like a small miracle.

In 2023 Gretel was diagnosed with an inoperable tumour that had started in the reproductive system. No surprises there. These girls are selectively bred to lay way more eggs than their bodies can handle. She had already been to the vet to receive meds, but a day came soon after when she stood hunched with her eyes closed. Her feathers all fluffed up. She looked so sick and unhappy. When I called the vet they said there wasn’t much else we could do and recommended we euthanise her. He was kind about it, and at the time I agreed. She had no quality of life, as far as I could see.

But when I lifted her onto the table at the vets she perked up a little. Her eyes became wider and she looked around. She started pecking at the stethoscope. I changed my mind right there in the appointment. I decided to give her another day, or however long she told me with her behaviour she still wanted. It turned out to be years.

Nearly all laying hens in all systems (battery, barn, free range) never get to this point. They are slaughtered at around eighteen months when their productivity starts to decline. The tiny amount of hens who are rescued usually face reproductive disease, cancers and laying complications well before what we’d call old age in any other context. If we are able to help them get to four or five years, we have helped them get to their version of old age.

Like all farmed animals, these beautiful individuals weren’t bred to live, they were bred to be used, abused and then to be killed before the body collapsed. Although it’s worth noting that many hens die during those first 18 months. That is viewed as acceptable loss and part of the business model.

Every elderly ex-farmed animal who has by some miracle ended up in a sanctuary is an individual who was never supposed to be here according to those who bred them. Their old age is something the industry never planned for any of us to see.

What life looks like for Gretel, now, is mostly slow. She sleeps in the house every night on blankets with a memory foam mat underneath, to support her joints. She is on regular hormonal suprelorin implants which are needed more regularly now, to stop her body from trying to produce eggs and to give her a fighting chance to keep the tumour from getting the upper hand.

I took her to the vet for a checkup recently as her comb is so pale and she is tired, but the blood tests came back clear. The implant does make the comb paler, but I have added multivet supplement to her water incase her body is lacking any vitamins. Bringing her in the house each evening lets me check on her properly. I can check her weight, listen to her breathing and check for any parasites which are so much more common in birds who have underlying issues.

Gretel doesn’t eat as well as she used to. We offer her layers mash, which is softer than the grain the others have. She was harshly debeaked as a chick, which means seeds can be difficult work. In the evenings, when I make the rabbits’ food, I hand-feed her some of their spinach. She loves cut-up grapes. Her depth perception isn’t great any more, so it takes her a few pecks to find the grape, but she gets there.

Sometimes after her crop feed, I preen her with my fingers and she preens my arm in return.

During the day, as long as the weather is good, she goes back to her little flock at the back of the house. She hangs around with Jack the rooster, Cookie, Ginny, Tess and Heather the polish hens, Thelma the bantam and Pluto with her posh patterned feathers. Gretel is still the boss of them all, even though she doesn’t have the energy any more to hold them to task. They sit with her when she wants company and give her the room she needs when she wants to be left alone.

My old dog Charlie taught me something useful about caring for elderly animals. In his last year, walks weren’t really walks any more. We called them potters. Sometimes they were not even potters. but carries, with stops along the way so he could be placed on the ground and sniff something for as long as he wanted. I learned that I shouldn’t aim to keep giving care the way I used to but instead to find the version of care that fits the animal in front of me, as they are in that moment.

And that means listening and watching. The real work of caring for an elderly animal isn’t only the obvious things like soft beds, leg massages or hand-fed grapes. It’s the close attention. Watching what they tell you, every day, with their bodies and their behaviour. Gretel told me on the vet’s table that day. She tells me every morning, in the way she settles or perks up, the way she leans toward the sun. Every animal is doing this kind of communicating, all the time. They are owed someone who listens.

Today, at 8 years old, Gretel hopped on the soft grass. She has known sunshine and grapes, and a flock she presides over, and being preened by hands she trusts.

If you have an old animal in your life, tell me about them.

What are they asking of you these days?

Thank you, as always, for reading and supporting the rescue.

Love Catherine x

Hello Friends,

I have a habit of naming upcoming weeks in my head, almost as a way of getting through them. This one was ‘vet week’. Eight of our animal family members have been through the vet’s doors this week.

Rosie and Diesel the bunnies were probably the easiest appointments yet still 100% essential. They went in for their annual health check, nail trim and their calicivirus vaccine.

It baffles me that humans release such a nasty virus to kill wild rabbits. Imagine purposefully designing something that causes severe liver necrosis and internal haemorrhages. And yet barely putting any resources behind contraceptive alternatives.

Given the choice between violence and a humane alternative, why do so many humans pick violence every time?

Calicivirus is so widespread, you can’t safely care for rabbits without the vaccine, even when they are house bunnies like Rosie and Diesel. Whenever I see a rabbit in the wild I wish with all my might that they will be safe.

As you can see from the photos both Diesel and Rosie were very scared, but they cuddled up together in their carrier immediately after the appointment.

Rosie was rescued from a meat farm back in 2022. It was just as horrible as the worst battery farm you can imagine. Her paws were raw from the wire. It’s hard to believe what she went through as now she is such a big, friendly bunny.

But much like rescued meat chickens she is up against some issues due to her breed. Heart issues are very common in rabbits used in the meat industry. Rosie had a slightly irregular heartbeat and has to go back in for another check in two weeks.

Both bunnies need to go on a bit of a diet. It’s hardly a surprise. Whilst I am very careful with their diets, Rosie is bred to have a huge appetite and to put on weight very easily. It’s hard to keep the floor free of chicken seed here and if it is dropped, Rosie and Diesel are straight onto it!

I can relate. I am the same way with vegan chocolate. Seriously, don’t leave any around me if you want to see it again.

Here’s the quick rundown from the other vet trips this week:

• Cookie: post-surgery check (remember all that yucky egg she had removed a couple of weeks ago?) Healing well, but the vet is concerned the implant may not yet have kicked in so there may be some more egg in there! She’s back in two weeks, on meds for now and thankfully very bright in herself.

• Ginny and Tess (Cookie’s daughters): respiratory infections, both on meds. When they were surrendered years ago they had E coli and ever since they have had more sensitive respiratory systems.

• Pamela: pneumonia which is something she has been susceptible to since she was surrendered, plus a case of mistaken identity. The vet nurse thought she was a rooster due to her spurs, but she’s definitely a hen. Hormone issues similar to PCOS in human women can cause spur growth.

• Mara: One of our lovely rescued parent farm girls had canker on the roof of her mouth. We caught it early, procedure done to clean out mouth and meds prescribed.

It is a busy house at night as everyone who needs meds or extra care sleeps inside on blankets.

And then there was Alice.

Alice and her best friend Minnie were young hens who were abandoned like rubbish when their human moved house.

They haven’t been with us that long and have only just reached the age where they begin to lay eggs. Alice recently began separating herself from her friends and seemed quiet.

At the vets it became clear something was very wrong. Upon examination there was swelling and blood in her cloaca. We needed to put a stop to her body’s attempts at egg laying.

She was given a hormonal implant and medication and she was kept inside on blankets and crop fed, but it was not enough.

Alice passed away on Friday night. A harsh reminder that the selective breeding of these girls to lay too many eggs cannot always be remedied and can have horrible effects even at a young age.

I am so glad we got to give Alice a couple of months of love and care. And that her best friend Minnie has bonded with Quinn which may help ease her grief.

Quinn is such a sweet boy to the girls. He does his dances, but he doesn’t chase them or try to mount them. I hope when we are in a position to take in more animals that we can rescue a couple of girls to be friends with Quinn and Minnie.

For now though, we are at our limit in both our care load and in budget.

Which brings me to our most extroverted isa brown, Chloe.

We were meant to be taking her into the vets for a bumble foot procedure but had to make the hard decision to wait, as we simply don’t have the money right now. She has been to the vets for meds and I am bathing her foot in betadine and applying cream daily. We’ll keep her comfy and hopefully make some progress before we can afford her treatment.

If there are any signs of the bumble foot worsening, of course I will get her straight to the vet. For now she is happy, raiding the pig’s fruit bucket before I get a chance to bring it in to them, dust bathing and spending time with Claude the rooster.

It is a weird feeling making the decision to put her procedure on hold, because I’ve always managed to pull together funds for vet treatment. But I guess when there are so many at the vets in a short period, it pushes us to the limits.

Of course, if any life saving treatment is needed it will be given no matter if it goes on credit cards or if I have to busk on a street corner (lord help anyone who has to hear me sing. Maybe they will pay me to stop!)

It’s not all bad financially! Actually I have a lot of hope and a huge amount of gratitude because…

We met our goal of 20 paid subscribers on Substack!!! Woohooo!

We even exceeded our initial goal with 21 people who chose to support the animals. I know it won’t pay off the vet bills, but the sense of building a real support crew for the animals is wonderful.

So if you have helped out, thank you so much. It means far more than the dollar amount you have given. The same goes for our hen heroes and one off donors.

This week one donor enabled us to buy a few pumpkins for the pigs, another a bag of grapes for the chickens and ducks, another donor helped us to buy a whole week of food and bedding. Whether a big or small donation, it is received with gratitude from both me and the animals. It kind of outweighs the financial worry and makes me feel really happy, grateful and hopeful.

Since we don’t have the funds for plants right now I have been continuing my stick, log and rock scavenging around the property. I think it may be one of my favourite pastimes. I guess joys really can be found in the simple things in life!

I love the feeling of finding something free and natural and turning it into something the animals get real happiness from. And hopefully it goes without saying that I always leave logs or rocks if animals like lizards or ants are living in or under them.

The most satisfying individuals to gift sticks to must be Bert and Ernie the roosters. They were found wandering around an apartment complex.

You guessed it… dumped.

They were only babies and trying to follow people as they walked to their apartments. Thankfully someone took pity on them and brought them to safety in their apartment before contacting us.

Now the brothers are all grown up and out of everyone here, Bert and Ernie love to climb, perch and hop the most! They are like the Ninja Warriors of the chicken world.

As soon as I lugged in a couple of rocks and a log, they started pecking them, hopping on them and getting all excited. When I positioned the items to create a perch they were even happier. They seemed very interested in the different view of the hen haven and the hens next door.

One day their whole enclosure will be a rooster jungle gym!

The roosters all have such distinct personalities.

Take Fraser, for example. He was originally rescued when dumped with his seven brothers. You may remember that me and director Isy were going for a rare bush swim when we found them. Not exactly the time out and self care we had planned! The brothers all had their wings clipped so they couldn’t even perch away from predators.

After the rescue, Fraser was being bullied by his brothers. He was one of the smallest roosters of the gang. We separated the group in two but he still didn’t seem happy.

A couple of months ago we rescued the teenagers. Five gangly, fluffy-footed roosters dumped by the river. A few days after they arrived, Fraser escaped his enclosure, hopped over into the front garden and joined the teenage gang. Actually I’d say he became the leader of the gang. From bullied boy to gentle, kind leader.

I love how he chose the family that he wanted. He is now in the front garden permanently. Whenever we are working on a coop in the garage, he has to come and inspect it. He has done a thorough inspection of every coop.

We picked up two dodgy coops off facebook marketplace this week. They may not be great, but with a little love and snake proofing they will be just as effective and loads cheaper than a flat packed coop. Thank goodness for Fraser giving his building tips.

I have quite the treat coming up tomorrow. My good friend, Sarah, is coming to visit all the way from Alice Springs. I met her in 2018 when she started volunteering at the hen rescue when it was a small suburban rescue in Sydney.

But as is often the way with vegans, we had so much to talk about and soon became good friends.

It’s a shame Sarah can’t stay here as the house is more of an animal barn than a comfortable home, but having her here for a couple of days will be amazing.

Our goal is to give one of the enclosures a makeover. I thought it would be fun to do a before and after from a boring space to a super fun one. I will have to share photos with you next Sunday.

I hope you have the most fabulous week ahead and thank you again for being here and for being on the animals’ side.

Love Catherine

P.S. If you would like to donate towards any of the recent vet bills or to contribute enough for a watermelon, pumpkin or a bag of grapes you can donate here: https://henrescue.org/donate or become a paid subscriber.

P.P.S. If you already have, thank you. You are amazing and never taken for granted (even if I may keep falling behind with tax receipts).

Hello Friends,

I’m excited to share with you some beautiful photos of some of my beloved animal friends from the hen haven.

This week I am focusing on friendships.

I get to witness so many beautiful, enduring friendships. They may blossom, change, get stronger, or challenged by newcomers.

Animal friendships speak volumes to me, because as I watch Robyn the pigeon preen Eden, or Cookie the rooster snuggle up to Mrs Sharp, I see the capacity for empathy, pleasure, fun and yes… love.

I heard someone say recently that they don’t eat red meat but struggle to empathise with chickens. For anyone who feels the same way, I would say look at these friendships. Watch how these animals are enjoying their lives and how they care for one another. And whilst we do not show it in these photos, they also worry if their friend is stressed and they grieve if their friend passes away.

There are far more friendships here at the hen haven than I could fit in this newsletter. So today, I walked around, trying to stick to the shade since it was another hot day. I sat with the animals on the grass, letting them come to me if they wanted or to stay away if they preferred and I took some photos of the friendships I saw.

Wandering around and watching the goings on is actually one of my favourite things to do and so much more rewarding than going up and grabbing at animals, forcing them to cuddle or to spend time with humans.

When I lay on the grass earlier and Jasper the rooster chose to come and stand by me, it was a real privilege.

I’ll keep this short and sweet so you can get to enjoy the photos.

But if you would like to hear more about the animals in the photos please do listen to the audio by pressing play above.

Someone recently said to me that when we are facing such huge animal rights issues, saving one or two individuals makes no difference. They said (with kindness and good intentions) that we should focus on the big picture.

Whilst I agree that the big picture is so important and should be a part of our work, I think every one of these friendships speaks volumes as to why each of these animals deserved to be rescued.

They all do.

You all will have heard this requoted by me a million times before as it is our NSW Hen Rescue motto:

Saving one animal may not change the world, but it will change the world for that one animal.

I think everyone reading this will feel the same.

Love Catherine x

https://henrescue.org/donate

P.S I want to say welcome to our new subscribers and thank you to three new paid subscribers on Substack this week. Only one more to go until we reach twenty! And thank you to anyone who has made a donation recently. You are such an important part of keeping these animals happy and cared for.

Hello Friends,

Welcome to this week’s Sunday Scoop from the Coop!

I have a huge feeling of relief today as I sit here with Max the bunny. The worst of the heat is over! Woohoo! Yesterday, we got through what I hope is the last 36 degree day of Autumn. I tell you what, getting an aircon that works is an absolute priority for next summer.

Me and David were focused on keeping everyone cool; hosing down the pigs, misting the ducks and checking on everyone reguarly. But we made it through, and today’s 30 degrees feels like a gift in comparison, especially now night has come with it’s beautiful cool air.

Before I get into the scoop, I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who left comments and sent personal replies to Wednesday’s article. Your words meant so much, and your stories were really moving.

It’s nice to know I’m not the only weirdo who doesn’t hesitate to save a rat, a spider or a cockroach.

Sometimes it feels like I’m an alien living on a cruel planet where I don’t quite fit in. But no... it turns out a whole lot of you are just like me!

Now, those of you who have been following along will remember Cookie the frizzle x polish hen and the hard mass in her abdomen that we’ve been worried about. She went into the vet on Thursday for what was meant to be an exploratory procedure.

What they found was not the tumour we suspected. Thank goodness for that! But it was a huge, compacted mass of old congealed egg mixed with hardened infection. A disgusting ball of infected omelette if you will. (sorry for that image.)

About 10 centimetres across, it weighed roughly a third of her body weight.

A third of her body weight!

And she was still walking around like nothing was wrong.

How she was even alive, we honestly don’t know. But it says everything about how strong chickens are and how well they hide their pain. Which is exactly why we have to watch them so closely, because by the time they show you something is wrong, it’s often been wrong for a long time.

The incredible news is that the vet team managed to remove the entire mass. Cookie already had a suprelorin implant the week before to stop any more eggs being produced so she will never have to suffer through something like this again.

After the op, she stayed at the vets for a couple of nights on an IV drip. That first night was the scary one, because I really thought we might lose her after such a big procedure.

But she pulled through!

She’s home now, on pain relief, antibiotics and being monitored closely. She goes back on Tuesday for a checkup to make sure she is healing well. And I have to say, she is remarkably bright. I keep looking at her and thinking, you had a giant operation and you’re just pottering about like it’s a normal Sunday.

The operation ended up taking hours once they saw what they were dealing with. When I got the bill, it was much higher than expected. I mean, I know it was life saving surgery and the team did an extraordinary job. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a bit of a gut punch.

Things are now very tight, but seeing Cookie enjoying her day today, gobbling down her food and laying out in the sun, I have no doubt it was the right decision. I am not going to panic about finances, because actually we have something to celebrate...

We now have 16 paid subscribers on Substack!

Sixteen people who have said, “I believe in what you and the team are doing and I want to help keep it going.”

I didn’t think we’d get to 16 this quickly, and I am so grateful to every single one of you.

Those subscribers, along with our one off donors and our amazing hen heroes are the people who paid for the frozen grapes and the watermelon that got the animals through yesterday’s heat. They’re the people who made it possible for us to go and buy more feed today. They’re the reason Cookie got her operation.

So here’s my little dream for this coming week. I’d love for us to get to 20 paid subscribers.

Just four more people who want to be part of this.

I’m not going to pretend that 20 solves everything. It doesn’t. 20 is just the beginning. But it would be a real milestone for us, and a sign of creating a more sustainable rescue.

And if a paid subscription isn’t something you can do right now, that is completely fine. Sharing this newsletter with someone who might enjoy it, or just being here reading or listening to it matters.

If you are in a tight financial situation like us, please ignore any donation requests as they are not meant for you. Please make sure you are in an ok position first. I mean it!

I need to look out for you, just like you are looking out for me and the animals.

Right, some updates from the rest of the week…

Over at Floppy Feathers Haven, our Sydney microsanctuary run by the wonderful Charlize, two of the girls had vet visits.

Around six years ago, Peanut was dumped on the doorstep of one of our adopters as a chick. One of her legs was totally twisted in the wrong direction. We got her to the vet where she had a leg amputation and she became just about the speediest hopper you will ever meet!

Now, she still hops around Charlize’s house like she owns the place (she does), but she is having more difficulty these days.

On Thursday she went in for a heart ultrasound at SASH. It turns out she has an enlarged aorta and an enlarged heart chamber, so she’ll be starting on a specially compounded heart medication. That probably explains why she is having a bit more difficulty hopping. Hopefully she will feel better soon.

Fifi had a bit of a week!

Last weekend she got an impacted crop, but thankfully Charlize knows what she is doing so with crop massages and a liquid diet of avian crittercare for a couple of days, she managed to clear the impaction before Fifi’s vet appointment.

The vet thinks she was just eating too fast. Being an absolute guts, basically. She may need a crop bra (Fifi, not Charlize).

Fifi also went in on Thursday for further tests. Previous x-rays had shown calcium deposits on her bones which can sometimes indicate an ovarian cyst (yup, everything seems to come back to the reproductive system in these girls). Thankfully her abdomen ultrasound was normal, but due to her high white blood cell count, she’s on antibiotics.

Fifi is one of those chickens with a personality so big you can’t ignore her, and why on earth would you want to?! Look at those fluffy cheeks!

Charlize’s partner, Arrabella, has trained Fifi to spin, peck a target, walk around Arrabella’s legs, and put things in a mini shopping trolley. It’s all part of Fifi’s enrichment and also a lot of fun to watch. You can follow Fifi’s adventures on her Instagram (yes of course she has her own Instagram. She’s pretty much a henfluencer.)

Meanwhile at the Hen Haven, little Wren the ex-meat industry rooster is growing up. His voice is getting deeper, like a teenage boy whose voice is breaking. But he still loves his chin scratches.

In the evenings he’ll sit on my lap and then shuffle over so he’s partly on my lap and partly on David’s, just so he can get chin rubs from both of us at once. And if we stop? He stands up and gives us this look like, excuse me, I did not say you could stop.

He is just the most wonderful boy.

As if knowing I was writing about another rooster, Jasper, who I nickname my rooster husband, just hopped up onto the railing outside the window to supervise me.

Jasper was dumped in the bush where I later rescued him. He follows me everywhere, does little dances for me, and when I give him grapes, he does those special rooster clucks and offers them to me first. I have to pretend to eat them before he’ll agree to have any himself.

Absolute gentleman.

One more thing before I go. I was browsing Facebook Marketplace today looking for any cheap or free supplies we could use for the animals, and I stumbled across an ad for rabbit breeding cages in my area.

The photos made me feel sick. Rows and rows of wire cages crammed into a shed, almost like battery cages but for rabbits.

Sixty cages!

What a horrible reminder we never know what is going on inside the sheds we drive past. I wish I could get those cages and destroy them so they never get used again.

And as I sat here with Max snuggled up beside me, with his little aeroplane ears, one up, one down, (though I’m noticing they’re starting to lop more often and I think we might have a proper lop bunny on our hands soon), all I could think about were the rabbits who lived in those cages who will never know what it feels like to binky across a bed or press their face into someone who loves them.

But then Max did that thing where he nudges my hand with his nose because he thinks I’ve been looking at my laptop for too long and not at him. And I thought, this is why we do it. Not because we can save them all, but because every one we do reach gets to feel this. Gets to be acknowledged as the individual they are.

Thank you for being here. And if you’re one of our 16 paid subscribers or one of our donors or hen heroes, thank you for making weeks like this one possible.

Cookie is alive because of you.

Love Catherine x

I was meant to be writing something different today. I had plans to share a photo collection of the beautiful animal friendships forming at the Hen Haven, with stories about each one. Instead, I’m writing this at 10pm with Max the bunny hopping around beside me on the bed, but no friendship photos as I did not have time to take them.

But perhaps sharing what a day can look like here is just as important.

Today started with a juvenile rat trapped in the heavy-duty mesh grate underneath one of the coops. We use these grates for predator protection, to stop foxes digging under. I’m guessing the little rat used to be small enough to dart through the gaps. She wasn’t anymore. Her little body was twisted in an S shape, stuck through two squares of the mesh, and she was terrified.

It was already hot and she was in full sun. I can’t believe this heat in April! It’s meant to be Autumn.

I tried the handheld wire cutters first, but the mesh is heavy-duty metal. When I could get the cutters right next to her body, I’d use those, but they could barely get through it. For the sections further from her, I had to use the angle grinder, sparks flying just centimetres from her.

For 45 minutes, I alternated between the two, cutting her free bit by bit, terrified I’d hurt her, terrified she’d die of stress before I could finish. When I finally freed her, I honestly expected the worst. But after I’d set her up in a carrier with a blanket, some food and water and given her some dark, quiet time to destress, she was totally fine.

I, on the other hand, was absolutely done in.

And yesterday’s news was still rattling around in my head.

I found out that a grant we’d been really hoping for isn’t going to happen. It was a miscommunication, me getting my wires crossed, and nobody’s fault really. But it means we’re sitting on a stack of vet bills with no clear way to cover them.

This is the part of running a sanctuary that I find hardest to talk about.

Don’t get me wrong, losing someone or witnessing animal cruelty is always the hardest part, and nothing compares to that. But the thing I find hardest to talk about is the money. It’s having to constantly ask for help and feeling like you’re bothering people.

It’s that horrible, creeping feeling that you’ve somehow failed the animals.

It’s wondering, at age 42, whether I’ll still be doing this at 80, scrambling from one bill to the next.

I started NSW Hen Rescue in 2010. I really thought that by 2026, I’d have things on more sustainable footing. Our amazing regular donors (our hen heroes) and our new paid Substack subscribers cover the feed and water deliveries, and I can’t tell you how much that means. But the vet bills are a different beast entirely.

Which brings me to this afternoon. I had two girls booked in at the vet: Lydia and Valerie.

Lydia is an ex-battery hen who had a terrible time with reproductive disease when she came out of the cage last year. Her suprelorin implant saved her life, and she was due for a new one before it wore off.

These implants are one of the things people don’t always budget for when rescuing hens. When a hen stops laying, most people think she’s just having a break, or worse, they think she’s “useless” and get rid of her.

But often, something is going wrong inside. These girls have been selectively bred to lay far more eggs than their bodies can handle, and it takes a real toll. The implants help manage that, but they need to be renewed regularly, and they’re not cheap. It’s one of the reasons hen rescue is such an expensive rescue to run.

Valerie is a girl who was dumped by the side of a road in a box because she was no longer laying eggs. Valerie’s abdomen is swollen, so she was in for her implant today too.

While I was in the waiting room, I got chatting to a lovely older couple with a beautiful, young staffy. They told me her story. They’d recently found her in the middle of the road. Well I say found, they actually nearly ran over her.

When they tracked down her previous owners, the person said they didn’t really want her. So this couple, who had never planned on having a staffy, took her home. Her old name was Shadow, but she never responded to it, so they renamed her Lucky and now she wags her tail non-stop when they say her name.

The chat really made me smile because I could see how much love Lucky was being showered with now and how these people had welcomed her into their family. I love how they stopped and took action when so many would have kept driving.

But it was also a reminder that it’s not just chickens and rabbits who get discarded when people decide they’re inconvenient. It’s dogs and cats and horses and so many other animals that people treat as disposable.

When I got home, I was meant to sit down and work on my planned article. The friendship photo collection. The audio recordings. And then work on adding plants and perches to one of the rooster enclosures. Instead, my body made the decision for me. I lay down on the bed, and Max the bunny hopped up and pressed himself right into my face.

If you’ve never experienced bunny healing energy, I highly recommend it. It almost felt like magic radiating off him, soaking into all the parts of me that were depleted. I was asleep within minutes.

I really hope this doesn’t come across as a massive whinge. I’m writing it because I think it matters for people to see what a normal day at a sanctuary looks like. Not dramatic rescues or the cute photos (although here is a very cute photo of my bunny nurse).

Not the triumphant “she’s safe now!” posts. But a day in April where it’s too hot for autumn, a rat needs saving, a grant falls through, two hens need expensive implants to stay alive, and the person trying to hold it all together falls asleep with a rabbit on her face even though there are a million jobs I should be doing.

I’m guessing all the stresses of the last week mounted up and took me down today, because really there was nothing more challenging about today than any other day. Occasionally our bodies just say, ‘nope, you won’t be doing all those tasks you need to do. You need to rest,’ and there is no fighting it. So that is what I did until 5pm when it was time to care for the animals again.

The animals still need feeding, and the vet bills don't pause just because I do.

The people that keep this place going are our hen heroes (regular donors) and our paid Substack subscribers. If you’ve ever thought about becoming either, days like today are exactly why it matters. And if you’re already one of them, thank you.

You are the reason Lydia and Valerie got their implants today.

And if neither of those is an option right now, that’s completely okay. Sharing this post, or just knowing you’re here reading it, means more than you might think.

Love Catherine x

P.S. Max is now in full of beans mode because it’s nighttime and he thinks I should stop writing and play. And those friendship photos? They’re coming soon, on a lighter day. I promise.

Welcome to another Scoop from the Coop on a very blustery Sunday. The clocks have gone back, the air is cooler, and I am in my element. Even though daylight saving has its advantages, there is something about that extra hour of sleep that makes everything feel manageable again. I always feel more like myself in autumn.

Before I get started, a quick note: This is the first Scoop from the Coop I’ll be reading aloud, so if you’d rather listen than read, hit the audio button at the top. Some of you mentioned you enjoyed the photo chat the other day, and it’s the kind of thing you can have on whilst you’re doing house chores, caring for your animals, driving, or going for a walk.

As I write this, Max the bunny is beside me on the bed, rearranging the blankets to his exact specifications and giving his toy panda a very thorough grooming. He's getting increasingly full of beans as the evening approaches.

I keep thinking about how I almost didn't bring Max to the hen haven as a permanent family member. I was worried the extra animal care may be tricky to manage. I was going to try and find him a home nearer to Sydney, but part of me just felt he was meant to be here. And now, here we are.

Max on the bed, panda getting groomed, me completely unable to imagine life without him. He is an enormous distraction and an absolute cheeky chops, and I’m so glad he’s here.

Happy Easter, by the way!

I do hope you’re enjoying some vegan chocolate today.

But it wouldn’t be Easter without a feeling of sadness for what this day means for animals. Every year, without fail, bunnies and chicks are gifted to children. Every year, the shelters overflow in the weeks and months that follow. Some animals end up dumped in the bush or by the road.

If chicks have come from a hatchery, chances are the roosters were already killed before sale. If not, they’ll be abandoned the moment they start crowing.

And the rabbits? So many will spend their lives alone in a hutch, full of potential for friendship and mischief and joy that nobody will ever bother to discover.

I look at Max digging in the blankets, and I feel for them all.

Building Habitats, One Enclosure at a Time

One of the silver linings of pausing new intakes is that we finally have the time and headspace to focus on improving what we already have.

The goal: less “enclosure,” more “garden.”

Less barren, more interesting. Proper habitat rather than just somewhere to contain animals.

Whilst many of the chickens do free range and sleep in coops at night, it is essential for many of the flocks and roosters to have their own areas to avoid fighting between the boys or overmating of hens. But the last thing we want is a bunch of wire enclosures with nothing interesting inside.

Earlier today, David and I walked down into the bushy part of the property, the section we don’t use for chickens because it sits too close to the neighbours and acts as a buffer for rooster crowing.

Under the trees we found fallen branches, pieces of timber that would make excellent perches, and some big rocks. It was actually a lot of fun hunting around for the best sticks or logs. I gently placed some back if I disturbed an insect home, but lots of them were uninhabited and able to be moved.

We lugged some of them back up the field and started the process of distributing them through the enclosures. I can’t wait to do this for all the enclosures.

I’ve also bought a small collection of hardy native plants that can hopefully survive both our clay soil and the enthusiastic attentions of our chickens. We’re going one enclosure at a time, and I feel really excited about it. The chickens all deserve to enjoy the best home we can make them. I can’t wait to show you pics when things are all spruced up.

It’s part of a broader effort to get things properly organised here at the Hen Haven.

I’ve set up a medication corner in the kitchen with a whiteboard listing every animal’s meds, and all the medications have been sorted into labelled plastic drawers. There is also a clipboard with a full list of daily tasks which I update each week as things change. It sounds simple, but it has made such a difference.

And okay, so the rest of the house is in bits, but I am very proud of this, one corner.

If anything were to happen to me, someone could walk in, read the clipboard, follow the medication instructions on the board and take over without any confusion.

The feed room has had a similar overhaul. All the hay on a wire bed frame, up off the floor, chicken feed on one side, pig feed on the other. Less chaos, more time actually caring for the animals. That’s the aim.

I am not a fan of cleaning, but I really love decluttering and organising. My mind feels calmer already! Maybe I will finally have the brain space to work out how to get people to be kind to animals! Or at least not to actively harm them.

Goodbye, Amber

Now for some sad news.

Some of you may have seen the photo gallery I shared on Wednesday, where I shared an image of Amber and Mrs Sharp. Two battery hens, absolute best friends, joined at the hip.

Some months ago, they had arrived at a vet to be euthanised because they had reproductive disease, and the woman who had been caring for them had decided against getting implants again. But they were still bright and well at that point, so the vet contacted me, and they came to us instead.

On Wednesday I took the photo of them above. The very next morning, I found Amber sitting on the ground at the bottom of the coop rather than waiting at the door to come out. Mrs Sharp was pacing around her friend and I knew something was wrong straight away. When I picked Amber up, I felt the swelling around her abdomen immediately,

Amber had already received a Suprelorin implant three and a half months ago. Normally that would still be in effect, but when things have deteriorated to a certain point, the implant simply cannot do what it needs to do. The vet managed to squeeze her in that day but Amber seemed to go downhill even during the gentle handling of the examination, as if any movement was too much for her.

She stayed at the vets for fluids and supportive care. A couple of hours later, I got the call that she had passed.

Amber went downhill so fast. And the reason is the same reason we lose so many of our girls. She was bred, as all laying hens are, to produce somewhere between 300 and 350 eggs a year. Remember, red jungle fowl, who they originate from, would naturally lay just 12 to 30.

That selective breeding, driven entirely by human greed, follows these girls long after they’ve been rescued. The implant did give Amber extra years of quality life with her best friend beside her. I am also grateful for the extra months we gave her. I know they were worth it and she loved every moment.

We will bury her and plant a tree above her grave.

Which brings me to her best friend, Mrs Sharp.

Animals grieve deeply, and a bond as strong as Amber and Mrs Sharp’s makes that grief all the harder. My main concern after Amber passed was Mrs Sharp, because stress and grief can suppress the immune system in ways that make a vulnerable hen deteriorate quickly.

So yesterday I decided to try introducing her to the flock with Brad, Jolene, and Bonnie, who she had been seeing through the fence every day. I was fully prepared to step in immediately if there was any tension.

It was almost like they had always known each other. She isn’t fully integrated into the group yet, but there were no fights. Just some dancing from Brad.

Mrs Sharp settled in with a confidence that surprised and relieved me. I cracked an egg for the gang which they were happy to share, and that enclosure became one of the first we brought logs and enrichment into as part of our habitat project.

Mrs Sharp also has reproductive disease and has a suprelorin implant. But right now she is bright and doing well, and I am very much hoping she continues that way.

Cookie’s Vet Trip

Amber wasn’t the only one at the vet on Thursday. The original appointment that day was for Cookie.

Not to be confused with Mr Cookie the rooster. This Cookie is a Polish mix with a little frizzle in her. She came to us back in 2021 when we were at the Berrima rental.

She arrived with her whole flock, all of them with E. coli. The person surrendering them wasn’t willing to pay for them to get treatment. They recovered quite quickly after we started them on meds, and Cookie has been with us ever since. She is the oldest of the group and the mum of some of the others.

The other day, the coop door blew shut, and instead of putting herself to bed, Cookie was sitting outside. When I lifted her up to pop her in, I felt a hard mass in her abdomen. Unlike the squishy fluid you feel with typical reproductive disease, this was firm which makes me scared it is reproductive cancer.

She is very bright in herself, eating well, moving fairly normally unless you look closely. That brightness is reassuring. The mass is not.

Cookie is home now on pain relief, antibiotics, and a Suprelorin implant. Next week she will go in for an exploratory surgery so we can understand exactly what we’re dealing with. She is coming inside every night for extra food, comfort and company, and we will do our absolute best for her.

A Visit to the Rabbit Sanctuary

Amongst all of the above, I had a lovely experience this week. Kim Cooney invited me to visit The Rabbit Sanctuary, which she founded in 2008 with her late husband, Jim. It’s only twenty minutes from the Hen Haven, and somehow I had never been. Even though I adopted Diesel through the Rabbit Sanctuary, I had picked him up directly from his foster carer.

The Rabbit Sanctuary is a wonderful place, like a little rabbit village.

The Bunny Barn was the highlight. It is a detached, fully insulated bunny living quarters and care room, divided into separate enclosures. Each enclosure has a little tower inside that the bunnies can sleep inside or hop on top of.

There was an area to medicate or weigh the bunnies and on every enclosure door hung a separate dust pan and brush along with information about the bunnies inside.

Another inspiring thing for me was the volunteer accommodation. Partly because it is nothing fancy, but still lovely.

It is a converted shed with air con, a porta loo, and a porta shower outside. Simple bunk beds and a little table. Basic, functional, and self-contained enough that volunteers can come from afar to help or transport animals.

That is exactly the kind of thing we need here. We have wonderful volunteers, but none of them can reguarly help with hen haven animal care as they’re all in Sydney. Whilst I would love to force them to move to the Northern Rivers (hehe) in the meantime a simple, self-contained space would make a world of difference.

Kim has a great business mind which I could see in all the systems she generously showed me. With over 300 volunteers she has a lot to manage, but she pulls it off. And she has a huge amount of love for every rabbit and other animal in her care.

The visit was a good reminder that there is always so much to learn from other sanctuaries, and that those connections are worth nurturing. I hope to go back for another visit very soon.

You can check out The Rabbit Sanctuary here:

https://www.rabbitsanctuary.com.au/

What Your Support Has Made Possible This Week

• Paid for Amber’s treatment at the vets. She was supported and given care until the last moment.

• Paid for Cookie’s initial vet treatment and will also contribute to her upcoming surgery next week.

• A small selection of native plants bought to start transforming the chicken and pigeon enclosures into proper habitats.

• A roll of galvanised wire bought for a new chicken enclosure so we will be ready for when some of our baby roosters grow up.

• Another load of feed and hay for everyone, plus an extra bale of hay for the pigs, who are very much enjoying snuggling into them now the cooler weather has arrived.

• Grapes, grapes, grapes… everyone loves grapes! Piggies Annie, Buster, Eddie and Ginger, Roosters Jasper, Randy and Fraser, Hens Maura, Chloe, Suzie, Monica and Amanda and ducks Echo and Esme all say thank you for the grapes!

If you’d like to contribute: https://henrescue.org/donate or you can become a paid subscriber on Substack.

If you already are a donor, hen hero or paid subscriber… THANK YOU!

Join Me on Wednesday

On Wednesday I’ll be sharing a photo gallery of some of the friendships here at the Hen Haven, both new ones forming and existing ones evolving. It’s always shifting, who gravitates towards who, who has welcomed a newcomer, who has formed an unexpected bond. I’ll share photos and chat about the photos in audio if you’d like to listen. I think you’ll love it.

Thank you, as always, for being in our corner. And in the animals’ corner, which is the more important one.

Happy Easter. Give your animals an extra cuddle from me.

Love Catherine x

Today I wanted to do something a little different.

I’ve been writing some longer pieces lately and I know not everyone has time to sit down and read them. So this week, no big article. Just 10 photos I took this morning of some of the residents, because sometimes you just need to look at some beautiful chickens. And for me, sitting with my feathered family members is one of the great joys of running a sanctuary. They are the moments that make all the hard bits feel so worthwhile.

Quick thing before you scroll. From today, I’ve started adding audio to my posts, so if you’d rather listen than read, you can hit play at the top. If you're reading this in your email, just tap the title to open the post and you'll see the play button.

This article is a little different, in that I am not reading the post. Instead, I chat a bit about each of the little ones in the photos and their stories. You can even listen to it sped up if you like. It’s completely optional, but if you want something for the background whilst you’re doing the dishes or feeding your own animals, it’s there. I’ll be doing this for the Sunday posts and reading longer articles going forward too, so if you are busy you can listen to me read the article.

Right. On to the important ones… The Animals!

Thank you for being here and for all your support lately. If you’d like to help us keep looking after these beautiful faces, you can donate here: https://henrescue.org/donate or you can become a paid subscriber on Substack.

Or if you have donated recently or are already a hen hero… thank you!

Love, Catherine x

Hello friends,

Today’s edition is being written with supervision. Wren is perched on the back of my chair, cheeping away like a little baby even though he is now the size of a full grown chicken.

He flew up here himself, and I find myself wishing he could stay at this size forever. I know he has a lot of growing to do.

His size is entirely down to the meat industry that bred him, and I know that same selective breeding will eventually take this mobility from him despite our best efforts with his restricted diet. But today he is here, chirping in my ear and preening my hair, and that puts a smile on my face.

Before I get into the week’s news, I want to say a huge thank you to Isy, who yesterday made the long drive up from Sydney loaded with arrivals (our last ones for a while).

With everyone coming along being so young, I found myself calling her car the baby bus. More on the babies shortly, but first a quick note for those of you not familiar with our new email platform, Substack.

If you are a hen hero and your account shows as a “free subscriber,” please don’t worry. That does not mean you aren’t a hen hero. If you donate regularly through our website or anywhere else, you absolutely are.

Becoming a paid Substack subscriber is simply another way to support the animals if you’d like to, but all content is available to everyone. I guess it is a bit like old school blogging.

If you head to our Substack profile there are lots of lovely photos from this week including some very cuddly babies! I’m finding Substack quite a nice place to be, compared to Facebook or Instagram.

Plum, Marigold and Sage: A happy reunion

Last week I put out an urgent plea for little Plum and Marigold, two unwell baby hens who needed foster care immediately. We couldn’t find a new foster carer, but our director, Isy stepped up, and Marigold especially, has transformed. She is so much brighter already and some of her fowl pox scabs have already started falling off.

Yesterday they were reunited with their sister, Sage, here at the Hen Haven. Plum and Marigold are absolutely joined at the hip and try to perch on top of one another at night, which is as chaotic as it sounds.

To take the photo above, I lay down on my stomach in their enclosure and before they got on the perch, they all had a walk over my back.

Sage was thrilled to have her sisters back, but she has very much decided that Wren is her safe place, so she hopped over the barrier to sit with him when the newbies got a bit much. I feel extra safe and happy with Wren too, so I know how she feels!

Welcome home, Max

Some of you may remember we mentioned Max a couple of weeks ago, the rabbit Isy spotted abandoned on the streets of South West Sydney. After some wonderful care from our foster carer Gemma, yesterday Isy brought him home to the Hen Haven.

He is one of the most people-oriented bunnies I have ever met. The only rival I can think of is our beloved Clover, an ex-meat rabbit who would bound onto the sofa and throw himself onto our laps.

Max has the most wonderful helicopter ears, one up, one down. He also has his emotional support panda. A toy he loves to cuddle up to and to groom.

This morning I brought Max onto the bed and let him hop around. After a quick exploration he laid on his side at my feet, lovely and relaxed. After a while he hopped up, tickling my face with his whiskers, asking for pats. I keep looking at him thinking, how are you even real?

It does make me sad to think how many people keep rabbits in hutches. Not only is it a lonely, miserable life for the rabbit, but those people are missing out on so much joy. A bunny doing binkies around the lounge room. A bunny who gently grooms your hand. All rabbits deserve so much better than a hutch.

His arrival also makes me think about Easter, which is coming up. Every year there is a surge in people buying rabbits and chicks as gifts, and every year rescues are flooded with them once the novelty wears off. Not to mention the ones who are dumped in the bush or on the streets.

If someone you know is about to head to a pet shop or markets to buy a bunny or chick for Easter, consider this your permission to confiscate their car keys until the urge passes.

Three new babies and a note about saying no

Speaking of buying animals as gifts, a man in Auburn bought six baby chicks for his children with no coop and no real plan. Three had already been killed by cats by the time he got in touch with us.

Our wonderful bunny foster carer, Gemma, made a detour to collect the remaining three on her way to meet Isy. She reported that the man seemed more distressed about one of them pooping on his patio than about the fate of the chicks.

They are funny, sweet little ones, having tiny play fights with each other. Although I did feel a surge of stress when I got a proper look at them. I’m fairly sure they are all roosters, which means another enclosure to build down the line. But I have to say, they are absolutely gorgeous. Take a look at those handsome faces and Indigo’s snazzy bouffant.

They are also, I should tell you, the last animals we will be taking in for a while. Well, apart from 4 pigeons who we committed to some time ago. They are just waiting for us to finish their coop and then will be on their way. We have made the difficult decision to pause all new intakes. I desperately want to keep saving more animals, but we need to make sure every animal already here gets the best quality of life we can give them. We cannot do that if we keep saying yes regardless.

It’s not forever, but a temporary break so we can catch up with building new enclosures and getting everyone sorted with vet treatment.

What your support made possible this week

It has been a very full week for vet visits:

• Jen, one of our older hens, has been dealing with a recurring mouth and sinus infection. The worst has now been treated but she needed a procedure to remove the last of the infection deposits from her mouth.

• Maura, who was found dumped and handed into a vet had an X-ray to investigate her painful looking walking gait. She has low bone density, is on pain relief, and is resting in the house whilst we work out next steps.

• Peter, who was dumped and then attacked by a dog had his stitches out after his tail amputation. He is fully healed and absolutely loving life with his new 5 girl friends

• Blossom, who is one of the 7 girls surrendered last weekend, received her Suprelorin implant for her reproductive illness

• Fifi and Peanut our one-legged hen who lives with our wonderful foster carer Charlize, both went to SASH to investigate leg issues. Peanut may also have a heart condition, so we are watching her closely

• We also picked up some fresh bales of hay for the pigs, who received them like it was Christmas morning. Ginger is already constructing a nest of impressive proportions.

• We bought a new roll of wire and star pickets for our next enclosure

• We bought lots of grapes for our grape obsessed flock specifically Jasper, Maura, Amanda, Suzie, Chloe and Echo. Watermelon for the pigs and greens for the bunnies.

If you are able to contribute towards our ongoing vet costs and care, we would be so grateful. With your help we can get back to rescuing sooner.

You can donate at henrescue.org/donate

Love Catherine x

Founder of NSW Hen Rescue

P.S. If you are new here and wondering what a Suprelorin implant is, it is a hormone implant that stops hens from laying eggs. For hens bred to overproduce, it is life-saving.

P.P.S If you have recently donated or become a paid subscriber, thank you so much! I have been working on donation tax receipts and they will be with you in the next couple of days.

Cascade Falls in Macquarie Pass is the kind of place that makes you feel lucky to live in Australia. Dense rainforest, abundant birdlife, fresh water pools and waterfalls. People bring their swimsuits, their cameras and their children.

They also, it turns out, bring their roosters.

And leave them there.

A kind local vegan named David, who had been leaving feed for the roosters and keeping an eye on them, posted about them in a community Facebook group. He was asking for help and wrote that there were five roosters, living near the falls carpark. Though we would later learn there had been seven originally.

The comments that followed were well-meaning. And yet most arrived at the same destination: these roosters would be fine.

“Honestly I think letting them live this life is the most humane thing. They get along, they are a big group so good chance of fighting off predators. They are living a free life. And the biggest threat would be foxes, but they’re most active at night when the roosters would sleep in the trees. If they’re caught, then what? The reality is they’d be killed. They all look super happy and healthy.”

“These guys look like roosters - if they were adopted to a home with chooks they would begin to fight with each other. Roosters aren’t allowed to be kept in residential areas, so not many people can offer them a home. They look happy, healthy and like they have a good social group so for all the life options available for roosters I think they’re living one of the best (but I’m also sure they would welcome the odd food or water drop if you have the time or inclination, especially when it’s super hot). The fact that they’re in such good condition after last week’s heat wave gives me a lot of confidence they’ve got a good setup.”

I understand the logic. I even understand the kindness behind it. But it wasn’t long before, five of seven of those roosters were dead.

I want to talk about the thought pattern of “they’ll be fine.” Because it does real damage.

Domestic chickens are not wild animals. They were not born to fend for themselves in the bush. They have no flock structure to protect them, no experienced older bird to teach them where to shelter, no safe place to sleep. What they have is the instinct of an animal who knows something is very wrong, combined with a body that was not bred for wild living.

“They’ll be fine” is what people say when they want to feel better about something they cannot bring themselves to fix. It is a comfortable story that allows everyone to walk on by.

For a while, the roosters at Macquarie Pass did seem to be surviving. They had a natural water source. David left feed for them and kept a watchful eye. Visitors enjoyed seeing them, although some laughed as their children chased them. But Cascade Falls is a popular walking spot, and people let their dogs run near the carpark.

It was only a matter of time.

Three roosters were killed by dogs. One was hit on the road. One went missing. We found no bodies, only clumps of feathers.

Of the original seven, only two remained. Spencer, a Polish breed rooster whose feathers had grown so long over his eyes he could barely see. And Quinn.

Isy, one of our NSW Hen Rescue directors, drove an hour and a half to try and rescue them both. She caught Spencer, who was slightly easier due to his limited vision, cornered gently against a puppy gate.

Quinn was another matter entirely. She was later joined by David and they worked into the night.

Quinn was fast. He knew every trail, every branch, every shadow in that bush. They found him up a tree at one point and he was gone again before they could get him. Eventually, exhausted and heartbroken, and after 7.5 hours of trying, they had to leave without him.

Spencer went to a home where he experienced his first love and care.

Soon after, I drove down from Northern NSW myself with a van full of puppy gates and netting, thinking we could build a large enough corral to catch him. It was an extremely hot day. The drive took 8.5 hours by the time I arrived I was feeling the effects of the heat. We tried for hours and hours to rescue Quinn, well into the night.

We lost track of him multiple times in the dense bush. We played chicken sounds through a phone speaker and Quinn, this small frightened rooster perked up his head. He was so desperate to hear another chicken. And then he realised it was a trick, and he was gone.

I drove back to Grafton feeling like I had failed him.

It was after that second failed attempt that people began to suggest, gently, that maybe we should just let Quinn live there. That maybe that was where he belonged.

I understood why they said it. I also knew it wasn’t true. He was a domestic rooster, alone in the bush, with no flock and no safety. He wasn’t thriving. He was barely surviving,

We were not going to give up on him.

Isy set up a roster of volunteers to visit Quinn regularly: Isy, David, and a local woman named Jess. They brought him food and they sat with him.

Nobody could get near him. After everything he had been through, including one particularly awful incident where a family turned up in the bush, smoking, shouting and chasing him saying they wanted him for breeding, Quinn had decided that humans were not to be trusted. And who could blame him?

But Isy and David kept going back.

Week after week, Isy would sit a little closer. She brought corn, grapes and berries along with chicken food. Slowly, slowly, over many weeks and months Quinn started to relax. Over time he gained confidence to sit a couple of metres away from her, which doesn’t sound like much, but was so much closer and more trusting than where they had started.

He still wouldn’t let her near enough to catch him.

So we came up with Plan B.

Fifi is a hen cared for by Charlize, another director of the hen rescue who runs our microsanctuary for higher needs animals. Fifi is, to put it plainly, a superstar. Confident, chatty, completely unbothered by car trips or new environments. She is exactly the kind of hen who could walk into any situation and take it in her stride.

Charlize met Isy at Cascade Falls with Fifi in tow. A week earlier, Isy had set up a pen in the area where Quinn had been spending his time, so he could get used to the structure without being frightened by it. Fifi was placed inside the pen.

Isy and Charlize stood back and waited.

It wasn’t long before Quinn heard Fifi. He came out of the bush. He walked into the pen. He started doing his little rooster dances for her, spinning and stepping, showing off.

Isy sent me a video immediately after closing the gate behind him.

‘Oh my god Catherine… we got him we got him. I’m so relieved,’ she said through tears.

I cannot fully explain the relief of hearing those words after so many months. I also cannot fully express what Isy’s dedication meant in making that moment possible. She drove that road more times than I can count. She sat in the bush alone for hours, quietly earning the trust of a rooster who had every reason never to trust a human again. She never once suggested we give up on him. I am so grateful for her.

And as if the universe wanted to make sure Quinn didn’t arrive alone, a few days before he was due to be driven to the hen haven, we received a message through a community Facebook group.

Two young hens had been abandoned when their owner moved house. Neighbours had spotted them perching on a wall, clearly bewildered and at risk of predator attack. Someone had taken them in temporarily, keeping them safe in a crate in their apartment.

Their names are Minnie and Alice.

They travelled up to the Hen Haven with Quinn. And when they were placed in the same enclosure, something shifted in him that was wonderful to watch. He stood taller. He looked so proud. He did not rush at them or chase them. He showed them the food. He danced for them gently. He talked to them. He crowed and crowed. He was safe, and he seemed to know it.

He still perches at night on the highest perch in the enclosure, the one that’s actually meant for the pigeons. That instinct is still in him. But he is happy. He is safe. And he is so gentle with his girls.

Quinn’s story is not unusual, except in its relatively happy ending.

We receive emails about dumped roosters every single day. In a recent week, we rescued seven roosters in our local area alone. We are beyond capacity. We have roosters sleeping in the house. We are building new enclosures we don’t have the money for. Every other sanctuary we know is in the same position.

And when we try to do something about the locations where roosters are being dumped repeatedly, including Cascade Falls, we run into a wall.

We have asked for signage at dumping hotspots. Just simple signs stating:

Dumping animals is illegal, this area is monitored and offenders will be prosecuted.

We offered to obtain and manage the signs ourselves if the relevant authorities would simply agree not to remove them.

We have contacted councils, the RSPCA, National Parks, and Transport for NSW. What follows is always some version of the same conversation: the RSPCA says go to the council, the council says that is not their responsibility, and to go to the RSPCA. National Parks has not responded to Isy at all, and it has now been two weeks. We have been ignored, referred on, and stonewalled at every turn.

I find this both completely predictable and incredibly sad every single time. Because what it tells me is that all organisations we might reasonably look to for help have decided, collectively and without much fuss, that roosters simply are not worth the effort. And that attitude does not exist in isolation.

Chickens are the most numerous farmed land animal on the planet and among the least protected. The rooster dumping crisis is not an accident. It flows directly from the backyard hen industry, from hatching projects at schools, from a culture that sees roosters as a problem to be disposed of rather than a living creature with a heartbeat and a personality and, as it turns out, a very lovely little dance.

Isy made a video about Quinn’s rescue that you can watch on YouTube. It shows the whole journey, from the first rescue attempt, to Fifi working her magic, to Quinn arriving safely at the hen haven. I would love for you to watch it, and if it moves you, to share it. The more people understand what actually happens to dumped roosters, the harder it becomes to believe they’ll be fine.

This morning Quinn was outside in the sunshine with Minnie and Alice. He was doing his little dances for them, calling them over to anything he found worth eating, keeping a watchful eye. When I look at him now I still think about how small he must have felt out there in that bush, night after night, alone.

None of this needed to happen. The people who bred these birds and discarded them like rubbish made that choice. And the councils, organisations and authorities who continue to pass the buck rather than take responsibility are making a choice too.

Quinn was one of the lucky ones. Most roosters who are dumped will never have a David who notices them, an Isy who keeps coming back, or a Fifi to coax them to safety. They will die alone in the bush, or on a road, or in the jaws of a predator. Nobody will ever know their personality, their quirks, the way they dance or the sound of their voice.

Nobody will ever know them at all.

Love Catherine x

https://henrescue.org

Hello Friends,

What a weekend it has been. David has been in Melbourne visiting family and I have never cared for so many animals with such an intense and complicated medication routine on my own before.

My average bedtime was 1am. On Friday night the electricity tripped and I spent from 1am until 3am trying to find the problem. It still isn’t fixed, but I have quite the elaborate system of extension cords coming from the outside power points to keep the washing machine and fridge going. I have done four loads of poopy animal blankets today, trying to catch up. The glamour!

Despite the chaos, Friday night brought some very exciting new arrivals and I want to start there because meeting them made every sleepless moment worth it.

I was so grateful to Isy and Bec for transporting the newbies to meet our long-distance transport volunteer, Jacinta, who brought the whole crew all the way from the Central Coast to the Mid North Coast. Jacinta has done many long trips for us. She is a vital part of the team. Tye and Claire then met Jacinta and brought the gang the rest of the way to me. What a great team effort!

If you feel you could help with transport from Sydney or the Central Coast to Coffs Harbour or Grafton, please do let me know. We reimburse fuel and are already planning the next lot of animals that need to come here. Jacinta can’t do the trip every week so we really need more help. I can sort out a motel if it enables you to help, so please email and let me know if you can.

Gemma, Valerie… and a very happy Toby

Some of you will have read about Gemma and Valerie in Wednesday’s newsletter. They were abandoned in a box by a main road in Sydney. Both girls have reproductive disease.

When I first saw Gemma’s photo from the vet, I was scared she might not make it. So when she arrived at the hen haven I could not believe how much better she looked already. The suprelorin implant is working its magic. Bec did such an amazing job fostering them and administering their meds, and it really shows.

I introduced the girls to Toby, who was dumped by a motorway, and Maura, who was found dumped with sore legs. The four are getting along very well and Toby is beyond thrilled to have girlfriends at last.

He is such a sweet boy, but sadly his time by the motorway has left lasting damage.

He still cannot perch and the fishing line that was wrapped around his leg has left thick scar tissue. His comb is purple in places from the ticks that were removed after his rescue. To see him happy with the girls is just a dream.

Gemma is full of energy. She loves to scratch in the dirt and is always the first up to the camera when I’m taking a photo of them. She and Valerie mostly stick together, as they are such firm friends.

Seven New Girls Join the Flock

We welcomed seven girls who were surrendered by a woman named Huda who had rescued them from a neglect situation. The girls had been living with Huda’s parents, and as they were moving, the hens had to be rehomed. Huda was so upset as she loved the girls.

Two of the beauties were already named by Huda: Beyonce and her daughter Cinnamon. Beyonce is just like her namesake, a real show stopper! When she was lifted out of the carrier it was almost as if she expanded as her feathers fluffed out even further. She looks like a female version of our handsome, disabled rooster, Harry. Cinnamon is a beauty too, and they clearly adore each other.

They are, however, a little bossy with other hens! So I have kept them together but away from the others. They are now living with Albert, who has been desperate for girlfriends for ages. We will need to build a bigger enclosure for the trio, but for now they are having a grand old time dust bathing together and not having the stress of having to bring other hens into line! Thankfully they have not bullied Albert at all and he is very sweet to them.

I am yet to name the other girls (time to get the baby name book out again) . They are living down the field, with Peter. He is the rooster I told you about last week who was dumped and then attacked by a dog. He is almost fully recovered from his tail amputation and is in seventh heaven with all these beautiful ladies.

These five hens do have some health issues. One girl has quite severe swelling around her abdomen and will need an implant. All five have bumble foot to varying degrees and they also have scaly leg mites.

Their rescuer had been treating them for the mites but there is still a long way to go. Bumble foot is a painful foot infection often caused by pressure sores or being kept in an unsuitable environment, and if left untreated it can spread to the bone, so I must get started on treatment straight away.

And Then Came Roger…

His name was originally Ginger Rogers, because the kind people who found him in Castle Hill thought he was a girl. When he began to crow they shortened it to Ginger. Since we already have a very big personality pig named Ginger, I asked if we could call him Roger instead.

The people who found him were really upset that they couldn’t keep him. Not only are they in suburbia but one also has a severe respiratory allergy to birds.

They had tried contacting fifteen organisations including the council, the RSPCA and many sanctuaries looking for help, but no one could take him. I had told them we were full and we truly are, but when they got back to me saying literally everyone had said no, I wanted to help.

They were not breeders discarding roosters or a pre school running a hatching project. They were kind people who found a dumped rooster and did the right thing. So Roger arrived.

What a sweetie he is. I have since trimmed the feathers that fall over his eyes. Okay so he may not look quite as trendy as in the pic above, but at least he can see.

I haven’t yet found a daytime spot for him and I think we will have to build him an area. As I said, we really are full of roosters.

For the time being he is enjoying a lot of time in the house with me. He is used to a bit of pampering from his rescuers, so he’s quite happy to be around people. I also discovered he is a lover of grapes, which seems to be a common theme among our new arrivals.

Little Wren, and the Cuddles We Both Needed

I felt bad this weekend because, with David away, I had so little time and Wren, our ex-meat industry rooster, got way fewer cuddles than usual. This is a big problem for Wren as he is a cuddle bug.

I will be writing a full piece about him soon because you simply must be given the opportunity to appreciate him. He is the snuggliest, sweetest heart in the world.

Wren looks like a fully grown chicken but he is still cheeping like a chick. To think he would have been slaughtered already if he hadn’t fallen off that truck is just sickening. And to think of all the others who were just as desperate for love, cuddles and comfort and never got it is monstrous.

I am so grateful this boy is in our lives.

Thankfully David has arrived home, so Wren is back in prime cuddle position where he belongs.

Plum and Marigold Urgently Need a Foster Carer

Speaking of babies, I am preparing to welcome two more little hens next weekend, but I urgently need a foster carer to look after them for the next week until they can come to me.

Plum and Marigold are the sisters of Sage, who was found roaming in Enmore 2.5 weeks ago with severe fowl pox and a respiratory infection.

A few days ago, I received a call from a woman who had been given my number. At first, I didn’t realise who she was, but it quickly became clear that she was actually Sage’s previous guardian.

She had bought Sage, Plum and Marigold just a few weeks ago and got in touch the other day because she had heard Sage had ended up with me. From what I understand, Plum and Marigold had been unwell for some time before that, and unfortunately had not received veterinary care early on.

Chickens are incredibly good at hiding illness, so by the time symptoms become obvious, they can already be very sick. Early vet treatment can make such a difference to their chances of recovery, which is why it’s always so important to act as soon as something seems off.

I gave her a list of all the meds Sage was on, and asked her to take them to a vet. She decided to surrender the girls so they could receive the care they deserve. She agreed to transport them to Centennial Park Vets where they were surrendered. Dr. Peter once again stepped up to help, even though we didn’t yet have a foster carer lined up.

Poor Marigold was in a really bad way.

They have both been started on multiple medications, and I’m really hoping Marigold can pull through and eventually they can both be reunited with their sister, Sage.

The problem is, we still don’t have a foster carer lined up, and I’m not sure how much longer the vet can keep them there.

If you are around Sydney or the Central Coast and feel you could foster these bubs until next weekend, please let me know. They would need to be kept inside as they are very vulnerable to predators, and their meds would need to be administered. If you don’t know how to do this, I can teach you.

Your set up could be as simple as a bathroom or a laundry with a blanket in a carrier for nighttime.

Please get in touch if you can help.

The Motorway Rooster Situation (Serenity Now!)

I contacted both the council and Transport for NSW about the rooster dumping crisis at a mid north coast motorway rest stop. This is the stop where Peter and 10 others were abandoned. I asked for signage warning that dumping animals is illegal and for CCTV to be installed. I asked that at the very minimum, contractors please leave our water bowls rather than throwing them away.

The council said it wasn’t their problem and advised us to contact the RSPCA. Transport for NSW said exactly the same. Since when was the RSPCA responsible for signage at motorway rest stops? I asked whether, if we installed our own signs, they would agree not to take them down. They ignored that entirely.

Rooster dumping is a nationwide epidemic and no single organisation can tackle the problem alone. But simple signs have been proven to make a real difference. Yet every department just passes the buck. It feels like these people truly do not give a flying fudge about animals.

The three last roosters dumped at that spot are still missing, and I have no doubt more will be abandoned there unless action is taken.

Even though I was expecting those replies, they still made me feel so sad.

But Isy and I will keep pushing. I should mention Isy is going through the same process attempting to get signs down near Wollongong at a known rooster dumping hot spot. She is running into the exact same road blocks.

A Big Thank You!

None of what we do would be possible without our hen heroes. Your donations and support make the biggest difference in the world, which is why it means so much when you donate or become a paid subscriber. Thank you!

I am so grateful to everyone who donated over the last couple of newsletters or who made the kind decision to become a paid subscriber. It was wonderful to receive that support. I’m sorry I am taking ages to sort out the donation receipts. I promise I will get to it soon. Poor Izzy can’t send them out, if I haven’t made the time to tell her who to send them to. Sorry Izzy! If the animals could just give me a moment!

And don’t forget, if you can foster Plum and Marigold for a few days or volunteer as a transport driver, please reply or email me at admin@henrescue.org. I’m desperate to expand our lovely little volunteer team as it is just too much strain on the same people all the time.

Thanks for spending this time with me and the animals.

Love Catherine x

P.S. If you haven’t made a donation recently and would like to, here is the link: https://henrescue.org/donate.

Or you can become a paid subscriber on Substack, which would make me absolutely thrilled to bits. And if you already have, thank you, thank you, thank you!

I was starting the morning medications when the email came.

A woman was asking for urgent help. Her children had brought home two hens they had found beside a busy road in Five Dock.

When I asked for more information, she mentioned an upsetting detail.

The hens had been left in a cardboard box with a handwritten sign taped to the side.

It said:

“Free hens.”

But there was something even more worrying in the woman’s message.

“One is not looking 100%.”

I immediately began to figure out how we could help them. Dr Peter from Centennial Park Vets had recently helped us with discounted desexing for our rescued bunny, Max. He was so lovely with Max and was very supportive of rescue. He had mentioned he may be able to help with chickens.

Would he be willing to take the hens straight away while I searched for a foster carer?

He didn’t hesitate.

I called the woman and told her there was a vet only twenty minutes away who could see the hens.

She told me she was at work and had left the hens in a cardboard box in her garden. There was no way she could go home to collect them.

Even when placed in the shade, a cardboard box can quickly heat up. I knew we needed to get them out of there as quickly as possible.

I called Gemma, our wonderful new bunny foster carer, and asked if there was any chance she could help.

I want to take a moment here to say a huge thank you to Gemma. She had never been part of a chicken rescue. But she got straight in the car, because she cares about animals.

When she arrived, another woman was there to meet her outside the house. It seemed she had been asked to be there, and she mentioned she had seen a post about the hens on a local community page.

The person who had abandoned them had written that the hens were free because they were no longer laying eggs. Gosh, no matter how many times I hear things like that, I am always so disappointed in humans.

The children who found them had not seen that post. They had simply noticed the hens beside the road and brought them home because they were worried about them.

Gemma and the other woman rushed down the side of the house into the garden.

The box was sitting in the shade.

But when Gemma placed her hand inside, she felt one of the hens fall heavily onto her side.

One of the harder parts of running a rescue from the Northern Rivers is moments like this one. When an animal needs help urgently and I can’t get there myself. We’re up here because it’s the only way we can afford the space the animals need, and most of the time I wouldn’t change that for anything. But when a sick hen is sitting in a box in someone’s garden in Sydney, the distance feels enormous. That is why I am so grateful for people like Gemma.

When she opened the box she found a white hen laying on her side, appearing to be near death.

Beside her stood a brown hen, watching her friend.

Gemma didn’t waste a second.

She rushed the white hen to the front of the car so the full strength of the air conditioning could reach her, and then placed the brown hen safely in the back, and drove straight to the vet.

I called ahead to let the clinic know she was coming.

When she arrived twenty minutes later, Dr. Peter was already waiting outside.

He immediately rushed the white hen into the clinic.

The vet confirmed she had severe egg peritonitis that had clearly been left untreated for a very long time. Her abdomen was swollen, and she could only stand for a few seconds before collapsing again. The pressure of all the extra fluid was pressing against her internal organs and air sacs.

Her back end was covered in thick green and brown sludge.

Combined with the stress of the morning, I was amazed she was still with us.

Her friend, thankfully, was in much better condition and simply needed time to recover from the ordeal.

I named the white hen Gemma, after the woman who rushed to rescue her.

Her brown friend became Valerie, a name meaning strength and health. I hope she will be the strong companion Gemma needs as she recovers.

At the vet, Gemma had 900 ml of fluid drained from her abdomen. She was given antibiotics, a suprelorin implant and pain relief and stayed overnight at the clinic.

The following afternoon a wonderful emergency foster carer named Bec collected the girls.

Bec has adopted hens from us before, but this is her first time fostering and she has been incredible.

She set the hens up in a spare bedroom so Gemma could rest safely. She gently bathed the dried muck from Gemma’s feathers and began administering her medications.

She created a small outdoor pen where the girls could scratch during the day, without worrying about the other rescued hens. I really can’t thank her enough.

Gemma is still very sick.

But yesterday something happened that gave me hope.

Bec sent me a short video.

In it, Gemma is scratching in the dirt.

After everything she has been through, seeing her scratch in the dirt was a joy.

Gemma and Valerie arrive at the Hen Haven on Friday and I cannot wait to meet them properly. After everything they’ve been through, I want them to know they are home. That no one will ever put them in a cardboard box again.

I also want to thank our transport volunteer, Jacinta, who will be bringing the girls up to us. Without people willing to donate their time like this, so much of what we do wouldn’t be possible.

Rescues like this one only happen because of a whole network of people who care: Peter, Gemma, Bec, our transport volunteers, and everyone who has donated lately. It genuinely feels like a team effort, and I am so grateful for every single one of you.

If you’d like to help us keep saying yes to animals like Gemma and Valerie, you can support NSW Hen Rescue by making a donation: https://henrescue.org/donate

Or you can become a paid Substack subscriber.

And if you already have then thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Lots of love
Catherine x

P.S I have mentioned a number of times lately how the chicken dumping epidemic in Australia is totally out of control. Soon I will write to you about what we are doing to tackle the problem and will also share some hopeful news from another organisation who are also working on this issue.

Lately it has felt like we’ve been living in permanent emergency mode.

Every time we posted on social media, about rescuing a dumped rooster, the messages would start pouring in. Emails. Facebook messages. Photos of more roosters and the occasional hens dumped all across NSW.

And every time we heard about them, we desperately wanted to help.

But in the whirlwind of rescues, we were unable to step back and tackle the bigger problem.

Last week, one of the roosters we had been trying to help was hit by a car on the motorway, and killed. We weren’t there when it happened, but Isy found his body and gave him as respectful a burial as was possible at the side of the road.

It was heartbreaking and it hammered home how badly things need to change.

It is time to reset and figure out how to tackle this animal dumping crisis rather than constantly reacting to it.

Because the emergencies never stop.

A different place for the animals’ stories

So for now, we’ve made the decision to step away from social media.

Instead, I’m going back to something that has always felt more natural to me: writing to you directly.

From now on I’ll be sharing stories from NSW Hen Rescue on Substack.

I am painfully close to burn out, and if I want to continue this path of dedicating my life to the animals, something has to give. And that something is social media (for now at least).

As a society, we have been trained to have such short attention spans. As a rescue, we find ourselves only able to reach people with the most dramatic animal rescue content. We want to share their stories. Every single animal deserves to have their story told. But it feels like we always have to bow down to the ever changing algorithm and the advice of the influencers…

‘Don’t forget to grab the viewer in the first three seconds and for goodness sake, please keep it under a minute long!’

And if we don’t? Well, no one sees the stories.

We have found that after the latest meta changes, donations and rehoming applications have dropped dramatically. It makes sense, since content is pushed out to new people, as opposed to the supporters who have chosen to follow us.

That, combined with the harsh and constant feedback of social media, doesn’t make for good mental health long-term. It is a distraction from the beautiful animals right in front of us and the rescue work that needs to be done. It is a constant reminder of the society we live in where ‘Yum, chicken,’ jokes, on a photo of a dumped rooster is the norm.

I remember when I was 16 and first started volunteering at my local animal sanctuary. They updated their supporters with a monthly newsletter. It was a double sided piece of A4, printed out at the library and sent one by one via snail mail. I wish you could’ve felt how overjoyed I was when the founder, Jo, wrote that me and my friend, Melissa were ‘Angels in Wellies.’ It meant so much more than if that were a post on social media.

We’re not going all the way back to snail mail, as much as part of me loves that idea. Instead, you’ll receive two emails a week. The first is just like my usual newsletters, our Scoop from the Coop.

It is a letter to you, the supporters; the rare humans who actually care about the animals most people deem unworthy. I will keep updating you on my life as the founder of NSW Hen Rescue, as well as the animals’ stories and what is coming up next for the hen rescue.

The second email will tell a more in depth story of one of our rescued family, a recent rescue or perhaps an idea from the world of activism and rescue that I am keen to explore with you. Both will include photos and the odd video of the ones this is all about… the animals.

In addition, Substack has a feature called Notes, which are short posts where we can share photos, videos and little moments from the sanctuary that might not always make it into the Scoop from the Coop. Apparently I could even leave you voice notes! You poor things. My friends already suffer enough from listening to those.

So if you ever feel like an extra dose of much loved chickens, pigeons, rabbits or pigs, that’s where you’ll find them. But if you don’t fancy that, there is no need to do anything different. You can simply receive the emails, in your inbox.

I have so many animal stories to update you on, and the first of those will be coming next week. You are going to adore our new feathered family members.

As I sit here writing this, a tiny baby hen, named Sage, is sitting beside me. She was found wandering in Enmore and I can’t wait for you to meet her. She had terrible infected sores and a nasty respiratory infection, but as soon as she was rescued by a kind young man named Ky, her sweet personality shone through.

It feels like I’ve practically been living at the vets and we are definitely feeling the pressure on our funds.

But because of the support of this community, we were able to say yes to animals who needed urgent help. Even small donations help us keep saying yes when the next emergency call comes.

How you helped

Because of the support of this community:

• We were able to buy new chicken coops, giving five teenage chickens dumped near a local swimming spot a safe place to sleep tonight. They have that gangly teenage look with big legs, big appetites and big personalities. Their names are Kit, Koda, Bruce, Bryan and Rocky. We still need more coops, but this was a great start.

• A rooster named Peter received an emergency tail amputation after he was dumped at a motorway rest stop and then attacked by a dog. Now he moves as if he was never injured at all. He may look a bit different from before, but we think he is the most handsome boy in the world.

• Sage the baby hen with fowl pox, and Gemma and Valerie, hens who were dumped by a main road, were all able to receive urgent veterinary care.

• Shane the rooster and his brother (and BFF) Gary were rescued after being dumped near a return and earn. Shane received vet care for his injured leg and both now enjoy their own coop. They are both so terrified of humans, I hate to think what they have been through.

• Max the bunny was desexed and vaccinated after being found dumped. He is now with the most wonderful bunny foster carer as he waits for his perfect forever home.

• Connie, an ex-battery hen and Maura, a hen dumped in Sydney, were both given suprelorin implants for reproductive disease.

And they are just some of the animals you have helped us to save recently.

Thank you for making these rescues possible.

If you would like to help us keep saying yes to animals in need, donations towards vet care, new enclosures, and rescue costs make an enormous difference.

https://henrescue.org/donate

I hope you understand the need for us to step away from social media. It may not be permanent, but it is the right decision for now.

If you feel like writing back or commenting, I’d genuinely love to hear from you. Have you ever stepped away from social media or something that was draining your energy?

Lots of love
Catherine

P.S We are still on YouTube as NSW Hen Rescue and will be adding videos from time to time.