In the complex spectrum of human animal emotions, there is nothing that evokes more emotion, challenges perspectives and raises  more troubling questions about boundaries and perspective than the epidemic rescue and saving of animals. I have always been wary of it, because there is so much anger, self-righteousness and exploitation in the use of animals to make human beings feel better about themselves and superior to other people. Day after day, I meet people who claim their animals have been abused or mistreated, even when they could not possibly know if it is so. There seems a profound need for humans to love abused creatures, while study after study finds such abuse of companion animals is vastly overstated and exaggerated. Shelters workers know the quickest way to move an animal out of a facility and into a home is to suggest abuse. So many people would prefer to own an abused dog than a well-treated one, an amazing reality in the history of humans and companion animals.

There is much anger, judgement and hostility surrounding notions of saving animals from the deprivations of human beings, of nature, and of one another. There is no greater or obsessive hole to plunge into than animal rescue, since there are countless numbers of animals all around us in need of rescue, few limits on what we can or should do to save them. And there are so many good and generous people stretching themselves to the limit to take care of animals in need, nurse them back to health, and support groups and organizations that help them. It is an emotional and moral thorn bush.

I know that rescuing animals does not make one a good person. I do not accept the idea that people who do not love dogs or cats or horses cannot be trusted, do not have souls, or are somehow inferior. I do not believe animals should be used a a club to hammer, attack or abuse human beings. When I had the greatest number of rescue and other animals on my farm – goats, donkeys, dogs, steers – I was at my worst as a human being, angry, selfish, obsessive and disconnected.

I do not ever want my care of animals to justify turning anger on people, or judging them, and for this reason I do not refer to Izzy, Frieda or Simon  or my cats as rescue animals. They do not see themselves in that way, and the only reason I would use the term  is to make myself look good or feel good. Izzy does now know what a rescue is, and Simon does not see himself as abused.  I have come to see that helping animals like Fran and Simon and Frieda has changed me. Opened me up. Helped me become more human. Taught me about love and mercy. But wiping a chickens’ butt does not make me a hero,  better than you or anybody else.

For me, working to be a good person occurs outside of the lives and care of chickens and other animals in need. If it comes for me, it will come through the difficult and painstaking work of therapy, spiritual searching, healthy personal relationships and a life lived with meaning and fulfillment. No chicken can do that for me, how many times I wipe her butt.