I spent Mother’s Day weekend at our sanctuary in Watkins Glen, New York. In Spring, the farm is abuzz with tours and visitors. When I arrived, tractors and trucks were moving hay and repairing fences. The rolling hills were adorned with blossoming flowers and trees. It smelled like petrichor – the earthy, slightly electrical smell of soil after it rains. It was a canvas of color, lush and alive. I could see the pigs frolicking in the field, and I felt instantly lighter. 

Anyone who has visited can attest Watkins Glen is more than just a sanctuary; it is a haven that can heal. Its transformative power soothes the soul and restores a sense of peace. It reminds us of the beauty of nature—the extraordinary diversity of life—and the possibility of a kinder world.   

But each time I visit, I am also struck by its dual nature. While sanctuary is a reminder of the best of mankind, it is also a stark reminder of the extremes of human behavior. By being its opposite, sanctuary illuminates the worst of what man is capable of. It sheds light on the lies we tell ourselves about how we impact the world, our environment, and the animals we share this planet with. It is a poignant reminder of the horrors of our food system—a food system that causes suffering for billions of animals every year, harms our health, fuels climate change, and perpetuates inequity and social injustice on a global scale.

Saturday started at 8 AM when I met Christie, an extraordinary caregiver whose path to veganism is profound and inspiring. I have rarely met someone with so much inner strength and outward kindness. Who radiates compassion, empathy, and joy. She exemplifies what I love about Farm Sanctuary.

Christie had agreed to let me shadow her for the day. She was already at Melrose Small Animal Hospital when I arrived, mixing individual meals for residents and gathering treats and supplies for our shift.  She had a list of who liked what: Apples and vegetables for Mia pig and her children, strawberries for Hal goat, and other favorite treats, medicines, and meals for the dozens of residents at the sanctuary we would encounter on our shift. 

While Christie provisioned us for the day, she asked me to help with Thurston, a gentle rooster who needed respiratory support. I donned a hospital gown, a necessary protocol to ensure the containment of bird flu, and then sat on the floor on a blanket with a nebulizer. Christie gently lifted Thurston and placed him by my side, where he quickly leaned into me, relaxing. I could feel his heartbeat slow as he put his head into the nebulizer. His trust in me was humbling. His soft feathers rose with his breath as he inhaled the medicine that hopefully gave him some relief. 

Thurston passed away not long after I met him. I like to think he was comforted by the extraordinary love and care of the team in his last days.

T.S. Eliot wrote, “Humankind cannot bear much reality.” I’ve always loved that quote. Humans have a remarkable capacity to ignore the truth and live as if our actions do not define us or have consequences.  But on Mother’s Day weekend, as Christie and I cleaned the water bowls and fed the pigs, that quote took on a deeper meaning. Christie told me Mia’s story as we worked in the pig barn:

Mia pig is a former breeder pig who found refuge at Farm Sanctuary after enduring unspeakable cruelty.   Workers tried to move Mia to another pen so she could give birth. But Mia had endured this ordeal many times before. She was angry, hurt, and heartbroken. After having litter after litter of her children torn away from her to be slaughtered for meat, this time, she refused to move. The workers jabbed her, using an electric prod, until one of the workers, realizing how horrific this situation was, apparently had a change of heart. Mia was rescued along with her children, and they now live as a family with us in Watkin Glen, forever free from harm.   

As Christie entered Mia’s area, she told me it took months to earn Mia’s trust. Knowing that this fiercely loving mother would protect her children if she sensed they might be harmed, Christie was careful and respectful. Meanwhile, Mia watched me, giving me what the team calls Mia’s “side-eye,” keeping tabs on me. As a mom myself, Mia’s instinct to nurture and safeguard her children hit me hard on Mother’s Day weekend. What wouldn’t I do for my own child? How unimaginable it would be to have her wrenched away from me after she was born. The industry shields us from these stories because it is better if we do not know the reality of how farmed animals like Mia suffer behind closed doors.

Later, I spent time with our amazing vet tech, Ariel, and our extraordinary caregivers, Hannah and Leah, as they and Christie worked together to do health checks at the goat and sheep barn. The team gently approached the residents, knowing each by name and personality. They held the residents, feeling their spines to determine if they were at a healthy weight, swabbing their eyes to keep them clean, and tending to any problems they may find. Leah sat with Hal, an older goat who lists to the right when he walks and needs to lean against the wall to stand. She fed him strawberries from her hand since he has no teeth, enticing him to eat, offering him an array of nutritious choices. She held his bowls up off the barn floor to make reaching the food easier. 

The care, passion, and knowledge of these extraordinary caregivers is simply stunning.

I have had the chance to work with the Farm Sanctuary team for almost two years now. Before joining this team, I had spent my entire career working at nonprofits, and only a few stand out as authentic and rooted in the passion of the work. Farm Sanctuary is rooted in the belief that enduring change is possible, no matter how hard the struggle. Few nonprofits have the commitment, perseverance, and grit to make lasting change a reality. In my experience, all the institutions that have that strength put their mission first and have passionate, professional, proactive, and resilient people at their core.

On Mother’s Day weekend, I witnessed a living example of a more just and compassionate world. I was reminded that Farm Sanctuary is one of those rare institutions—capable of changing the world.

With gratitude and hope,

Ellen