Magic

Magic was rescued from the same backyard breeder as Amalthea, both were sick. Amalthea had a respiratory infection and Magic had an impacted crop that was so huge that is was impossible for a person to not see something was wrong. Magic’s crop was full of grass and it was blocking her crop and stopping her digestive system from working. Magic had surgery at Burwood Bird Vet in Melbourne to clear her crop and is now a healthy girl living with her turkey family, Quinn and Amalthea.

Photo above is Magic just after rescue with her huge impacted crop.

Magic is a sweet girl who likes people. She also has a distinct love of water and you can find her next to the water troughs, clam shell pools and water bowls swishing water about everywhere. She is a big talker. On the two and a half hour drive up to the farm, she did not stop talking once, not once!

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Amalthea

Amalthea was rescued from a terrible backyard breeder back in October, 2016. She was very sick with a respiratory infection and very wary of people. She is a lavender turkey who looks like she is from a magical planet beyond our understanding and for that reason I named her, Amalthea, after the character in “The Last Unicorn” who is trapped in the body of a beautiful unicorn. Her nickname is “Unicorn” and “Silver”.

Amalthea lives with Magic and Quinn, the Lefty’s Place turkey family.

When she first arrived, Quinn was besotted with her. He followed her everywhere doing his special turkey man dance. To this day, Amalthea is still quite unimpressed with his dancing skills and prefers to be an independant woman. Quinn, however, is still very much in love with this beautiful lady and will wait all day for her whilst she sits on her nest.

Amalthea still doesn’t like people. She’s now 100 percent healthy and enjoying every part of her life.

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Whistler

She was rescued from an abattoir on the night of December 1, 2016. I met her the next day. My friends popped in, on their way to rehome the previous night’s rescue hens and we noticed that one of the poor, emaciated, featherless girls was struggling to breathe. She stood in the corner of the car stretching her neck up and out, struggling for each breath. We took her out of the car and gave her some medication. We discussed her options. She couldn’t be rehomed like this and we were pretty convinced she would pass away that day as she was just so sick. I took her inside and made her comfortable. If she died, at least she could die in peace in a comfortable bed, that was my thinking.

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She spent the next few weeks in a crate in my bedroom. She barely ate or drank. She spent all of her energy trying to breathe. All day and all night I listened to her little lungs whistle out and in what breaths she could take. Whistle, whistle, whistle. It’s no mystery why I named her “Whistler”. Each day I wondered if she’d get through. I’d watch and wait and give support and medications to help her through. She just kept fighting. She just kept taking every breath with all of her energy until one day it got easier. About 3 weeks after her rescue, she started to get better. She decided she’d like to try walking and then she decided she’d like to try running and then all of a sudden, her crate was just too small for her and she demanded more space, so it was time for her to go outside in a quarantine space and it’s there that she had her first ever dust bath.

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My vet saw Whistler and she said that Whistles had been suffering from Infectious laryngotracheitis (ILT) which is a highly contagious respiratory disease with a mortality rate of 70 percent. When I took her in to the vet clinic she was quite bad and I asked the question “would it be kinder to have her put to sleep?” to which my vet replied with “She’s fought this long. Let her live” and we both nodded. She had fought through 18 months in the cage egg farm. She had survived depopulation and arrived at the abattoir and she’d survived a terrible case of ILT. She should be given a chance to keep fighting and she has fought herself to a place where she now runs around all day, she eats oats like there is no tomorrow and she dust bathes every day – just like all chickens should be able to.

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Whistler (aka ‘Whistles”, “The Whistler” or “Whistly”) was determined to live. She was determined to see the sky and eat grass. She just wanted to live with her freedom, like they all do.

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Celestial

Her head was down when we looked in to her transport crate at the abattoir last night. She looked squashed and nearly dead. We watched through the crate thinking she was dead, until she moved. It was a difficult crate to open, it was impossible to open actually. A bar stopped us from opening the crate out to free her. We had to get her out, but we had to do it another way. I pulled down on the crate top with all my might, whilst my friend reached in to the 2 inch slot to try and get her out. I pulled down on the plastic crate, she desperately squeezed this poor hen through the tiny slot between the crates stacked on top of each other.

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This poor girl was so sick, so so sick that when we finally squeezed her through that slot, she regurgitated all her soured crop contents all over me.

Her body was broken. She was weak. She was grasping to every last piece of strength she had to stay alive. As the supermoon looked down on us all, this poor girl was using all of her super power and energy to stay alive. Her name was Celeste (aka Celestial) and she wanted to live.

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Celeste was a battery hen. She had lived the 18 months of her life in a small cage with 5 other hens. She just stood there in a cage all day long, in a huge shed filled with other small cages filled with miserable hens stacked on top of each other. We do this to hens so we can eat the eggs their bodies produce. We basically turn them in to no-one, nothing by treating them as commodities.

Sadly we lost Celeste about a week after rescue. We thought she was improving, but she went downhill quite rapidly one morning and decided to head for the stars. At least she experience some kindness in her sad life.

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 All around the world, egg laying hens are treated as nothing, as mere waste.

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Moonlight

Moonlight.

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She was rescued from the abattoir the night before the Super Moon in November. Why did I pick her? I never really, truly know why I pick some and not others, but I noticed her lovely long neck. There’s always thousands to choose from. Picking a few each time to live at the sanctuary is harder than you think because I always think about the others that made an impression on me once I get home.

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Moonlight now lives in Super Chicken’s flock at Lefty’s Place. It’s taken her a few weeks to become comfortable enough to venture out of her safe area, but she is now loving her life. She is a shy hen who delights in having her own personal time to dust bathe. She is a thinker and prefers to think about her decisions before acting on them.

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Moonlight was rescued the same night as her good friend Moonshadow was.

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