Great escapes by animals saving their own bacon
THE weather has veered between dreary and bone-cold these past weeks, freezing fog falling densely over this country town at times. Yet folk have reported sunshine and clear skies just a 15-minute drive from here.
That contrast is a welcome reminder that, when the world seems a wintry wasteland, life can be lovelier just a few miles away. Meaning, in theory, that you can escape.
It’s a privilege we can take for granted. But animals also like to break for the border, as a racing pigeon roughing it around town reminds me. Clearly, feelings were not mutual for the fancier of Little Flying Fauntleroy.
Though there’s an enormous difference between that feathered fugitive’s escapade and the excruciating circumstances prompting the great escapes of farm animals. Like the sheep running amok outside an abattoir in east London that amused a young Charlie Chaplin so much - until the poor creature was finally caught. That moment crystallised for the comic icon how often humour is underlined by tragic horror.
For as the Buddha said: ‘All beings tremble before violence. All love life. All fear death.’ He went to add; ‘See yourself in others. Then whom can you hurt?’
But until the answer to that is a unanimous ‘yes’, audacious animals have to take matters into their own hooves or trotters. Like a pig called Lucy who saved her bacon by jumping from a slaughter truck. She now lives in an animal sanctuary in a neighbouring county. While recently one brave bovine dived off a live export ship in Western Australia. He managed to make it ashore and elude authorities, alas for only 24 hours.
There was a happier ‘non-ending’ for a bull that would been better off in a china shop than the slaughterhouse in Queens, New York, where he undoubtedly saw no shortage of red. The NYPD said the “vicious animal” broke loose from a truck on the appropriately named Liberty Boulevard. Happily for him, comedian and former host of the Daily Show, Jon Stewart, rescued him.
Sadly, there is little hope of Santa saving the “hundreds of thousands of sweet creatures that are slaughtered without mercy during this season of peace and goodwill”, as LittleHill Animal Rescue and Sanctuary in Co Kildare refers to the centrepiece of most Irish Christmas dinners.
But thanks to them, one top man is decked out in a Santa Claus red cape instead of roast potatoes and stuffing. “Our wonderful, sweet, friendly, adorable Tommi was due for someone’s dinner table seven years ago, and now lives happily here, putting up with the most dreadful nonsense from our large flock of hens and geese, gracefully and regally and without complaint,” says a spokesperson. “Will you join us and go meat-free this Christmas?”
To do so would mean forsaking a firmly established festive dinner. Who can break free from the tyranny of that tradition?