tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-323101932012-01-31T13:46:19.405-07:00A Safe Haven For Rescued Farmed Animals Who Have Been Given A Second Chance At LifeJoanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comBlogger321100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-75194523398004868032012-01-31T13:06:00.002-07:002012-01-31T13:46:19.416-07:00

This is all you saw at first, or maybe this is all that your mind could take in at one time -- not a whole picture, but manageable bits and fragments. You saw a large, white shape lumped by the side of the road. You saw an angular jumble of legs, knees, knuckles, elbows, hooves and ribs. You saw a broken, emaciated body whose breathing was so shallow as to be virtually indistinguishable from the

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-46075841429024989492010-11-10T12:31:00.001-07:002010-11-19T23:45:43.533-07:00

Ian walked with his brothers only as far as the open gate, teetering slightly behind them in his usual hesitant way, two steps forward one step back. He watched them go on their treks in the open fields, from the safe side of the fence, lingering at the invisible, self-imposed barrier long after they disappeared from view, gazing into the distance, shifting his weight from foot to foot, taking

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-84728420126925795332010-06-24T07:32:00.011-06:002010-10-14T16:04:14.355-06:00

In German: Ein Platz zum Leben He shows up every morning, this small, slight, inky-eyed child. You can see him teetering across the prairie on his absurdly long legs, toiling across tough, tangled, thistly terrain on his pale hooves, struggling to cross the field that separates the neighboring farm from the sanctuary -- a nub of a child, pushing forth on his spindly bug legs, in his tiny bug

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-31748935975684427152010-02-05T14:00:00.004-07:002010-02-06T04:27:05.826-07:00

The presentation below is a tribute to the sentient heart in all its splendor, folly and grace. It is inspired by the extraordinary lives and loves of the rescued animals at Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary, and it is dedicated to the doomed farmed animals of the world whose misery and death we demand and perpetuate with every nonvegan bite, and whose battered hearts still yearn, to their last breath,

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-18938709904758280112009-06-21T08:16:00.000-06:002010-02-05T22:27:38.793-07:00

It took extraordinary events – a shattering blow, like the loss of her right foot to the wire floor of the "cage-free" egg farm where she was rescued from, or a rapturous release, like her arrival at the sanctuary, or a seismic shift like Louie's absence – to shake, charm, or punish a sound out of Libby. It's not that her voice was frozen in fear, like so many of her fellow refugees. It's not

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-52867793756038373282009-05-15T20:34:00.002-06:002011-04-18T23:20:39.683-06:00

What passed between them transformed them both. Yet, even though it was communicated in close proximity, it grew and flourished in each other's absence. Their most dramatic encounters, the now famous Slow Speed Chases, were not the real exchanges and, for all of their spectacular pageantry, and despite our desire to dwell on them and relive their excitement, they weren't the real story either.

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-33430256800717711692008-10-20T22:17:00.000-06:002010-02-06T00:37:03.390-07:00

It's like the pitter-patter of rain, the sound of their small feet rhythmically tapping, patting, stamping the ground, stirring up dirt in their enthusiastic rush to greet you and follow you around – a soothing, rustling, living sound. They follow you excitedly, flapping their wings, fluffing their feathers, craning their necks the better to behold you.If you stop, they stop too and, with them,

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-28185757034259643462008-05-02T18:53:00.001-06:002011-11-29T01:32:13.065-07:00

In Dutch: Brief uit een veganistische wereld In French: Lettre de la part d’un monde végétalien In German: Brief aus einer veganen Welt In Greek: Γρ?μμα απ? ?ναν vegan κ?σμο In Italian: Una lettera da un mondo vegano In Norwegian: Kjære venner og medaktivister In Romanian: Scrisoare dintr-o Lume Vegana In Spanish: Carta Desde Un Mundo Vegano In Turkish: Vegan Bir Dünyadan Mektup Dear

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-35746363873799034142008-03-17T14:55:00.000-06:002010-02-06T01:17:22.525-07:00

Melvin has been strutting up and down the hallway since dawn, hoisting his enormous body across the 20 step stretch from the kitchen to the front door where he lingers, swaying unsteadily from side to side like a tower of mismatched dishes, gazing expectantly into the driveway, trilling sweet things at it, puffing his chest, arching his wings, looking for something, waiting, stirring, shimmering,

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-52358854620630413892007-11-13T19:29:00.000-07:002010-02-06T01:48:56.614-07:00

Click to see Video In Portuguese: De Volta Para Casa I don't know how they experienced their arrival at the sanctuary – that moment when the van doors opened and the light of day filled their eyes for the first time in their lives – but I know that, for one breathless moment, when we first looked at the 100 souls safely tucked inside, we didn't see the tangled mess of soiled feathers, the open

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-71525130591877378842007-11-13T16:51:00.002-07:002010-11-16T21:00:10.987-07:00

Read the story of the hens' Rescue and their Restoration. If you want to present this video on a large screen, please contact us at peacefulprairiesanctuary@gmail.com and request a high resolution version. When showing The Faces of "Free-Range" Farming, we strongly recommend that it be accompanied by our complementing literature, for complete information on why vegan living is the only humane

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-59630767028576613762007-08-12T15:18:00.000-06:002010-02-06T02:08:03.192-07:00

Before that bad December spell, that stretch of dark days when the fury of three consecutive blizzards left them trapped without heat, food or water in a frozen barn, Libby and Clara had pretty much ignored each other. It's not that they disliked each other, it's just that, other than gender and species, they didn't have much else in common. They were different persons, with different

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-45885802947091651572007-06-13T12:22:00.000-06:002010-02-06T02:09:05.668-07:00

I know why I want to be Hillary's friend. She is interesting, she is gentle, she is beautiful, she is full of being and of happening and full of praise for being and for happening, she is full of knowledge, insights, and subjective experiences I can't even imagine, she is selfless, she is strong, she is subtle, she is brimming with social, emotional and ethical intelligence. I can also guess why

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-82813186561882093692007-05-16T15:33:00.003-06:002011-02-04T14:19:03.050-07:00

In Greek: Το πορτραίτο της Μάρσι... Μια όμορφη ψυχή In German: Portrait von Marcie... einer schönen Seele When Marcie arrived at Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary, she had already lost everything – her freedom, her community, her family, her youth, every baby she had ever had, everyone she had ever loved, everyone she had ever trusted, everything that was familiar. She arrived in this new world with

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-21652694660554195242007-03-20T15:33:00.000-06:002010-02-06T02:14:34.218-07:00

I heard Louise's voice long before I met her in person, commenting along not far away from the phone, actively participating in every conversation, offering comments, reprimands, or just plain merrymaking – joyous, questioning, telling sounds to the world. Because every conversation, regardless of language, was irresistible to her, she showed up whenever others talked – people, turkeys, cats,

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-74566563019265797152007-03-07T12:40:00.000-07:002010-02-06T01:57:27.490-07:00

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-15201820404118842992007-02-25T17:36:00.000-07:002010-02-06T02:20:37.281-07:00

After nearly two months of melting and shoveling, the 5' x 50' snow drift was finally down to bare (mud). Following last night's blizzard, we're back to square one. This morning, the 8' tall barn doors were completely blocked by 8' high snow drifts. All east facing doors are also blocked by floor-to-ceiling drifts, piled on the inside AND the outside of each door. Everyone was trapped inside

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1169755668302007352007-01-25T14:10:00.000-07:002010-02-06T02:23:25.982-07:00

Pigs may "speak" the same emotional language as all other sentients – same desires, same hopes, same loves – but they look like us doing it – wrinkled noses, smiling lips, round cheeks, bare bellies and all – and the feeling of resemblance is probably mutual. They smile, spy, inquire, scold with their eyes, they gape in wonder, they cheat with calculated coolness, they slump in defeat, they

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1167720748225567092007-01-01T23:30:00.000-07:002010-02-06T02:25:23.801-07:00

Two years ago today, Celeste sang for the first time. It was New Year's Day 2005. We had brought her gifts of grapes, which she had received and consumed enthusiastically, practically drinking the grapes off the stems like wine, eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth open to receive the nectar (and to demand more). She loved treats, she loved company, she loved stimulation, she loved novelty and,

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1164320132776901662006-11-23T16:05:00.000-07:002010-02-06T02:26:34.901-07:00

Melvin and I have much to be thankful for. I for one am thankful for Melvin's presence next to me today, for his life, for this moment of connection we are sharing under the wide open sky. And for the luminous memory of his five brothers: George, Stanley, Alfred, Elmer and Archie. As a group, they were a slow motion parade - an extravagant display of panache, moxie, charisma, flamboyance, and

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1163111885243911822006-11-09T16:30:00.000-07:002010-02-06T02:27:48.984-07:00

He felt almost cat-like, rubbing up against the back of my legs. And he followed me around the yard like a devoted dog. And like my cats and dogs, he even bumped his head up against my hand as he stood beside me, requesting that I pet him. And all this affection after only meeting that afternoon. As I walked around the grounds, I could tell he was still following me because I could hear his

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1162239921516148802006-10-30T14:17:00.000-07:002010-02-06T02:31:04.237-07:00

He's easy to spot. He's the cranky, crabby, cantankerous, contentious, contrary, quarrelsome, crazy sonofagoose who "occupied" a corner of the pond yard, appropriated its assets - a broken wheelbarrow, an igloo, and a kiddy pool - hasn't left their side since, and will hiss, honk and spit at anyone who approaches them. He is the goose who does ungoosly things - he will not swim, he will not

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1160159565847122242006-10-06T13:25:00.000-06:002010-02-06T02:33:20.737-07:00

It's hard to say why Cinderella went to the trouble of repeatedly breaking out of the straw-padded "rehab room", dragging her lame leg across the bare floor of a couple of empty rooms, hoisting her aching body from foot-stool, to chair, to dresser, only to roost in front of the only mirror in the house - the vanity mirror.At first, we thought these escapades were her way of signaling to us that

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1159039061764259502006-09-23T14:10:00.000-06:002010-02-06T02:37:22.662-07:00

It is with the utmost pain that we must share this devastating news.  Our beloved Sherman died suddenly and unexpectedly. Right on the heels of the happy news of Bumper’s arrival and acceptance by his new big brothers, Sherman & Justice, tragedy struck. We are paralyzed with grief and are unable to express ourselves right now. So what we ask of you, is to please write a Letter to Sherman. No

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1157484102955891032006-09-05T14:20:00.002-06:002010-03-02T22:06:30.305-07:00

Bumper has arrived and he is even more adorable than we could have imagined. His angelic face is only matched by his tender innocence and delightful personality.  In Bumper's six short months on this earth, he has changed the lives of Maya and her mother, Nina, - they are going Vegan! - thereby saving countless other lives.  We received this email the day after Maya and her father drove Bumper

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1157133893697404352006-09-01T01:03:00.001-06:002010-03-02T22:01:54.078-07:00

Great News!!! This weekend, we will be welcoming the newest member of our PPS family, a six month old steer named Bumper. Bumper, the 6 month old steer, will be arriving at his new and forever home, PPS, this Saturday.  He was going to be a 4-H project which would have ended with him being sold for slaughter at less than 2 years old.   Thankfully, 12 year old Maya recognized the hypocrisy and

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1156790636553147072006-08-28T13:40:00.000-06:002010-02-06T02:48:27.923-07:00

We called her Sweetie. We don't know what she called herself but, to us humans, she evoked the tenderness, vulnerability, innocence and wonder exuded by those we feel compelled to cradle with terms of reassurance and endearment. Sweetie was one of the 700 chickens rescued from the wreckage of a massive Mississippi "broiler" farm destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. When she and 200 other rescued

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1156198728154951912006-08-21T17:40:00.000-06:002010-02-06T02:50:23.860-07:00

Wow!  What a pleasant surprise we had Sunday afternoon, when Anchorman Mitch Jelniker of Denver's ABC station Channel 7 showed up at our gate. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon and several of our most dedicated and supportive volunteers had come out to the sanctuary to lend a hand and treat the animals to carrots, chin scratches, and lots-o-lovin. We soon discovered that Peaceful Prairie

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1155669281525028082006-08-15T14:15:00.000-06:002010-02-06T02:51:54.126-07:00

Michael has been a Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary Icon for years now. He has graced the home page of PeacefulPrairie.org since it’s its inception.  Visitors to the sanctuary have been greeted by him and welcomed into his herd once he checks them out and gives them the final approval with his firm face rub to their bodies.  Michael was a born leader, but his ability to offer his leadership to a herd

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1155327341621568482006-08-11T14:05:00.000-06:002010-02-06T02:53:20.791-07:00

Petunia and Oscar have the right idea. Throughout the day, they go around and tip over all of the fresh water troughs. Then they flop, slip, and slosh until they have wiggled into a perfect customized form fitting mudhole. Ahhhh...Of course, there is "Mudhole Etiquette" that must be followed. For starters, no matter how carefully young Oscar has prepared the perfect mudhole, if matronly Petunia

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1155069172937267332006-08-08T15:30:00.000-06:002010-02-06T02:58:54.656-07:00

This morning we awoke to a Cacophony of Cock-a-doodle-doos. Chris was first to get out of bed and out the door to open the barns and houses. As the doors swing open, a flurry of feathers come rushing out to greet the morning sun. All of the birds LOVE a morning after a midnight rainstorm. The grasses are wet and bugs are abundant. New growth is freshly sprouted too... just waiting to be

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32310193.post-1154976133242711602006-08-07T12:40:00.000-06:002007-08-14T15:30:31.162-06:00

Here, you can meet the amazing individuals who are fortunate enough to call Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary home. They come in all different sizes, shapes, and speak many languages...but one language is understood by all...the language of love, happiness, peace, and freedom. The residents of Peaceful Prairie came to us knowing nothing but fear, pain, stress, and loneliness. PPS allows rescued farmed

Joanna Lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09303744193282166871noreply@blogger.com