Nonprofit Profile: Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary

by Stephanie Ernst

Published October 05, 2008 @ 08:02AM PST

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 sores, the broken bones, the chopped off beaks, the mocked lives. All we saw—in one breath of infinite relief and elation—was 100 souls who will go on breathing. And, for one instant, the glow of their living presence obscured everything else—the wreckage we'd made of their lives for our amusement, the despair still engulfing the 50 billion left behind, the darkness of a humanity that imposes untold misery for a taste. . . .

The 100 birds who were now gazing at the open sky for the first time in their lives were industry trash, "spent" hens rescued from a "free-range" egg facility where they had endured a lifetime of physical, social and psychological deprivation, females whose depleted bodies were no longer able to churn out eggs at the unnaturally high rate of production they had been forced to sustain all of their young lives, and were being sent to slaughter to be replaced with a new generation of victims whose bodies would be used up in a fraction of their life span and then mass killed, erased from existence, scrubbed from awareness, not a trace of their earthly existence left over, not a feather, not a song, not a child, not a dream. (Joanna Lucas, "Coming Home," Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary blog; "cage-free" hen photo courtesy of Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary)

Seventy-five miles southeast of Boulder and 55 miles from Denver lie 100-plus acres of sanctuary for the roughly 300 beings who reside there. It is a place where you can find sad stories, healing wounds, and playful frolicking, plus much more. It is home to a motley crew—weathered horns, sensitive snouts, cloven hooves, webbed feet, floppy ears, swinging tails, mutilated beaks, scars both emotional and physical, and big, soulful eyes. The humans know it as Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary. The nonhuman animals know it simply as home and as someplace safe, a place where they receive daily attention, care, and companionship like they never knew before arriving here.

Formed in 1997 by individuals committed to putting everything they had into advocating for animals—providing "reparations to as many egg, dairy, and flesh production victims as possible," promoting veganism, and devoting their lives and all their energies to this cause—Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary provides lifelong care for rescued farmed animals and other animals in need and survives solely on the donations and labor of its founders, volunteers, and supporters.

Founders Michele and Chris Alley-Grubb, who take no salary from the nonprofit sanctuary, live on site with the animals and devote 60 hours a week to daily animal care, rescue, and management. Others who donate their time include Joanna Lucas, who maintains the Peaceful Prairie Web sites and works on education and outreach; Lynn Halpern, who manages weekly outreach events and provides animal care; and Amanda Groves, who serves as the volunteer and visitor coordinator. Several other volunteers aid with maintenance, fundraising, and animal care as well. The volunteers hold paying jobs outside Peaceful Prairie—they range from attorneys to scientists to writers to artists. And from their work at the sanctuary, they have stories such as this:

She loved treats, she loved company, she loved stimulation, she loved novelty and, as we learned that day, she loved music.

Celeste spent her short life a cripple. . . . Rescued from a family hog farm the day before she was scheduled for slaughter, she arrived at the sanctuary with a broken back, and she never walked more than a few steps at a time, although she did move around her safe world, her barn, by dragging her crippled hind legs from place to place, and busied herself with rearranging the straw bales, the blankets, the feed bags and, occasionally, her barn mate, Ponza. . . .

On that New Years Day in her barn . . . the CD player played old French songs and I sang along as I stroked Celeste's belly. . . . It was an old French love ballad whose rich words are meaningless to all who don't speak French, just as Celeste's rich language is meaningless to all who don't speak pig. But the music captured and expressed what we all feel beyond language. Celeste propped herself up, sat up, her face a few inches from mine, cocked her head, looked me straight in the eyes. I sang directly to her: "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai." She uttered a sound I had never heard her, or any other pig make. A series of open mouthed, melodic, rhythmic, throaty purrs. A musical response. I repeated the refrain: "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai.". She listened, wide mouthed, as though waiting for her turn. I paused. She repeated her musical reply. We did this till the song ended . . .

She sang in pig, I sang in human. We understood each other. Not because we were especially gifted at inter-species communication, not because we knew each other all that well, but because we both knew the love, the grief, and the hope of being alive in a soul burdened body. (Joanna Lucas, "Why Begin Again," PPS blog)

In addition to caring for the animals 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, Peaceful Prairie works tirelessly to educate the public about the animals at Peaceful Prairie and those like them—to help people understand the individuality and inherent value of each life and to encourage people to adopt a vegan lifestyle and commit themselves to a nonviolent life and diet.

They use such tools as their Peaceful Choices Web site, with information about the animals and tips and resources for vegan living; the lovely Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary blog that tells the animals' moving stories; regular outreach events; advertisements in publications; and even billboards. In the spring of 2008, Peaceful Prairie arranged (and raised funds) to place two powerful ads in two popular magazines, revealing the realities of milk and free-range egg production, but at the last minute, the magazines pulled out, afraid of upsetting their readers. But Peaceful Prairie's humans were not deterred, and shortly thereafter, the ads appeared in the Los Angeles Times. Peaceful Prairie's Web site traffic and interest in their information on farmed animals and vegan living went through the roof.

The sanctuary considers its greatest current challenge to be countering "the devastating effect of the mass marketing and consumption of what compassionate people are led to believe is ‘humane' animal farming" and has therefore prioritized the work of debunking the notion that humane animal farming is possible. For example, the dairy industry is predicated on separating newborn calves from their mothers, and dairy and veal are inextricably linked. Further, they point out the following:

Some of the most egregious cases of animal abuse we have encountered have come from so-called "cage-free" facilities and "family" farms.

To prove this point, we will introduce visitors to Libby, a hen rescued from a "cage-free" facility. When they see her mutilated body up next to Jewel, a hen rescued from a battery facility, we ask them if they can tell which hen came from which type of operation. They invariably cannot tell the difference. When we describe the conditions at "cage-free" and "free-range" facilities we have investigated, sanctuary visitors are even more perplexed, and even angered. (Michele Alley-Grubb, HumaneMyth.org commentary)

The sanctuary has been profiled in several publications, including all major Boulder and Denver newspapers, and has been featured on national and local television stations (including a Hallmark program—scroll down to the "Sacred in the Ordinary" heading and select the video link). The sanctuary received an Everyday Hero award from Denver's news channel 7 in 2006.