Sanctuary Life

As Christmas draws near, we remember that hope entered the world quietly. Jesus was not born in a palace or a temple, but in a stable—surrounded by hay, warmth, and gentle animals. They asked nothing. They offered shelter, presence, and peace. In their quiet way, they shared sacred space. This choice matters. It teaches us that humility is holy, that gentleness holds great power, and that worth is not found in status, but in presence. Animals live this truth instinctively. Th

Morning at Pleasant Pasture brings many things—birdsong, sunrise, and the unmistakable sound of thirteen cats gathering for canned food like it’s a royal banquet. Sir Bill and Gentle Mike eyed the scene from the fencepost. “We need a strategy,” Bill murmured. “A masterpiece of timing and charm,” Mike agreed. Phase One: As bowls were set down, Gentle Mike initiated “Operation Leg Weave,” artfully twirling around Farmer Terry's ankles to cause a brief—but effective—delay in dis

The cats had heard  the rumors. Everyone had. A band of mischievous mice—tiny outlaws with big attitudes—had taken over the grain corner of the barn. Even Warren the Warrior Steer had witnessed them sprint past his hooves like a furry parade. “Tonight,” Sir Bill proclaimed, “we restore order.” Gentle Mike, ever the philosopher, added, “And politely request they relocate.” Under moonbeams filtering through the barn loft, they crept in. The grain bags rustled. A squeaky giggle

As Wisconsin’s air turns crisp and daylight shortens, the Sanctuary begins its cozy transformation. The big pasture is now closed for winter, keeping the cattle close to the barn where the wind can’t reach them. Truckloads of sweet hay roll in weekly, and the sound of steady chewing fills the frosty air. Fresh straw blankets every pig hut, piled high for burrowing and warmth. Inside the barn, more cats are settling in—curled on hay bales or tucked into the heated cat houses w

One silver-moon night, Sir Bill crept from his porch kingdom to find Gentle Mike waiting by the gate, tail flicking with quiet excitement. “Tonight,” Mike purred, “we go beyond the fences.” Together they slipped into the sleeping pasture, their paws leaving twin trails in the dew. They crossed moonlit hayfields and followed fireflies to the great oak at the hilltop—where legend says the stars whisper to those who truly listen. Bill, ever proud, tried to act unimpressed, but w

Quiet, kind, and ever so polite—that’s Gentle Mike, the soft-spoken heart of the Gentlefolk Colony. With his grey tiger stripes and slender frame, Mike moves like a whisper through the barn, greeting everyone with a slow blink and a rumbling purr that seems far too big for his body. He asks for no fancy meals, no extra comforts—just a kind word and a hand to nuzzle against. When visitors arrive, Mike is never far. While others may hide or strut, he finds the nearest post to c

Why Your Giving Matters — Every Day, Every Season As the year winds down and the air turns crisp across the pasture, we find ourselves reflecting on what it really takes to care for all the lives who call Pleasant Pasture home. The truth? It takes love, time, and yes — it takes steady, reliable support. The kind that keeps hay in the barn, bowls full of food, and hearts full of peace. Each morning begins with the hum of the skid steer, the rustle of straw, and the chorus of h

Among the Gentlefolk of Pleasant Pasture, there’s one who walks his own path—Sir Bill, the orange gentleman of the porch. Once a scrappy little barn kitten from an overcrowded shelter, Bill has since claimed his own kingdom just down by the farmhouse. He enjoys private meals (served promptly upon demand), a heated porch house, and the noble pastime of sunbathing like he owns the place—which, honestly, he might. Bill vanishes for days at a time, always returning sleek and smug

Every October the sanctuary takes on a kind of quiet magic. The barn glows golden at dusk, the cats stretch across hay bales like living shadows, and the owls begin their nightly watch. Halloween is near — a season of mystery, superstition, and, if we’re honest, a bit of misunderstanding. Throughout history, certain animals have been cast as villains in our stories. Black cats, for instance, were once seen as omens of bad luck or companions to witches. Crows and ravens were t

Magnetic Mr. Buttons We’ve been hearing from quite a few of you lately: “How’s Mr. Buttons doing?”  It’s true—Warren the Warrior Steer...

Good morning, friends. Here’s a thought that might surprise you: animal rescue isn’t just for the people who run sanctuaries or shelters....

Food brings the colony together! At Pleasant Pasture, our cat family is a world of personalities. Some are bold explorers, leaping to the...

Barley today - and as a young piglet 3 years ago If you’ve ever driven a quiet country road and seen something rustling in the ditch, you...

The work we do here is part rescue, part ritual. It's feeding the forgotten. Holding the unwanted. Making space for sorrow and joy. At...

It’s hard to believe that just three months ago, Gus Gus and Marlboro were orphaned newborn piglets—barely days old, fragile, and...

If you’ve ever had the honor of meeting Warren the Warrior Steer, you know: he takes his role as guardian of the pasture seriously. He's...

It’s been just over a month since baby Willy wobbled into the world—hooves first, wide-eyed, and full of promise. And oh, how he’s grown....

At just eight weeks old, Nick should be learning to pounce on blades of grass, nap in sunbeams, and playfully chase the flick of a tail....

There’s a brand-new heartbeat at the sanctuary, and it belongs to someone very small, very special, and very wiggly. Meet Willy, our...

Life in the cat colony is anything but boring. The day starts early—usually with a scuffle over the warmest hay pile or an unprovoked...