A Sanctuary for the Wild, the Wounded, and the Worthy

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 Pleasant Pasture, we often say that the gate to the sanctuary swings both ways. Animals arrive carrying stories—some too heavy to bear, others quietly fading from memory—and over time, if we’ve done our work well, they leave those stories behind. Or rewrite them entirely.

We rescue. We rehome. We offer lifelong sanctuary. But what we really do is create a sacred pause in the chaos of the world. A moment for healing. A breath.

There’s Nick, the kitten, just eight weeks old when he was abandoned, broken-jawed and alone. He shouldn’t have survived—but he did. Because someone saw him. Someone brought him to us. And now, Nick is healing. He purrs when touched. He presses his tiny head into your hand like he’s always known it was meant to be there.

There are the five hog siblings, nearly six years into their sanctuary life. They were rescued together, and they’ve stayed together—growing from wobbly babies into enormous, hilarious, mud-loving personalities. They bicker like siblings, snuggle like soulmates, and remind us daily that family isn’t just blood. It’s belonging.

And then there are the wild ones—the deer, the ducks, the possums and pheasants who choose to live alongside us. They aren’t fenced in. They don’t need saving in the same way. But they know this is a safe place. A mama deer recently gave birth to her fawn under the old willow tree, just yards from where the cattle graze. It’s the second year in a row she’s chosen that same quiet patch of earth.

That’s what this place is. A home not only for the animals we bring in, but for those who simply feel the peace and decide to stay awhile. It’s a space for the wild, the wounded, and the worthy—which, in the end, is all of us.

You are part of that. Every donation, every message of support, every shared post or garage sale item or jar of cookies from the bake sale—it all makes this possible. You are the hands that hold this mission. You are the ones who whisper, through your actions: You matter. You’re safe. You’re home.

This sanctuary is more than a place. It’s a promise. A promise that love still wins. That compassion has weight. And that even the most forgotten beings can find their way back to wholeness.

Thank you for being part of our circle.