May Safely Graze contributor Wendy Ward has written about cruel practices in the dairy industry. “The dairy cow is a milking machine. Her maternal instincts are crushed by the yearly removal of her hard-born calf.”
In this short poem she recounts seeing a cow in a field struggling to give birth, and seeing a truckload of calves arrive at a slaughterhouse.
Being a mother myself, a long time ago I stopped to watch a cow give birth
I found myself bearing down with her as she fought and struggled to deliver her calf.
I never found out the fate of the calf but I know what happens to bobbies – a sweet name for a waste product.
Like I’d called my child Pooh!
Once I saw a truckload of these babies arrive at a slaughterhouse.
Poured down chutes into yards,
the tiny bundles of new life, crying with hunger,
surged towards me.
Have I got milk?
No! You are the mother lode of the white gold. Be content!
Every fibre of my being is strung out, taut with despair at the very thought of it.
Nature has primed for birth and afterwards, the separation of mother and calf, the killing of healthy newborns. is a cruelty too far.
Warning bells are chiming.
We cannot hear.
Our ears are blocked.
They need flushing out.
Like waste products.
Wendy Ward is a retired Clinical Psychologist and University Lecturer.
In this sensitive and heartfelt blog, May Safely Graze Contributor Danette Wereta recounts how she attempted to rescue a young seagull, and a Paradise duck.
It’s been a hard week for rescues. Even though I know I did the right thing, and I know the birds are no longer suffering, I still feel an overwhelming sense of guilt, as if I took them to their death. Some say it is an honour to support animals at the end of their lives, but that doesn’t make the crushing sadness you’re left with any easier.
On the way to the library this week, which is right on the beach in New Brighton here in Christchurch, I saw a family eating hot chips. The kids were chasing the seagulls, which always seems to annoy me. I was already frowning at them when they called out, “Look, look mum, that bird has a chip stuck.”
I looked over and the seagull seemed to have a chip stuck on the side of her neck. She looked in bad shape with dirty, ruffled feathers, many of them missing. I went over and while I couldn’t get a good look, I assumed it was some type of fishing equipment, the issue for a few rescues lately. (Don’t get me started on this!) I told the family to keep an eye on the bird and raced home to get my gear.
In five minutes I was back on the scene. I asked the family if they wanted to help me. It’s always incredible to see the community come together to help an animal. Most people want to get involved and it gives them such a positive feeling, an experience they hold onto. What’s more, I’m sure it changes the way they see animals, even if they already love them.
The gull was in bad shape but could still fly a little. Normally gulls aren’t too difficult to catch as they are food-driven. I asked the mum to throw some food and distract her while I worked my way behind to drop a net. But this wee girl was wary, and after a few unsuccessful attempts I wasn’t sure what my game plan was anymore.
Then, with some luck on my side, she moved against a wall. I asked all the kids to run down the side and help me block her in. I was able to get her in my net, and the kids held her safely contained while I brought back my cage.
At the first vets I visited they said the only thing they would do was put her to sleep. It’s of great sadness to me that we humans cause so much pain and suffering to wildlife, and yet, if they’re not natives, we won’t help them when they’re in need. Unwilling to give up so easily, I bundled her back into the car and we drove to another vet, who said they would treat her.
The vet showed me her injury, a large and very nasty hole in her neck. She was badly wounded, yet as I held her I could feel her gentle energy. She was still very young. The vet promised they would do what they could for her, but sadly, the little seagull was unable to survive.
I always name each animal I try to rescue, and Thea – which means divine – is the name I chose for her. Fly free, Thea. I’m sorry for your suffering and I’m sorry I was unable to save you.
Bobby’s wing was dropped, and he was in a lot of pain.
A few days later I met Bobby. I was off to meet my friend Jess, who carries out many rescues with me. On the way, I spied a paradise shelduck, pūtangitangi, a goose-like duck endemic to New Zealand who was sitting up on the riverbank. Nothing seemed amiss, he was just sitting there, quite a normal sight. Suddenly I had a weird feeling, so strong I couldn’t shake it. I dropped Jess a quick message to say I’d be late, and went back to check the duck. I assumed he would stand up and walk off as soon as I approached, which is what a healthy duck would do. I was relieved when he got up, and thought I was just being silly. But after he took a few steps and I saw his dropped wing, my heart dropped too.
I connected with Jess and we came back to help him, but he was gone. We made plans to try the next day, and met up at the lake at 6pm. Fortunately he was a paradise duck, so the wildlife hospital would treat him. Natives have it much better than non-natives. I organised everything in advance, and with wheels in motion we began the rescue.
But the drake was super wary and undoubtedly in a lot of pain. There was very little distance between the small riverbank and the water, making it difficult for us to cut him off from the water. What’s more, the road was close with traffic whizzing by, terrible conditions for a rescue of this kind.
We gave it a few attempts, waiting patiently between each one for him to return.
Normally a rescue like this takes a few people owing to the complexity, but it was only Jess and me. Even though I didn’t think it would work, I left Jess to keep an eye on him, then went home and grabbed one of the kayaks I got off Trade Me to carry out my rescues. I returned and pushed the kayak into the water aiming to move him back up onto land so he could be netted. But with only Jess on the riverbank and me in the water, I had my doubts we would be successful.
I slowly applied pressure, trying to get the drake to exit the water, but couldn’t manage it. Ducks are so smart, and paradise ducks seem to be extra smart. I was exhausted, and to make matters worse, he kept changing directions quickly. Trying to keep up with him I turned the kayak abruptly – and promptly tipped out into the water.
Fully clothed, in old hiking boots, I flapped around as Jess laughed and waka ama teams rowing passed looked amused at me executing the perfect flail! Finally back in the kayak we continued with Plan A, but still couldn’t get him. We decided it was time to move to Plan B.
I took the massive net and tried to manovre the kayak with the paddle at the same time. It was very hard, and the duck started diving under the water when I got too close. Soon he was waterlogged and sinking. Every time he went under, my heart dropped. Am I just making things worse? Jess was coordinating all this from the riverbank, which must have been very stressful for her also.
We were now in a really tough position. I couldn’t get him, and he was in danger. Cold, waterlogged, and likely in a lot of pain. At the moment the waka ama team came back, and I shouted to them, asking for their help. Using their kayaks, we cornered him up a bank. The poor boy was in bad, bad shape. I jumped out of my kayak, abandoning it in the river, and swam after him and up the bank, where I was finally able to get him. He was cold and struggling. I held him close, and told him how sorry I was.
Jess jumped in the car and raced around the other side of the river, then came running with the cage. We carefully got him in, and rushed him to the vet in a warm car, which was good for me too, as I was soaking wet and shivering.
The vet said the injury was so bad, with a bone exposed and infection that had been there too long, that he needed to be put to sleep. Sad and disappointed, we said our goodbyes to the boy, and I sent him loving energy. I named him Bobby, which means ‘shining glory.’ He was quiet, reserved, smart, and wise, with energy very different to young Thea’s.
Some days later I’m still processing his death. Bobby was likely hit by a car. Such a large duck, maybe it was an accident, but most people can avoid potholes successfully, I wondered if this was yet anothera case wilfully mowing an animal down.
As I write I imagine Bobby flying in a warm, soft field filled with golden light, and a beautiful sparkling river weaving through it. His family saw what happened, so I have been back to sit with them by the river, and tell them how sorry I am.
Sending love to you Thea and Bobby. Your lives mattered. Your wings may be still, but your spirit soars on.
Danette Wereta is a wildlife rescuer and blogger. She is Co-Leader of the Animal Justice Party of Aotearoa New Zealand.
In this charming piece, May Safely Graze contributor Christine Rose writes about a couple of fantails (piwakawaka) who have borrowed her garden shed to raise their family.
Two industrious fantails – piwakawaka, have crafted a nest in my garden shed.
Piwakawaka sitting on their nest, which shows the trailing that is characteristic of the species.
Over a few weeks, both parents flew pea straw, mosses and cobwebs to create a tiny soft and spongy cup. It’s perched on a loop of wire hanging from the rafters, with a long tail characteristic of fantail nests.
For fourteen days the parents took turns sitting in the nest cup. On the fifteenth day, the parents began hyperactively flying to and fro, darting about, catching bugs, and ferrying them to the new feeding chicks. In another fourteen days the chicks will fledge.
The ‘fantail’ genus comprises 51 different species, spread over Australasia, South East Asia and the Indian subcontinent. The literal meaning of their latin name rhipiduridae translates to – rhipis/rhipdos, fan, and oura which is tail.
Four subspecies have been found around New Zealand, the North Island (R. placabilis), South Island (R.fuliginosa), and Chatham Island variants, as well as a now extinct Lord Howe Island variant. The main difference between New Zealand fantails and those found in Australia and New Guinea are their calls. Here, there are pied and black coloured morphs. Black piwakawaka make up only 1% of North Island birds, and around 4% of those in the South Island. Seeing black ones is extra special.
Piwakawaka are also known as tīwakawaka and piwaiwaka. In our garden, they’re known as little darlings. Whatever they’re called, they’re distinctive and well loved, with their “confiding nature” – their friendly little flits attracted to people for the bugs we disturb. Piwakawaka are an omen of death in Māori mythology. But they’re really all about life and birth.
Piwakawaka have coped reasonably well with introduced pests and deforestation.
In the North Island they nest from August to March, and in the South Island, from September to January. They’re prolific little breeders, with between two and five broods a season. They lay three or four spotted grey and brown eggs, with both parents helping to build the nest, incubate and feed the young.
Incubation of subsequent nests might occur when the fledged young of the first brood are still being fed. And young males can start breeding just two months later. No wonder fantails are so common.
In places like Tawharanui, fantails flock with other little forest birds like pōpokatea – whiteheads and silver eyes. They also flock with saddlebacks. It’s a raucous ringing of tiny bells when they move through the forest together.
Fantails are almost never still, and are adept agile fliers as they dart around catching bugs. They are very alert to food potential – at home when we open our compost bin, they fly in for a bug feed on cue. Their beaks are specially equipped for bug capture, being flat and triangular. And it seems that somehow they can store a few at a time in those tiny beaks, because they return to the nest and feed their several chicks on each trip.
They eat moths, flies, beetles, spiders and occasionally, small fruit. They may bash bigger insects against branches to aid digestion.
Adult fantails weigh about 8 grams and grow to about 16 cm long, though half of that is their tail. Because they’re so tiny, in winter they often huddle together on a branch.
Adorable images on the internet show up to 31 fantails huddled together in a line in a shed. The photo was taken in Mosgiel, and it gets very cold down there, so that’s a wise, and wonderful strategy.
They’re welcome to our shed all year round too.
Christine Rose is a former Councillor for the Rodney District Council and the Auckland Regional Council, and was lead climate and agriculture campaigner for Greenpeace. A long time campaigner for the oceans, forests, and creatures of our planet, 25 years ago she founded, and has since run, the Māui and Hector’s Dolphin Defenders organization. Christine is a potter and painter, and says ‘I use art and politics to shape a better world.’
In this article, May Safely Graze contributor Danette Wereta writes the New Zealand government’s targeting of feral cats could be disastrous for domestic cats, and there are better ways to protect native wildlife than through the endless killing of predators.
The New Zealand government has added feral cats to the Predator Free 2050 program, which aims to protect native wildlife and boost biodiversity by killing so-called ‘pest’ species.
In announcing the initiative last week Minister Tama Potaka described feral cats as “stone cold killers,” responsible for killing birds, bats, lizards, and insects.
I care deeply about all animals. Of course I want to protect our precious native wildlife, and measures to protect them are essential, but I have grave concerns about the way we are going about it.
Firstly, this latest development will endanger domestic cats. The government emphasises that our companion animals are not part of this target. However, lost cats, cats who flee their home when spooked by fireworks for example, cats left behind when owners move, cats who are deliberately released into the wild, will all be vulnerable. In New Zealand it is illegal to kill a companion animal unless you have a lawful and humane reason under the Animal Welfare Act 1999, but as yet there is no law that requires companion cats to wear collars, microchips, or any other form of identification. Consequently, there is no reliable way to tell a companion cat from a feral cat on sight or behaviour alone (all trapped cats behave the same way). This means anyone who kills a cat based on appearance, behaviour or lack of a collar risks committing an offence by harming a companion animal.
Secondly, adding feral cats to our killing list will not reduce their overall population. This is because of the vacuum effect, which also holds true for other ‘pest’ species, such as possums, rats and ducks. When animals are removed or killed from an area, new animals move in to fill the empty territory. Nature knows the numbers are down, so her solution is to increase breeding, and this can lead to even more animals than before.
Another point I want to make is that the very term ‘pest’ is offensive and harmful. It reduces animals to mere nuisances, stripping them of their inherent value and individuality, implying they’re only worthy of elimination, not coexistence. By using this derogatory term, we justify harming them and legitimise cruel treatment towards them, ignoring the fact that they are sentient beings capable of feeling pain, fear and anxiety like all other animals. New Zealanders, and especially our Media, need to stop using the word ‘pest’ when referring to predators, and replace it with the more accurate and objective ‘introduced species.’
When Predator Free 2050 launched 9 years ago, there was a surge of enthusiasm and community involvement. Grandmothers and small children alike proudly set up traps in their backyards to kill rats and other animals. PF 2050 taps into our nation’s promotion of hunting and shooting as a means of Conservation, but solving problems with a trap, a gun and a poison pellet just makes our culture of killing even more widespread, and ultimately doesn’t solve the problem.
It also seems incredibly inconsistent to target some animals while completely ignoring the environmental damage caused by farming. Many species labelled as ‘pests’ here and globally are only targeted because of their perceived impact on farm productivity, and not because of their impact on native birds. The annual duck shooting fest is an example of this. This selective mindset (based on financial impacts to farming) makes no ecological sense, and ignores the industries that do the most harm.
Shooting, trapping, clubbing, poisoning, and the rest of the ways we torture and kill animals is not only cruel and backward, it does not address the root cause. Actually, PF 2050 is just a funding model: if the money stopped, so would the killing. That alone shows how hollow and unsustainable the approach really is.
Real conservation comes from long-term, systemic solutions, habitat restoration, responsible companion animal ownership, stable ecosystems, and science-based management. Continuing down the path of killing is in fact risky for our native wildlife because it keeps us locked into violent practices and outdated thinking, instead of investing in non-lethal, coexistence-based methods of conservation. Some examples of this are contraception, predator-proof fencing, trap-neuter release, noise-making devices, and the use of visual deterrents, lights, and smells. These are both kinder and more effective ways of controlling introduced species.
Protecting our precious taonga is essential, but the ‘kill kill kill’ mentally espoused in Predator Free 2050 ultimately cannot work. Real progress will come when we redirect resources into root-cause prevention, innovation, habitat protection, ecosystem restoration, and humane, science-based approaches. True Conservation requires coexistence and compassion towards all animals – not blanket eradication of some that is cruel, can’t be achieved, distracts from meaningful solutions, and keeps New Zealand behind the times.
Danette Wereta is a wildlife rescuer and blogger. She is the General Secretary of the Animal Justice Party of Aotearoa New Zealand.
Last night, Sunday 19th October 2025, I got a message from one of my rescue buddies about an injured duck. The duck had been posted on their local community page earlier, and a community member was asking if any vet clinics were open.
A screenshot came through, and even though I was just about ready for bed after a long, exhausting weekend, I knew I couldn’t ignore an injured animal. I jumped in the car and headed to the spot.
I was nervous, rescues alone aren’t always easy, and it was that in-between time when the light fades fast, which makes searching in a park even harder. But I kept telling myself I needed to go and at least check out the situation. I could always mobilise the rescue team if needed (a group of us who care deeply).
When I arrived, the duck was in the exact same position as in the photo. That’s never a good sign. Without going close for a look, I walked straight back to the car to grab my cage and net, which were still in there from an earlier rescue. When I returned, he tried to move but couldn’t. He was lying in the cold, wet mud, so cold that when I picked him up, I could barely feel the warmth of life in him. The cold actually startled me. I used the net, though honestly, I could have just reached down and lifted him gently.
I tucked him up and placed him carefully into the cage. A quick look didn’t show any obvious external injuries, but something wasn’t right. I drove him straight out to Lil Quaks, about 40 minutes away. My petrol light was on, but none of this mattered.
When I arrived, the legends at Lil Quaks were already up waiting for me. I pulled off my gumboots, exhausted and in tears, while they took the cage inside. What hit me the hardest was that the community post mentioned his mate was with him – I believe they were two boys. At the river near my place, I often see bonded male ducks, I assume brothers, and it’s always touching. When I found Harry (we name every rescue), his brother was right there beside him. I’d say he hadn’t left his side once. That loyalty, that love, hit me like a sledgehammer.
Normally, I can hold it together during rescues, but this time I couldn’t. Lil Quaks spoke gently, reassuring me as they lifted Harry and examined him. The good news: his wings were okay. The bad news: his leg was shattered beyond repair.
I couldn’t look. I couldn’t help. I could only feel the weight of what was coming.
Lil Quaks asked me to take him to the vet and we both knew what that meant without saying anything else. At that hour, only the after-hours vet was available, and they only do euthanasia. So Lil Quaks gave him pain relief and comfort. He was in visible pain by then. We wrapped him warmly, gave him cuddles, and I placed him back in the cage. On the car ride, I played soft music and sang to him. I told him he was loved. I thanked him for being in the world, for his beauty, his calmness, his spirit.
Harry was peacefully put to sleep.
This morning, I woke up heavy. It always hurts so much. This is the reality of rescue. I always dream I could win lotto, just so I could open a vet hospital that treated wildlife – all wildlife. When we do so much harm to animals, it feels only right to also care for them. I went back to the site, and his brother was still there. I tried to talk to him and left food. I’ll go back tomorrow to check again. I don’t know what happened to Harry or how long he’d been suffering, but what I do know is that the bond between those two boys was real and strong. When one was in pain, the other stayed, close, loyal, loving.
And yet, people still shoot these incredible beings for sport. For fun. How can anyone see what I saw, that connection, that devotion, and still believe these lives are disposable?
Over the weekend, I also had another little encounter. A tiny sparrow flew into the window at a BP station. I just happened to be there, not my usual petrol stop, but clearly, I was meant to be. She lay still and breathing fast, shocked. I held her in my hand for about 30 minutes, letting her calm and recover, even though it made me late to pick up some ducklings.
As I sat there, I could hear other sparrows chirping nearby, maybe her parents. She slowly opened her eyes, her breathing steadied, and I knew she’d be okay. I took her around the side of the station, and at first, she wouldn’t leave my hand. Eventually, she flew up to the roof and perched there, safe.
Her eyes were so beautiful.
Every encounter with birds reminds me of their intelligence, their personalities, their beauty. Each one is an individual. I am unsure why we shoot them, hit them with our cars, ruin their habitats, and manage their population. But I do know this, love is contagious. And the more we see each bird as who they are, the harder it becomes to harm them.
I feel so blessed to meet them.
Fly free, Harry. I’m sorry you were not saved. 💛
Danette Wereta is a wildlife rescuer and blogger. She is the General Secretary of the Animal Justice Party of Aotearoa New Zealand.
Eddie Mah is an animal activist and digital creator, based in America
When we look around us, we see the devastation humans have caused. We realise that we are destroying the very world that gave us life. It is a devastating realisation.
But there is a simple solution to this, and that solution is to choose veganism. Veganism is not a diet. It is a moment in time when love and logic finally meet, when we return to balance, to living in harmony with ourselves, the earth, and with every being who lives and breathes upon it.
🐾Vegan, because Animals matter
Every animal feels fear, joy, pain, love. Every animal wants to live, just like humans do. Their eyes ask us for mercy, and we respond by turning away. Leo Tolstoy said, “As long as there are slaughterhouses, there will be battlefields.” Veganism ends violence towards animals, and this will be the beginning of peace on Earth.
We are not masters of creation. We are part of it. Every creature that breathes belongs here. None exists to suffer for our pleasure. When we see other animals as family, we awaken. When we harm others, we break the circle of life. To be human is to be kind. Not powerful. Not dominant. Kind. As long as we kill the innocent, we kill what is human in ourselves. Veganism restores our humanity.
🦚 💧🌧 Vegan, because The Environment matters
Veganism gives the oceans their breath back. Every second breath we take comes from the sea, yet we fill it with blood and plastic. Fishing nets we leave there strangle billions, and dead zones spread where life once danced. As Oceanographer Sylvia Earle said: “No water, no life. No blue, no green.”
Vegan, because Forests matter. Forests are the lungs of the planet. They gift us air, medicine, and peace. But daily they burn, to make room for animal feed. Every burger costs trees, birds, and futures. But when we eat plants, the forests breathe again, and so do we.
Vegan, because our soil matters. The ground beneath us is alive. It holds roots, rain, and renewal. Animal agriculture kills that life, while plant agriculture restores it. Healthy soil is the foundation of every healthy tomorrow.
Vegan, because water matters. Water is sacred. Yet billions of gallons vanish daily to raise animals for food. It takes 2,500 gallons to make one pound of beef; only 25 to grow a pound of potatoes. Veganism is how we share water — with people, animals, and the Earth itself.
Vegan, because Air Quality Matters. The air carries our actions. Methane, ammonia, and sorrow rise from every slaughterhouse. Animal agriculture pollutes the very breath of life. Veganism clears the sky, and heals the wind itself.
Mother Earth gives us everything. Air. Water. Forests. Beauty. We take what she offers endlessly. Veganism is how we finally say thank you. It is how we return what we’ve borrowed. It is how we begin again.
🦅🐼🐜🦋🐔 Vegan, because Species Diversity matters
Life is balance. Every being has a purpose. But when one species dominates, others vanish. Veganism protects the harmony evolution created. It honours the ancient code of coexistence.
☀️ Vegan, because Compassion and Conscience matter
Veganism is the truth that frees us all. Truth hurts before it heals; it shows what comfort and complacency hide. Slaughterhouses are not farms. They are wounds upon the Earth. As Gandhi said, “Truth never damages a cause that is just.”
Compassion is not weakness. It is strength without cruelty, love without conditions. Albert Schweitzer said, “Until we extend our circle of compassion to all living things, humanity will not find peace.” Veganism is that extension. It is love in motion. We all know right from wrong, yet culture tries to make us forget. But the voice of conscience never dies; when we silence it, we suffer, when we honour it, we evolve. Veganism is conscience made visible.
👨👩👧 Vegan, because People matter
Every child is born kind. They reach to hug, not to harm. But society teaches them to turn away from suffering. Veganism protects their innocence. Veganism also protects our health. Our bodies were designed to heal; plants give them the power to do it. Plant-based foods lower cholesterol, reverse disease, and extend life. When we eat compassion, we radiate vitality. When we stop eating pain, we begin to live. Our children deserve more than excuses. They deserve a living planet.
☀️Vegan, because Evolution matters
True evolution is not about technology, but about empathy. It is learning to live without killing. We evolve not when we conquer, but when we care. Veganism is the rise of moral intelligence.
🔮Vegan, because our Future matters
The future is not far away, and is being written today. It is being written by what we consume. Every animal meal steals hope. Every vegan meal restores hope and bestows health. When we align with compassion, peace follows naturally. When we align with cruelty, chaos reigns.
Veganism is alignment with life itself. Peace is not found in words, but in choices. We cannot eat violence and expect serenity. We cannot harm the innocent and call ourselves peaceful. Peace begins when we set down the knife. Peace begins on the plate.
🧘♀️🥗🍎🌱🔆
Veganism is our Moment of Truth. Somewhere tonight, a mother cow cries for her stolen child. Somewhere, a forest burns to feed our denial. Somewhere, a child prays for clean water. All these cries echo as one. We can silence them all, for good and for ever by realising that everything is connected – every drop, every breath, every being – and by living with love.
Chief Seattle said, “Whatever we do to the web of life, we do to ourselves.”
All life matters. Oceans matter. Forests matter. The soil matters. Compassion matters. Conscience matters. Water, children, truth, peace, and humanity — they all matter.
Veganism is the language of the soul. It is Oneness made visible. Veganism is the answer, because everything sacred depends on it.
With 6 thoroughbred deaths on New Zealand tracks in the last six weeks, and 46 horses injured, we’re turning the spotlight again on horseracing. Those who campaign hard for the end of this cruel ‘sport’, including Elin Arbez, hear the same comments over and again from those who defend this Industry. This is her response.
Elin is an animal rights advocate who works in the Healthcare Industry.
Often when I post about horse racing, the same barrage of repetitive, inane comments gallop in from industry members and defenders. If I spent my time and energy replying to each comment individually, my brain cells might deplete to the point where I actually start enjoying horse racing myself. So, to preserve what’s left of my sanity, I’ve compiled this guide to the most Frequently Asserted Nonsense that we’re constantly subjected to.
“Horses love to race”
Horses are herd animals who enjoy running together for short bursts in open spaces – not under whips, pushed to their physical limits. What they “love” is movement, not competition or coercion.
“This is what they’re bred to do”
Breeding for performance doesn’t make the use ethical. We once bred circus elephants, and dancing bears for human entertainment, too. Being bred for something doesn’t equal consent to it.
“It’s tradition”
Many traditions, from animal fighting to child labor, have ended because we learned better. Tradition isn’t justification for continued harm.
“They wouldn’t exist without racing”
That’s not an argument for exploitation; it’s an argument against breeding animals into a system that depends on exploiting them to survive.
“What would happen to all the horses if racing stopped?”
The majority of horses at risk exist because of the racing industry’s constant breeding cycle. If racing phased out, breeding would slow, and existing horses could be rehomed or retired. The real issue isn’t ending racing – it’s overproduction for profit.
“Injuries and deaths are no different than those that happen in human sports”
Human athletes choose their risks. Horses don’t. Six horses died in six weeks already this season. They can’t opt out, sign a waiver, or understand why they’re being pushed beyond their limits.
“We love our horses”
Genuine care doesn’t include forcing animals to race, whip use, or sending them to slaughter when they stop earning. Love respects life, not profit.
“You’re scaring the horses by protesting”
Protest signs are only held for passing traffic between races. When horses are present, I’m quietly taking photos and videos. Horses are far more distressed by the noise, whips, and confinement of the starting gates than by my silent presence.
“Get a job/Get a life”
Like most animal advocates, I am employed. A full life includes compassion, and speaking out against cruelty is a moral obligation.
“Protesting is not effective”
Every major social change, from civil rights to environmental reform, faced that same criticism until it succeeded. Protests raise awareness, shift culture, and put pressure on systems that rely on silence. If protest wasn’t effective, industries wouldn’t try so hard to silence it.
“You’ll never stop it”
Many once said the same about whaling, circuses, and greyhound racing. Cultural change happens slowly, then suddenly. Persistence, not silence, is what ends exploitation.
“There are bigger problems in the world”
Systemic cruelty toward animals reflects how we treat vulnerability in general. Compassion isn’t limited, caring about one injustice strengthens our response to others.
There is no excuse for animal abuse. For more information on what really lies behind the Horseracing Industry go to http://horseracingkills.com
I was called by Lil Quaks to say that a swan had been reported at Pegasus (in Canterbury) with a broken wing and it looked like an old injury. Lil Quaks and my team of volunteers often join up for rescues. A bit of fate brought us together, and I love them to bits. They are the only ones I know who are out on the front line doing the rescues, just like me. But they also offer refuge for animals who need recovery time or a permanent safe place if they cannot return to the wild. We make a good team, with animals being our priority.
Birds have tiny bones, so fast healing time. Given that, I reassured the team that since there was no open wound seen, the injury might already be healed, and it was a good sign he had survived so far. I said we needed to observe him first, as it’s not always best to rush in and take a bird without that time for proper assessment.
I finally got there myself on Sunday, 5 October 2025. The rain was horizontal, the cold cut through, and it was miserable. As soon as I saw him on the water across the lake, I knew. I felt my breath taken away, and the stinging start. His position told me everything. I watched him constantly jerk and preen his wing, a sign I have seen before. It confirmed my fears.
Everyone was saying we might have to come back later in the week as he was not interested in approaching us and he was out on the water. Swans are super nosey and come up to you, which is helpful with rescues (not like geese!), so that wasn’t a good sign. Usually, we cannot rescue a bird while it is still in the water (way too fast and smart!), and with this weather, it was unlikely he would come up on land. But deep down, I felt sick. I could not go home and sleep knowing he was there suffering, constantly picking at himself violently.
He eventually came up to the water’s edge but would not accept any food. I got a good look at him then. He was half the size his body should have been, and when he turned, I saw the gunshot wound. I knew then. I confirmed it and set my intention. We would not be leaving him behind.
I set off home to get kayaks and call in more people. Numbers help in bird rescues. But halfway there, we got a call to say he had come up further onto the land. We raced back. Some amazing community members came out to help, and together we did the trusted circle capture, forming a wide ring to gently cut off his escape to the water and bring him safely in.
We did it. He was safe.
Jess, one of my favourite animal rescuers, did an incredible job. Her heart and determination are unmatched. She never gives up. She is strong, smart, and full of empathy. We got him into a cage, and Lil Quaks took him home where he was safe, warm, and medicated.
He had the most wise, regal energy. I felt deeply connected to him.
At the vet today, the outcome was not what we hoped. We pushed for his wing to be amputated, but his feet had severe bumblefoot. I had not heard of it before, but it happens when a bird is grounded and all the pressure goes onto its feet. It was too advanced to heal and he would always have it. Lil Quaks named him Rasputin, the perfect name for a mysterious and powerful being. And today, Rasputin went to sleep.
After what I imagine were weeks of extreme suffering, he finally had love, warmth, and care from humans. Not all of us are cruel. I am so sorry, Rasputin.
I believe his mate was probably shot too, and perhaps he was the one who got away.
It makes me sick to know that someone did this for fun. For sport. For entertainment. Swans are the King & Queen of birds – magnificent, beautiful, and strong, shot from the sky for no reason. The pain and suffering he endured breaks my heart.
After a rescue like this, I carry the pain for days. I guess it never really goes away, but I learn to sit with it and hold it gently in my heart. I cry and hide under blankets, wishing all the awfulness in the world did not exist. But it does. We live in a world where we bicker about personhood and legal rights and all the while, things like this happen. Rasputin is killed for fun and is left to suffer. And while people were so upset and outraged this happened to Rasputin (the comments online show the love for him), they still don’t make the connection that this happens all the time, we actually have seasons for it. We promote it. We make jokes about it. We create a culture around it.
May Safely Graze contributor Danette Wereta is the General Secretary of the Animal Justice Party Aotearoa New Zealand, an experienced senior leader, and co-founder of a newly established animal charity. She is currently studying animal law and ethics and spends time rescuing injured wildlife.
When I heard about the upcoming Canada goose cull at Molesworth, I felt that sick feeling at the bottom of my stomach. Not just because hundreds, even thousands, of geese will be shot down in the name of “pest control,” but because I know these birds as individuals. I know their intelligence, their devotion to family, their courage, and their grief. I know this because of the young Canada goose I came to call Grace.
In early 2023, my life changed forever.
I was out walking my dogs when I came across her. I noticed she was sitting strangely, and when I looked closer, I realised her wing was severely broken. Since then, I seem to always notice birds sitting strangely, or not looking quite right. Often an injury is not visible, but if they catch my attention I always stop. Always.
Near to Grace were her parents, loving, vigilant, and protective. They never left her side through the whole rescue. Her dad was always on watch, quickly ushering the family away whenever we came too close. They recognised us when we arrived each day to attempt to help Grace, and they did everything they could to protect their little one.
For a week, I poured myself into trying to save Grace. I researched, made calls, and found people willing to help. The rescue effort grew, kind strangers joined in, kayaks were launched, and large nets were bought. Every attempt showed us just how quick, intelligent, and resourceful geese are. Even injured, Grace outsmarted us more than once. I joked that I now understood the saying ‘wild goose chase….’
One day, with teamwork and determination, we managed to capture her safely. She spent the night tucked up warm in a barn, loved and cared for. The next morning she went to the vet, but her injury was too severe, the infection too advanced. We were told that the kindest thing was to let her go. Deeply saddened, I wanted to give her a name. I chose Grace, to convey her beauty, elegance, poise, and her kind, gentle, and stoic nature.
Grace never made it back to her parents, who we knew would be grieving the loss of their child. Her life was short, but her impact on mine has been profound. It was Grace who set me on the path of rescue, a path I am still walking. Even now, I talk to her in spirit, and she will always occupy a place in my heart.
Grace
Grace is why the Molesworth cull is unbearable to me.
The official line is that Canada geese eat too much pasture, taking food from sheep. But this conflict only exists because humans brought them here, and because we farm sheep in the first place. It’s not the geese who created the problem, it’s us. Killing them doesn’t solve it. The geese just breed more, and the cycle of violence continues, season after season.
The truth is that geese are intelligent, family-oriented beings who mate for life, mourn their dead, and fiercely protect their young. They are not ‘pests’, a word I dislike intensely. Animals we brand this way are not ‘nuisances’; they are living creatures with feelings, desires, and experiences. Along my local river, duckling season sees a lot of sadness, with many babies not surviving, for various reasons. One day you might see several ducklings swimming alongside their mum, the next day there are only two. But this is not the case with geese. They basically run a nursery – keeping all the babes together, safe and loved. It’s quite the sight to see, especially when they run a special road crossing and all the babies, of different ages, waddle past.
There is no need for violence to manage populations. There are alternatives to culling that are proven, humane, and effective. Other countries have used non-lethal methods, for example laser deterrents, with great success. These approaches are efficient, cost-effective, and sustainable. Shooting sprees are not.
When I comment, politely and with compassion, on posts relating to geese culls, it’s always the same. I’m met with replies like “geese taste nice” or “they’re vermin”, and, of course, I get lots of laughing emojis. You can see from their profile pictures that many of those leaving such comments are hunters, often proudly displaying the animals they’ve killed. How do people reach the point where bragging about being cruel and killing animals for a pastime is seen not only as acceptable, but also funny?
When I point out the cruelty, the reactions I get – mockery, anger, or doubling down – are also predictable, a mix of cognitive dissonance and identity protection. Many hunters don’t want to see themselves as cruel, and their discomfort is deflected outward. Mocking animals as “vermin” or joking about killing becomes a defense mechanism, a way to laugh off the unease. It also reinforces their in-group identity, because by ridiculing compassion, they reassure themselves they’re on the “right side.” In truth, their hostility just shows how deeply normalised cruelty to animals is, and how threatening empathy is to a mindset built on dominance and control.
When I think of Grace, I remember her parents’ courage and devotion. Every goose shot at Molesworth has a family like that. Every one of them is ‘someone’, not ‘something’.
The “magic of Molesworth” isn’t in the cruel, destructive hunt. It’s in the lives of the beings who call it home. And if we truly respected that magic, we wouldn’t be pointing guns at it.
Fly free, Grace. You started me on this journey, and I will keep speaking of you.
May Safely Graze contributor Wendy Ward is a retired clinical psychologist and university lecturer in the UK and New Zealand. “Until I lived in the King Country and was surrounded by dairy farms, I had swallowed the myth of contented cows grazing in paddocks. I learned the dairy industry is based on cruel practices. The worst being the removal of new-born calves from their mothers at birth. These new-borns are trucked to slaughterhouses to be killed. The dairy cow is a milking machine. Her maternal instincts are crushed by the yearly removal of her hard-born calf.”
“DAILY OFFERINGS”
Walking back to the farm
I saw ute and trailer being mobbed by Mums
distraught and mooing.
The daily offering of new-born calves, taken away to be sorted:
Heifer, bull, bobby, longish life, short life, no life.
A daily offering, laid on the altar of profit.
Even if people here were starving,
Would it be right?
Can we sanction these
Induced abortions
To fit farm timetables and the killing of new-born calves?
This is a country of so much milk and meat
We are dying of excess.
It’s a familiar mantra:
Consumer demand overseas
Free trade, exports
GDP.
As dairy farmers say
“If you want butter and cheese to eat
And milk to drink, then there’s a cost.”
Citizens are waking up
Realizing the power of their wallets
and voices.
Remembering each one of us counts
In the choices we make.
What of the future?
When land is worn out
Water polluted?
We think of ancient peoples
Who made daily offerings of animals and birds,
To appease all-powerful gods.
Are we any different by placating a different God?
May Safely Graze contributor Danette Wereta is the General Secretary of the Animal Justice Party Aotearoa New Zealand, an experienced senior leader, and co-founder of a newly established animal charity. She is currently studying animal law and ethics and spends time rescuing injured wildlife.
I find it so very hard to believe that we don’t all agree that animals are not here for us, they are here with us. They are not resources or tools; they are individuals with lives of their own.
Tom Regan says it clearly in The Case for Animal Rights “The fundamental wrong is the system that allows us to view animals as our resources, here for us, to be eaten, or surgically manipulated, or exploited for sport or money.” That is the heart of it. The suffering animals endure is beyond terrible and constant, and the problem is the worldview, the belief that animals exist for human use. That belief underpins farming, testing, hunting, and even conservation policies that treat killing as a solution.
I spend some of my days on the front line, rescuing injured wildlife. I see their fear, their pain, their sheer determination to live. This work is a calling, but it brings a pain I don’t think I even have words for. And I also know I must go upstream. Dan Heath describes it well in Upstream: imagine hearing a child drowning and you and your mate jump in to save them, but then hearing another, and another. At some point, you climb out and your mate says where are you going? You reply, to stop the person throwing children in. That is how I feel about animals. I must be there to help them, for example when they are hit on the road, but I also have to fight against the mindset that causes it in the first place.
When I help an injured bird struck on the road, I need to not just treat wounds, but confront a deeper truth upstream. Was the bird hit because the driver believed they had the right of way, that their journey mattered more than the bird’s life? But what if we shifted that thinking? What if drivers understood “I live here, with these birds. They have every right to be here. This road crosses right through their home, so I should be considerate.” If you can swerve for a pothole, you can look out for wildlife.
I feel a duty not just to rescue animals, but to try and rescue people from the belief that animals are things. That is why I struggle so much with our New Zealand Department of Conservation. DOC was set up to protect our natural world, yet its approach, and might I add, its only approach, relies on killing, including methods such as aerial poison drops and hunting competitions.
DOC’s duty is to protect biodiversity, but there is no legal duty to protect individual animals from suffering. It breaks my heart, because I know that every possum, goat, rat or wallaby is not a “pest.” They are animals, just like the animals DOC says they are protecting.
If we shifted our mindset to “animals as individuals,” DOC would be forced to invest in alternatives instead of defaulting to killing. This utilitarian logic, that we can cause suffering to some animals to protect others, is flawed. And when your only conservation strategy is killing, you never innovate beyond killing. Whenever I post via the Animal Justice Party (AJP) saying killing isn’t the lever to pull, people always write smart-ass comments and demand a list of solutions. Here’s the thing, the answer is changing the mindset and investing in looking at different solutions. I don’t have all the solutions, that’s exactly the problem. These solutions don’t exist in any meaningful, funded way because of the mindset. When you believe animals are just resources, why would you invest in developing humane alternatives? But alternatives do exist, they are just not explored in New Zealand. There is fertility control, habitat modification, and species-specific deterrents. The innovation happens when we stop defaulting to violence.
Hunting competitions, which DOC runs, take everything that’s wrong about how we see animals and shove it in your face. They don’t just promote killing, they glorify it. They turn death into sport, entertainment, something to cheer about. They teach communities and even children to see animals not as living beings with their own lives, but as targets, trophies, “pests” to be eliminated. Research by Emily Major shows how possums are framed by media as villains, and “the only good possum is a dead possum.” This framing makes violence seem acceptable, even patriotic or funny.
People let themselves feel okay about it by saying it’s for conservation. But how can people who eat animals or farm them really claim to care about conservation? It’s like saying, ‘I care about the ocean, so I won’t use plastic straws,’ while eating fish. It’s ridiculous.
Justice for Animals matters. It’s not just about reducing suffering here and there. It’s about shifting how humans think about and relate to animals. It’s about considering animals so their lives are not endlessly negotiable. I may not have all the answers, but I can contribute my hands, my heart, and my voice to that shift.
Globally, animals are almost invisible in the frameworks that guide our future. Sustainable development, the world’s blueprint for a good future, talks about protecting species and ecosystems, but not about how individual animals live, suffer, or thrive. How we treat animals is tied to environmental health, social justice, and economic stability. We cannot build a sustainable future if we ignore the lives and wellbeing of animals.
There is hope. Hope drives the work of shifting beliefs and building laws. That is why I do this work. That is why I will keep going until animals are no longer invisible in our laws, our policies, and our vision of a fair future.
When I help that injured bird struck on the road, I know I also have a duty to shift the view of my fellow humans. Only then will that bird, and all animals, finally be seen for who they are. Because that bird has every right to be there, and it’s our duty to be considerate and not kill or injure them with our cars. The road to justice isn’t just about healing the wounded, it’s about stopping the wounding in the first place. It starts with seeing animals not as things in our way, but as sentient beings sharing our world.
Summer Jayne is an author and animal-advocate based in Taranaki, New Zealand. She is the mother to two teenagers, a five year old, and ‘a house full of animals’.
Next weekend, gunfire will ring out over otherwise tranquil locations all around Aotearoa. The target of the relentless rain of bullets: thousands of gentle and innocent ducks, resting unsuspectingly in the wetlands, rivers, lakes, and ponds that they consider their homes.
A male and female duck swimming peacefully. Mallards form pairs during breeding season, with males (drakes) and females (hens) working together to raise their young.
The first weekend of May is the opening of duck shooting season, an outdated Kiwi tradition, continuing over a number of weeks, where violently killing ducks is regarded as a recreational activity. The animal welfare issues are extensive, but there are also environmental and social implications to consider. Animal advocate Sandra Kyle is one of many calling for an outright ban.
“Duck shooting is unconscionable,” states Kyle. “Fortunately, more and more New Zealanders are concerned about the suffering and injury caused to ducks and other waterbirds during duck shooting season. I am hopeful that this horrible tradition will soon be winging its way into obscurity.”
In 2015, the Animal Welfare Amendment Bill passed into law in Aotearoa declaring that animals, like humans, are sentient beings. That means they are legally recognised as conscious, and capable of experiencing pain, fear, and distress. In addition to having sentience, ducks are intelligent and social beings, who sometimes partner for life.
Forcing them to experience the horror of being shot, retrieved in the jaws of a dog, and then swung around by the head until their neck dislocates, all in the name of tradition, is morally abhorrent. But the extent of the cruelty goes ever further. Each season, countless birds experience non-lethal wounding when they are shot, but do not die outright.
X-ray of a duck riddled with gunshot.
Wounded birds suffer agonising and prolonged deaths. Often unable to fly or swim, many will drown or starve. Former hunter Paora Mepham has witnessed the suffering of wounded ducks firsthand and chooses to take photographs instead of lives these days.
“Every trip there was prolonged suffering by ducks. Wounded birds, unable to fly, would invariably escape into the surrounding undergrowth and suffer slow deaths. Getting together with mates in the great outdoors is great fun. Killing animals while doing it; not so much,” Mepham states.
While bird protection is proudly encouraged in Aotearoa, ironically, duck shooting is not widely regarded as a threat to bird life. In reality though, it disrupts whole ecosystems, damages wetlands, and harms the native and endemic birds that live in these precious and unique ecological areas. Fragile populations of endangered whio (blue duck) and pāteke (brown teal) face unnecessary disruption and death during duck hunting season. When they’re in flight, pāteke is visibly similar to a common mallard and they’re regularly killed by mistake.
Female Pateke. Pateke are considered endangered because of introduced predators, habitat loss, and hunting.
Areas where duck hunting takes place become littered with the wads of shotgun cartridges, adding to plastic pollution and degrading waterways. The constant gunfire and the traipsing of hunters to their maimai disturbs wildlife in other predictable ways; a violent and unnecessary intrusion that turns wetlands into killing zones.
The Fish and Game regulations allow for the killing of ducks and other “game bird” species considered to be overpopulated, including mallards, black swans, pheasants and quails, as well as NZ native pūtakitaki (paradise shelduck) and pūkeko.
Killing species we don’t want around is the default position in New Zealand, but we should not consider killing a form of conservation when there are other non-violent solutions available that offer benefits that traditional methods often overlook,and can also be more economical. Non-lethal methods for controlling duck numbers include habitat modification, exclusion and deterrents, birth control such as oiling eggs and contraceptive baits, and population control via humane capture and relocation.
Duck shooting is widely considered a tradition in New Zealand, framed as a family-friendly activity passed down through generations. However, in 2025, surely it is time to evolve beyond a cultural tradition based on harming and killing animals. It is well-documented in scientific research that exposure to violence negatively impacts children’s development. Involving children in any form of animal killing desensitizes them to violence and normalises the objectification of other beings. It is now well established that children who hurt animals are statistically much more likely to grow up and hurt other humans.
Smiling child with recently killed duck. A ‘family-friendly’ activity, or de-sensitising impressionable young children to violence against others?
Duck shooting is also closely tied to binge-drinking culture, with consumption of alcohol a very common accompaniment to hunting. As well as being dangerous for other humans, this also contributes to shooters making errors resulting in non-lethal woundings of ducks.
In 2025, we ought to strive for a society where we no longer consider killing animals an acceptable form of recreation. Traditions and activities that are based upon the harm, exploitation, or deaths of other creatures should be banned. We can replace these outdated activities with kinder and more environmentally friendly pastimes, such as community engagement in wetland conservation, and counting of local bird populations.
Three Australian states have already banned duck shooting and it’s time Aotearoa followed their lead. On opening weekend, animal advocates will be protesting in Christchurch and Whanganui. There is also an online petition to the government that people can sign to support a ban. Let’s choose new, non-violent traditions to instill compassion and kindness into society, and show mercy to animals who do not deserve to be killed for our leisure.
Adorable 
A screenshot came through, and even though I was just about ready for bed after a long, exhausting weekend, I knew I couldn’t ignore an injured animal. I jumped in the car and headed to the spot.
May Safely Graze contributor Danette Wereta is the General Secretary of the 
