Lessons From Our Farm Sanctuary

On nine acres of land, Andreas Nussbaumer and his wife, Elisabeth, grow an array of vegetables and live with rescued horses, donkeys, ponies, lamas, chicken, peacocks, sheep, goats, pigs, cows, ducks, gooses, dogs, cats and a whole lot more. Each day is witness to countless stories and insights from their animal teachers. Below are a few that recently surfaced.

Big Hearted Boars: When Donny Met Britney

A few years ago, a girl pig named Britney came to us. She had spent years living alone in a backyard. Since pigs are highly social animals, that experience had left deep scars.

As soon as she arrived, she hid in an empty shelter and would let out a threatening grunt whenever any living creature came near. It didn’t matter whether it was a chicken, another pig, or a human. Pigs can make someseriously intimidating noises, and when they threaten you, you willingly keep your distance. And that was exactly what Britney wanted.

She wouldn’t let anyone near her, and certainly not INSIDE her shelter.

Then, last year, Don Juan came to us. A truly magnificent Kune Kune boar. A gentle giant.

Our pig ladies welcomed him warmly, and Donny introduced himself to everyone. Everyone, that is, except Britney, who angrily grunted at him from inside her shelter.

Donny could have moved in with any of our other nine girls. But of all places, he chose to lie down RIGHT IN FRONT OF Britney’s shelter.

Donny outside, grunting at her in a friendly way. Britney inside, squealing and hissing at him. But that didn’t bother him.

Donny stood his ground.

Day and night. In wind and rain. Through grunts and squeals.

Donny stayed.

A few days later, Britney stopped grunting. Donny took a few cautious steps inside the shelter and snuggled up against Britney with his rear end.

From that day on, Britney and Donny have been a couple.

Over the next few days, they started venturing farther and farther away from Britney’s shelter together. By now, they roam the entire sanctuary side by side.

Donny could still have any of the other pig ladies. But he stays with Britney, and she stays with him.

Sometimes, all it takes is someone who stays until fear gives way to trust.

What Horses Taught Me: Trust is Key

You know that when horses panic, they can quickly shut down their brains and simply bolt blindly. With one exception: If they have enough trust in the person leading or riding them, they often look to that person for guidance and keep their cool. The stronger the trust and the relationship, the calmer they remain.

That’s something I’ve taken with me. In difficult situations, trust helps me. Trust in life. That in the end, life always means well for us. Trust in the people around me who are there for me. Trust in myself, my abilities, and my experience in similar situations.

Trust is the key.

When Clara the Turkey Interrupts Our Meetings

In a meetings on our farm, Clara the turkey always joins us and gets her share of cuddles.

Don't Feed the Snails

One question keeps coming back to my wife Elisabeth and me: How do we deal with the sense of heartbreak about the state of the world that catches up with us from time to time?

Our animal sanctuary is a little paradise. But even here, we can't completely shut ourselves off from everything that's going wrong in the world. When a friend recently told the story of the Japanese "do nothing" farmer, it reminded me of an experience I had almost forgotten.

To help finance our sanctuary, we spent four years growing organic vegetables professionally. By far the most common question our customers asked was, "What do you do about the snails?"

Our answer almost always earned us puzzled looks: "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Of course, we could have used slug pellets [poison]. These days, you can even buy them in organic quality. But we didn't want to burden the soil. After all, our vegetables were growing in that very earth. So we simply let the snails ... be snails.

The remarkable thing was this: it wasn't as if we had only a few snails. Quite the opposite. Tall meadows surrounded our vegetable fields — a true paradise for snails.

And yet they were rarely a problem.

Our focus wasn't on the snails. It was on the plants. We raised strong seedlings ourselves, planted them in healthy soil, avoided synthetic fertilizers, and watered them only during the first few days after transplanting — until their roots had literally taken root.

Then something happened that regularly amazed our visitors. Under almost every head of lettuce, dozens of snails rested in the cool shade beneath the leaves. Yet they left the lettuce itself untouched.

With one exception.

If a plant had been weakened—for example because one of our chickens or pigs had taken a few bites out of it—it often took less than 24 hours for the snails to consume it completely.

Another time, we planted two rows of peppers of the exact same variety. Every single seedling came from the same batch. The first row flourished. The second row, only a few meters away, struggled from the very beginning. We never found out exactly why. Maybe it was the soil. Too much clay? Too many nutrients — or too few? We still don't know. But one thing we did observe: the weakened plants were stripped down to their stems by hundreds of snails in no time at all.

Over the following years, we saw the same pattern again and again. The conclusion has stayed with us ever since: You can't do anything about the snails. They're part of the system. But you can make sure your plants are strong and healthy. The snails won't disappear—but they will hardly be a problem anymore.

And if a plant does get eaten, perhaps a better question than "How do I get rid of the snails?" is: "Why was this plant weakened? What does it need to become healthy again?"

To me, that's also a beautiful analogy for dealing with the pain of the world. I can't make wars, hatred, injustice, or the endless stream of bad news disappear. They're there. As unpleasant as it is, they're part of our reality. But I can make sure that I stay physically and emotionally healthy. I can spend time with people who do me good. I can be fully present here on our sanctuary. I can pet the animals. Laugh. Feel grateful. Focus on the things I can actually influence.

The snails don't disappear. But they no longer get to define my life.

So stay healthy. And don't feed the snails. ;)