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Lil Quacks Refuge., Christchurch (2026)

05/09/2026

Hey wildling fam!

Remember the tiny wee waxeye we were asked to transport via South Island Wildlife Hospital after it had been got by a cat?

WELL.
WE HAVE AN UPDATE.

The wee dude had some ulcers and injuries around his eye from the cat, so South Island Wildlife Hospital were able to treat all of that, get him comfortable and basically do all the clever wildlife hospital s**t that the do

And then I got told something I was VERY bloody happy to hear.

Apparently he was a VERY GOOD FLYER.

Which is exactly what you want to hear about something roughly the size of a slightly angry ping pong ball.

Then they told us.

HE WAS READY FOR RELEASE.
RIGHT.
GET IN THE CAR.

So off we went to pick up our microscopic passenger AGAIN and take him all the way back to where he originally came from.

This is one of the things I bloody love about being able to help South Island Wildlife Hospital when they ask us.

Sometimes they just need wildlife moved.

Picked up.
Dropped off.
Taken back for release.

And if we can do that bit, we will.
They do the specialist hospital s**t.
We apparently run an increasingly questionable wildlife taxi service.

Perfect.

So we get this little dude back to his home, get ready for the beautiful dramatic release moment...

Open the carrier.
Nothing.
Sir?
You may leave now.
Nothing.
Mate you have literally been medically cleared to GET LOST.

Still nothing.

Apparently after all that he was like actually no thank you, I live in this box now.
So eventually I had to put my hand in and give him a little platform to come out on.
I opened my hand...

AND THEN ABSOLUTELY LAUNCHED HIMSELF.

Gone.
Tiny green missile.
Back into his world like none of this s**t had ever happened.

And there is something REALLY cool in the video that I didn't even properly notice until afterwards.
You can hear his wings.
That tiny little flutter as he takes off.
I dunno man.
There is just something about that sound.

This teeny bird got caught by a cat, had injuries around his eye, needed treatment, needed transport, needed time...

and then you hear those little wings go and he is just
gone.
Back where he belongs.
THAT is the good s**t, that is the true success.

Wildlife Uber has now successfully completed the return trip.

5+ stars for us.
Passenger survived.
Passenger medically cleared.
Passenger initially refused to exit vehicle.
Passenger then left at approximately Mach Fu***ng Ten.

Would transport again.

God's speed wee one enjoy being back home!

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

05/09/2026

Hey wildling fam!

I wanted to talk about the behind the scenes stuff again because I think from the outside rescue can look a bit like:

SEE ANIMAL.
GRAB THE THING.
TAKE IT HOME.
EVERYTHING IS GREAT.
And unfortunately that is absolutely not how this s**t works

There are council bylaws.
Legalities.
Different agencies.
Different rules depending on what the animal is, where it is, whether it is domestic or wildlife and what land it is sitting on.

It is actually a HUGE process for us.

And I get it, because everyone sees me on here talking absolute s**t, arguing with turkeys and disappearing into bushes after birds, so it probably looks like I am just winging my way through life with a carrier and questionable decision making.

But behind all of that there is an entire bloody world of legislation, welfare requirements, phone calls, emails and figuring out who actually has authority over what.

So a few months ago I decided I wanted something more definite.

Because quite frankly, I wanted to cut the bulls**t.
I am not interested in rescue being:

“Someone said council said this.”
“Someone else reckons DOC said that.”
"I think this"
“My mate heard from somebody who knows somebody that MPI might have said…”

Absolutely not.

I do not want rescue decisions being made through a game of government department Chinese whispers, nor someone emotionally wanting feel good endings.

I want the information from the people who actually have the authority to give it.

What can we do?
What can’t we do?
Who actually has jurisdiction?
When do we need permission?
When can we just get on with it?
What do you need from us?
What is the actual legal position?

Because if an animal is standing there injured, dumped, stuck or needing help, I do not want to be waiting around for three people to get back to four other people while everybody debates whose problem it technically is.

That is the exact s**t I wanted to get rid of.

Streamline it.
Get the answers properly.
Build the relationships directly.
Know where we stand BEFORE the next animal is standing there looking at me like:

HELLO.
ANY CHANCE WE COULD MOVE THIS ALONG.

So for the last few months there has been a LOT of research.

A lot of emails.
A lot of phone calls.
A lot of reading legislation that was clearly written by someone who has never had to catch an injured goose in a public park.

And a lot of conversations with the actual organisations involved.

Because if we are going to do this, I want to know we are doing it properly.

Not because somebody on Facebook reckons something.
Not because somebody shouts the loudest.
Not because “that is how it has always been done.”

Properly.

For the animal.
For us.
And for the organisations we work alongside.

And all of that work has actually paid off.

We now have much clearer backing from Christchurch City Council Park Rangers and MPI around stepping in when animals are sitting in council parks or reserves and genuinely need rescue and care, this really is good to have in regards to domestic who fall through every Crack imaginable.

Which is massive for us.

Because before, there could be so much pi***ng around trying to work out who technically had the say, who needed to be contacted first and whether we were allowed to move, it was alot harder working space.

Meanwhile there is an actual animal standing there like:

HELLO.
I AM STILL FU***NG INJURED.

So this means less red tape.
Less waiting.
Less ringing ten different places.
Less relying on someone else’s version of what the rules apparently are.

And more actually helping.

Obviously it does not mean we can just charge into every park like a wildlife SWAT team and start loading animals into the car.

We still have responsibilities.
We still have to make good welfare calls.
We still document.
We still ask when something is unclear.
We still work within the rules.

But having proper clarification and actual backing changes a LOT.

We have also been afforded the ability to help wildlife in parks and reserves where needed too a bit more, without going through the minefeild of asking for permission from ccc, which sounds like a lovely sensible idea until it is pointed out there are roughly a thousand parks around Christchurch heading into spring and summer.

So.
Excellent.
Just save our number under:

CRAZY PARK PEOPLE.

But genuinely, this is the stuff people do not really see.
For rescues, it is not just all of us showing you the cool animal we picked up that day.

It is not just:
LOOK AT THIS DUCK.
LOOK AT THIS BABY.
LOOK AT THIS WEIRD LITTLE GREMLIN WE FOUND IN A DRAIN.

There is a whole s**tload of work sitting behind that photo.

Phone calls.
Research.
Legislation.
Bylaws.
Welfare decisions.
Transport.
Vets.
Paperwork.
Emails.
Working out who has jurisdiction.
Working out what is actually legal.
Working out what is actually BEST for the animal.

Sometimes the rescue itself is the easy part.

Sometimes grabbing the animal and getting it safe takes twenty minutes and everything that comes before and after it takes bloody days.

That is rescue too.

The boring stuff.
The frustrating stuff.
The stuff nobody gets a cute photo of.
The stuff we do at stupid o’clock at night with twelve tabs open trying to work out one bloody sentence in legislation.

So yeah, we absolutely show you the cool stuff.
Because the cool stuff is fu***ng cool!

But there is a massive amount of work behind every rescue that most people will never see.

And I think every grassroots rescue doing this properly deserves a bit of recognition for that too.

Because behind every LOOK AT THIS AMAZING ANIMAL post is probably somebody absolutely losing their mind over an email thread.

Anyway here is our beautiful westlake goose who is enjoying her life with her friends in sanctuary.

We have been so blessed to be given this backing to do more while responsibility is huge, having that responsibility means more time on rescue and a bit less on permissions.

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

04/09/2026

Hey wildling fam!

We picked up a tiny duckling yesterday had been with some lovely humans for a little while.

And holy s**t were they attached.
Which, fair.

You get handed one tiny peeping ball of fluff and suddenly your whole life is:
HAS IT EATEN?
IS IT WARM?
WHY IS IT SCREAMING?
DOES IT LOVE ME?
AM I A DUCK NOW?

They had loved this baby.
Cared for it.
Worried about it.
And you could see giving it up absolutely sucked.

But they also knew something really important.
It needed mates.
Actual duck mates.

Not just humans doing their best and slowly being manipulated by a 200 gram feather mashmellow with abandonment issues.

And this is one of those things people don’t really talk about enough in rescue.

Sometimes the right thing feels like complete s**t.
Sometimes you love an animal SO MUCH and still have to say:
I am not what you need long term.

And man, that is hard.
It would have been easier to keep it.
Easier to tell themselves it was fine.
Easier to let attachment make the decision.
But they didn’t.
They put the animal first.

And I will always have so much respect for that.

For the people who cry when they hand something over.
For the people who message later because they miss them.
For the people who feel like absolute garbage doing the right thing but do it anyway.

That is love.

Not keeping something because YOU can’t bear to let go.

Looking at this tiny ridiculous creature and saying:
I love you enough to give you what you actually need.

So now this baby has joined the duckling department where it will immediately find mates, tip over water, scream for no reason and become part of a tiny organised crime network with absolutely no regard for property or authority.

And its humans can know this:
You did the hard thing.
You did the right thing.
And we bloody appreciate people like you more than you know.

If you find a wee animal give a rescue a call and pass it on, it would be the most rewarding thing you do over keeping it.

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

04/09/2026

Hey wildling fam!

I have spent FAR too much time lately talking to government departments, reading legislation, sending emails, asking who has jurisdiction over what, and generally behaving like a person who owns a sensible folder system, and while I got a great response and have been authorized to do more (more on that later) I do not like this version of myself.

She is suspicious.
So I am returning immediately to my natural habitat.
The yard.

Where nothing is organised, everybody is yelling, something is probably wet for no fu***ng reason, and there is always one bird acting like I personally ruined their life because breakfast was 14 seconds late.

No laws.
No bylaws.
No formal correspondence.
No “please see attached”.
No “can you clarify”.
No sentences containing the words “relevant authority”.

Just me standing outside in gumboots yelling:
WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING YOU LITERALLY HAVE FOOD IN YOUR MOUTH
at a duck who has absolutely no intention of explaining herself.

There will be bird seed in my bra.
There will be s**t on something freshly cleaned.
There will be one animal staring at me like I owe them money.

Brett will be doing actual useful work while I am conducting a completely unnecessary disciplinary hearing with a chicken.
The animals will continue to operate as a hostile union.
I will continue to pretend I am management.
Nobody is fooled.

One minute I am reading legislation like some kind of respectable adult.

The next I am crouched in the mud saying:
mate. MATE. please stop eating that.

This is balance.
This is rescue.
This is apparently my life.

Anyway, here is my favourite as***le.

Punch the turkey

A loud, h***y, feathered war criminal with the confidence of a divorced uncle at Christmas and the impulse control of a shopping trolley on a hill.

He screams. He charges. He starts s**t. He appears at scenes he has no business being at. He looks permanently one minor inconvenience away from declaring himself king of the Ark.

Absolute fu***ng menace.
Zero remorse.
Ten out of ten would hide a body with him.
Eleven out of ten chance he caused the body.

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

03/09/2026

Hey wildling fam!

Every time someone posts FOUND BIRD in a missing pets page I appear in the comments like some deranged bird goblin:

PLEASE DON’T GIVE IT TO JUST ANYONE. CONTACT A RESCUE.

And every time I type it I feel like an absolute egomaniac.

HI YES HELLO, GIVE ME ALL THE LOST BIRDS.
I AM THE KEEPER OF BIRDS.
HAND OVER THE BUDGIE.

I know it sounds gatekeepy, and to be fair there ARE rescues out there who gatekeep the absolute s**t out of everything and act like they are the only people capable of helping.
And no one likes that either.
But there is a difference between gatekeeping and safeguarding.

With cats and dogs people generally understand straight away:

This belongs to someone.

Find a dog and nobody usually goes “oh sweet free Labrador, I’ve always wanted one.”
Birds are different.
Someone finds a budgie, cockatiel, lorikeet, parrot, whatever and suddenly it is:

Awww I’ll take it. I’ll love it. I’ll look after it.
And I know that normally comes from a good place.
But loving it doesn’t mean knowing what it needs right now.

You don’t know how long it has been outside.
When it last ate or drank.
If a cat has had it.
If it hit a window.
If it has punctures hidden under feathers.
A head injury.
Shock.
Dehydration.
Exhaustion.
Birds are champions at:
NOTHING TO SEE HERE, I AM COMPLETELY FINE
While being very much not fine.

Their needs can also be ridiculously specific depending on species and what has happened to them.

And then there is the bond they have with their people.
People really underestimate that.
The last little lost baby we got back to his family they spoke mandarin to him.
That was part of his home.
Part of his normal.
Part of his people.

These are the things a random person looking at a cute lost bird has absolutely no way of knowing.

They know voices.
Words.
Sounds.
Routines.
Favourite scratches.
Little habits.
Little signals.
The weird tiny things that mean nothing to anyone else but mean everything between that bird and its person.

That is also why we keep some identifying details back.
Bands.
Markings.
Words.
Sounds.
Habits.
Because yes, people absolutely try to claim birds that are not theirs.
Sometimes it is genuine confusion.
Sometimes it is basically:

OH HELL YES, FREE PARROT.

So when I say contact a rescue I’m not saying:
ONLY I MAY TOUCH THE SACRED BIRD.

I’m saying get it somewhere safe, with people who know what to look for, can work out what it needs, and can make sure the random person yelling “I’ll take it!” is actually the bloody owner.

Because somewhere there could be someone absolutely losing their s**t looking for their little idiot.

Meanwhile their bird is three suburbs away sitting on somebody’s curtain rail being called Kevin when his actual family are probably calling him something completely different in Mandarin.

That is why I keep saying it.
Thats why rescues jump on lost pets.
Not because I want all your birds.
Believe me.
I HAVE ENOUGH BLOODY BIRDS.

I just want them safe and, where possible, back home with the people they know and love.

Anyway here is little maxie after we had unlocked the magic words his owners gave us before they picked him up, he went from quiet scared wee guy to this in just. Matter of a couple of words......

Anyway if you do find a lost animal call on a rescue and dont give to the first person who pops on, its a matter of making sure something is cared for and finding owners

Also teamwork makes the dreamwork!

03/09/2026

Hey wildling fam!

So we’re driving back to the Ark when I look over and there is a LAMB.

Outside the paddock.
Right beside the bloody road.
Just standing there like:
hello yes I have made several terrible decisions today.

Absolutely not sir.

We turned around, pulled over and I’m doing emergency lamb mathematics, standing there assessing the situation like some highly trained sheep retrieval professional. Which i am not, i have only ever caught two lambs as an adult......

Can we lift him over the fence?
No.
Is there a gate?
YES.
Beautiful.

Now how do we get Captain No Survival Instinct through said gate without him panicking, bolting into traffic, launching himself into another postcode or generally making this far more dramatic than it needs to be?

We start walking around.
Every sheep in the paddock sees us and immediately goes:

STRANGER DANGER. SCATTER. HUMANS HAVE COME. ABANDON EVERYTHING. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES.

Whole bloody flock bolts.
The lamb looks at them.
Looks at us.
Looks back at them.

And apparently has the sudden realisation that he has, in fact, been on the WRONG SIDE OF THE FENCE THIS ENTIRE TIME. Before we can even begin the rescue nonsense, little mate looks at them, looks at us, apparently thinks OH S**T MUM, casually squeezes THROUGH THE BLOODY FENCE and runs straight back to his muma.

Rescue complete.
We did literally nothing.
He rescued himself while we stood there looking useful.
Honestly, possibly the easiest rescue we have ever attended.
Self-rescued.
No paperwork.
No biting.
No s**t thrown at us.
Would rescue again.

But the ending could have been a really s**t one.
He was very close to the road, and it only takes a second for a frightened lamb, sheep, dog, bird or any other animal to bolt straight in front of a car.

So PLEASE watch the sides of the road when you’re driving.
Especially around paddocks, lifestyle blocks and rural roads.
Slow down if you see animals near the roadside.
Don’t assume they’ll stay where they are.
Don’t assume they can see you.
And don’t assume someone else will stop.
Sometimes that little weird thing you notice out the corner of your eye is absolutely worth turning around for.

Even if the rescue then looks at you and goes:

actually never mind, I’ve got this.

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

03/09/2026

Hey wildling fam!

THE ARK HAS RECEIVED AN OFFERING.
A PACKAGE HAS ARRIVED.

And I swear rescue has absolutely ruined me because opening a box of useful little things now gives me the same level of excitement normal people probably get from jewellery.

LOOK AT THIS S**T.
SUPPLIES.
THINGS WE NEED.
TREASURE.

Like these little packages mean so bloody much to us.

Rescue is held together by an alarming amount of chaos, caffeine, stubbornness and tiny useful things.

It’s not always the massive donations that keep us going.

Sometimes it’s a little package.
A bag of food.
Some bedding.
A few supplies.
Something we were going to have to buy ourselves anyway suddenly turning up at the door like:

HELLO, I HAVE COME TO SAVE YOU $27 AND A MENTAL BREAKDOWN. I actually dont know how much this cost I just put $27 ya know for the plot

And that stuff adds up.

Every single little thing someone sends us means money can stay sitting there for food, petrol, vet care, building, emergencies or whatever creature decides to absolutely f**k up our financial plans next.

There is also something really bloody lovely about knowing someone saw something and thought of us and the animals here.

So thank you.

For the big things, the little things, the random things and the parcels of sacred rescue treasure.

The ark accepts your offering.

The rescue goblins are pleased.

Anyway remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

02/09/2026

Hey wildling fam!

Yesterday the bird distribution system absolutely lost its mind and sent us SIX DUCKLINGS AND A CHICKEN.

Six.
Ducklings.
At once.

Because apparently we were looking far too relaxed.

The ducklings came in after their mum was hit by a car, which is just fu***ng heartbreaking. One minute they are following mum around doing tiny duck things and the next their whole world is gone.

So please, especially around waterways, rural roads and new subdivisions where birds are constantly crossing, SLOW DOWN.

Actually slow down.
Not “I’ll probably miss it” slow down.
Not “there’s nobody behind me so I’m fine” slow down.
There are babies out there following mums who do not understand roads, cars, speed limits or why humans have built a giant death strip through the middle of where they live.

These six are safe now, but their mum should still be here.

AND THEN.

Because apparently six tiny feathered squeakers were not enough for one day...

A chicken arrived.

She had been found in someone’s backyard, skinny as anything, with her feathers only just starting to grow back.

And she is BEAUTIFUL.

Like this poor wee girl has clearly been through some s**t and yet she is just the sweetest little soul.

Gentle.
Beautiful.
Very skinny.
Currently being fed like she has won an all inclusive holiday package at the world’s weirdest bird resort.

So yesterday we gained six orphaned squeakers and one extremely lovely chicken who looks like she is slowly putting herself back together.

The ark continues.
Against all reason.
Like I am apparently running a heavily understaffed, permanently overbooked bird hotel where nobody pays, everyone s**ts on the floor and half the guests arrive screaming.

Anyway.......Please slow down for wildlife.
Because I love them.
But I would also really love it if they stopped arriving here because their mums were killed on the road.
They just have absolutely no idea what a road is.

So yeah.
Yesterday’s intake:
6 ducklings.
1 beautiful skinny chicken.
Approximately 900 more things to clean.

Welcome to the ark

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork

01/09/2026

Hey willdling fam!

Facebook just reminded me that we have officially been in this space for a FULL YEAR.

A whole year.

And that has actually hit me a bit because we very nearly did not get here.
We couldn't get the funds together.
We were short, I was stressed, and a friend said to me, fundraise.

And I was like absolutely not.
I HATE asking for donations.

I will happily scream at everyone to support another rescue. Donate to them. Help them. Share them. Buy their s**t. Send them food.

Like asking for us?
Jesus Christ.
I would rather chew my own arm off.
I will point you toward every other rescue before I point at myself and say, hey, actually, we need help too.

But I did it.

I swallowed my pride, made the ask, and people showed up.
You all pitched in.
And because of that, we got this place.
I am getting better at asking now but it still feels weird

Then came the move.

And I use the word "move" very loosely because I am pretty sure normal people moving house do not also answer rescue calls and pick up animals in the middle of it.

But apparently we do.
Boxes everywhere.
Animals everywhere.

Trying to move our entire life while still feeding everyone, answering messages, doing rescues and pretending there were somehow 47 hours in every day.
Absolute scenes.

At the time we had only been public for about a year too.

Going public was something I knew I should do for ages, but I kept finding reasons not to.

Not yet.
We're not ready.
We need more first.
We need to look more official.
We need better systems.
We need this.
We need that.

Then eventually I got sick of my own s**t, everyone saying no and just went:

Screw it.

And did it.

That decision changed everything.
I dragged my son into it.
I dragged Brett into it.
Neither of them really got a vote, apparently
And now here we are.
A year in this space.
A year of building.
A year of rescuing.

A year of trying s**t, screwing some of it up, learning, fixing it, building more, taking in more, crying, laughing, panicking, fundraising, driving all over the bloody place and somehow still getting up the next day and doing it all again.

And none of this exists without the people who helped us get here.

That is not some cute sentimental line.
I mean literally.
Without those donations, we would not have got this place.
Without people backing us, this ark doesn't exist.
Without us being stubborn enough to push when everything said maybe not, it doesn't exist either.

We had f**k all.
No giant bank account.
No big organisation behind us.
No magic rescue fairy coming down from the heavens with an enclosure, a ute and a stack of cash.

We had an idea.
We had animals needing help.
We had people who believed in us.
And we had a fairly unhealthy amount of determination.

So we built the thing anyway.
Piece by piece.
Fence by fence.
Feed bag by feed bag.
Rescue by rescue.
Donation by donation.
We built our weird little ark.

And now I get to stand here a year later, surrounded by the glorious chaos of it all, and think:

Holy s**t.

We actually did it.

And getting to be here, doing this, with my family dragged along beside me, has been one of the greatest blessings of my life.

Hard as hell.
Messy as hell.
Expensive as hell.
Completely worth it.

So here is to our land ark, a year in the building, two years in public, over twenty in the making

And here is to everyone who belived in us for this long and continue to

Truly blessing, honor and privilege it is to inspire people, educate people and p**s people off all in the same day while saving things that dont even appreciate it most of the time.

Also if something is put on your heart to do, just do it, dont waste years waiting, it may turn to s**t, or it may be the best thing you have ever done in your life.....

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork.

01/09/2026

HEY WILDLING FAM.

Yesterday I was making jokes while explaining our position on AI because, genuinely, I found the whole thing so fu***ng ridiculous.

So I explained it in the spirit of this page.

Some people got it.
Some people did not.
Some people were offended.
Cool.
I actually didnt care, as much as some reacted like I absolutely did.
But seen as it has been brought up a bit here is my educational bit for today........

What gets me is REAL LIFE rescue pressure.
The actual s**t.
The decisions.
The expectations.
The constant feeling that everyone has a version of what you SHOULD be doing.

Who you should help.
How you should help them.
How fast you should reply.
What you should prioritise.
What you should spend money on.
What you should post.
What you should not post.
How much you should somehow be able to carry without ever getting tired, frustrated, overwhelmed or occasionally wanting to launch your phone into a paddock.

THAT s**t gets heavy.

So today Brett was at work and I decided I was done with humanity for a minute.

Phone off.
Outside.
Touch dirt.
Move s**t.
Become one with the fu***ng weeds.

We have nearly been here a year and this yard is still becoming whatever glorious mess it is going to become.

There are jobs everywhere.
Piles of s**t.
Half finished ideas.
Things I have been meaning to move since approximately the Bronze Age.

So I moved one.

AND APPARENTLY DECLARED WAR ON A SMALL NATION.

Because underneath it was an entire fu***ng civilisation.
Spiders.
Slaters.
Tiny bugs.
Webs.
Tunnels.
Little chambers.
Hidey holes.
Probably schools.
Possibly a supermarket.
Definitely some kind of local council....

I had lifted one thing and suddenly thousands of tiny citizens were running around like:

THE SKY IS GONE.
THE FU***NG SKY IS GONE.

Now.
I am not a spider person.
At all.
Spiders scare the s**t out of me.
Slaters also somehow make every cell in my body scream despite the fact they are literally tiny armoured potatoes who have never once threatened me with anything.

But I just stood there.

Because once I stopped going EWWWW WHAT THE IS THAT and actually LOOKED...

it was incredible.
That whole little system matters.
Those bugs feed birds.
Those birds feed into something else.
Things eat.
Things die.
Things rot.
Things become soil.
Things grow from that soil.
Something eats that.
Something s**ts somewhere.
Something else grows.
A bird flies in.
A seed gets moved.
Something hatches.
Something gets eaten.
And on and on and on it goes.

It is all one giant completely unhinged system of everybody eating, s**tting, dying and accidentally keeping somebody else alive.

And it WORKS.

Meanwhile humans are over here having nervous breakdowns because Sharon from three streets over does not approve of how somebody else is doing something.

We have become OBSESSED with each other.
What other people are doing.
What other people are saying.
Whether they are doing life correctly.
Whether they rescue correctly.
Parent correctly.
Eat correctly.
Post correctly.
Think correctly.
Use the right thing.
Do not use the wrong thing.
Have the right opinion.
Say it in exactly the right tone.

Meanwhile BARRY THE SLATER IS UNDER A FU***NG BRICK HOLDING UP AN ECOSYSTEM AND NO ONE HAS EVEN THANKED HIM.

And then there was me.
Giant ugly human.

Standing over this civilisation after ripping their roof off because I had decided the yard needed to be “tidier”.

Their homes wrecked.
Webs demolished.
Families displaced.
The local spider economy in absolute freefall.
Basically ecological Godzilla in gumboots.

And standing there looking at the tiny apocalypse I had caused, I thought:

Maybe we all need to give a LOT less of a f**k about other people’s opinions.
And a LOT more of a f**k about this.

What is under the log.
What is hiding under the pot.
What is nesting in the hedge.
What lives in the long grass.
What is crawling through the soil.
What is feeding the birds.
What disappears when we spray everything.
Poison everything.
Clear everything.
Concrete everything.
Rip everything out.

And turn every little wild corner into some sterile beige rectangle because apparently a yard is only acceptable if nothing is living in it.

Maybe nature is SUPPOSED to be messy.
Maybe there are meant to be leaves on the ground.
Maybe there are meant to be bugs.
Maybe something living under your old bit of wood is more important than whether Susan thinks your garden looks untidy.

Maybe we need to stop looking sideways at each other all the dam time and START LOOKING DOWN.

Look under things.
Look in the trees.
Look at who is visiting your garden.
Look at what is feeding what.

Look at the millions of tiny lives quietly happening around us while we are too busy arguing about each other.

So I carefully put everything back as best I could.
Roof reinstated.
Citizens traumatised.
Infrastructure questionable.
Barry probably filing an insurance claim.
And I left their weird little empire alone.

And THAT is where I am at today, so maybe join me wildling fam.....

Less noise.
Less carrying everybody else’s expectations.
Less giving a f**k about people doing things differently to you.

More noticing.
More curiosity.
More leaving a bit of mess.

More giving a dam about the little systems that are actually keeping this planet moving.

And before you move some random s**t in the yard...

knock first.

Because apparently there is a very real chance you are about to become Godzilla to 4,000 tiny bastards who were just trying to get through a Tuesday.

See there is a saying go touch grass, I think so many people use that without ever really understanding the actual value in what it means.......

So to ya all wildling fam or not.....go touch some dam grass.....

Also can I just take this time out to say how amazing and beautiful it is to be afforded a platform where I can speak on all the things a for lack of better words normal rescue page could or would not, this didnt happen by accident, this was a load of work between my self all of you the wildling fam, thankyou for always supporting the chaos, what happens behind scenes and letting this be a place of open conversations.

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

Lil Quacks Refuge.

05/09/2026

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