Full Of Grace Farm

06/12/2026

06/12/2026

The screw-worm closed the board to slaughter facilities… What this Actually means to horses that would-have, have-been, or are going-to ship…

06/12/2026

A devastating report reveals that Earth lost half of its wild animal populations in just 40 years, driven by unsustainable human consumption and habitat destruction.

A critical report by the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) and the Zoological Society of London has delivered a stark wake-up call, revealing that global wildlife populations plummeted by 50% between 1970 and 2010.

By tracking 10,000 distinct populations across 3,000 species, researchers created the Living Planet Index to measure the catastrophic scale of human impact on the natural world.

Freshwater ecosystems suffered the most devastating blow, with animal numbers crashing by 75% due to severe pollution, excessive water extraction, and river fragmentation by dams. Land and marine species have fared similarly poorly, with both groups seeing their populations tumble by 40% as habitats are cleared and species are overexploited for food.

The biodiversity crisis is fundamentally fueled by humanity's swelling ecological footprint, with global consumption rates requiring 1.5 Earths to sustainably support our current lifestyle.

However, this resource strain is heavily skewed; the report highlights that it would take four planet Earths to sustain the average consumption level of a United States resident, and 2.5 Earths for the United Kingdom [1]. While wealthier countries may point to local conservation gains, researchers warn they are simply outsourcing ecological damage by importing goods tied to deforestation and habitat loss in developing nations.

To curb this decline, experts insist on an immediate global pivot toward sustainable food production, resource equity, and aggressive habitat protection.

source: Carrington, D. ( September 30). Earth has lost half of its wildlife in the past 40 years, says WWF. The Guardian

06/11/2026

Voices of the Wild Earth

I WASN’T A GIFT ON YOUR DOORMAT.
YOUR CAT’S TEETH WERE TOO SMALL FOR YOU TO SEE.

You found me by the back door.

A chipmunk.

Still breathing.
Still warm.
Still trying to disappear into my own body.

Maybe there was no blood.

Maybe I even looked “fine.”
Maybe your cat dropped me gently, like a toy it had finished with.
Maybe you thought the kindest thing was to put me back under the bushes.

But please do not release me.

I was not playing.

I was punctured.

Cat teeth are small.
Sharp.
Deep.
They can leave wounds so tiny your eyes never find them beneath fur.

But inside me, those invisible holes can become infection, shock, and pain before the sun rises again.

I am a chipmunk.

I was built for tunnels, seeds, roots, fallen logs, and fast little roads through grass.

Not for being carried in a mouth.

Not for becoming entertainment.
Not for being placed outside again while my body is already losing the fight you cannot see.

Please take me seriously.

Put the cat away.
Wear gloves or use a towel.
Place me gently in a small ventilated box with a soft cloth.
Keep me warm, dark, and quiet.

Do not give me food.
Do not give me water.
Do not try to clean the wounds yourself.

Note exactly where I was found.
Call a licensed wildlife rehabilitator, wildlife center, animal control, or your state wildlife agency right away.

Because if a cat caught me, I need help even when I look unhurt.

I was not a present.

I was a wild life
too small to show you
where it hurt.

Wildlife Center of Virginia warns that cat-inflicted wounds can be subtle and says any wild animal caught by a cat should be taken to a permitted wildlife rehabilitator, even if it appears uninjured, because decline can happen quickly. Florida Fish and Wildlife also advises noting the location and contacting a licensed wildlife rehabilitator when wildlife appears injured or orphaned.

06/10/2026

06/10/2026

Right now, in the warm dark above your ceiling, I'm raising one pup. Just one. That's my whole summer.

I'm a big brown bat. I'm not an infestation. I don't breed like the mice you're picturing — I raise a single pup a year, now and then two, and that's the entire next generation.

My pup can't fly yet. For its first stretch of life it grips the wall beside me while I slip out at dusk to hunt, then climbs back on to nurse when I return before dawn.

I found your eaves because the dead trees I used to raise pups in are gone. A gap you'd never notice was all I needed.

I know you don't love the scratching. Here's the only thing I ask: not now.

🐾 What to do:

- If you want me gone, wait. Sealing the gap in June or July traps a flightless pup inside the wall — and sends me battering the house trying to reach it.
- Late summer, once the pup can fly, close the gap on a dry night.
- Put up a bat house first — high, sun-warmed, near water — and I'll move the whole operation out of your attic.

One pup a year. That's why losing me is quick and getting me back is slow.

Wait out the summer. Then show me the door 🌿