Well, where did it all start with me and that wonderful world of animals; defending and speaking for their rights; Veggie and veganism, and yes, the darker world of cruelty investigation work.

When I was a young lad; aged 8 years, I had owned my own dog for about 3 years – a beautiful Shetland Sheepdog (see picture) named ‘Sheba’.  She was a gift from my parents; and having her taught me primarily respect for other living things, as well as taking responsibility for ensuring she was at her best at all times, fed, kept safe and illness free, and loved incredibly.

I was also a bit of a Deisel head even at that age – trucks were my thing, and every weekend I was out on my bike witnessing all the heavy freight heading down to Dover (a major port in SE England) ready for their mass departure from Calais (France) at Sunday midnight which allowed the start of another working week for British hauliers in mainland Europe.  In France in those days (70’s), they were banned from roads at weekends; unlike the UK.

I lived near to a major road route down to the Kent Channel ports; and for a young boy, it was heaven; trucks from all over the UK heading down to Dover all day every Sunday.  Then, one Sunday ‘it’ happened.  My world changed and has never been the same since.

In those days, Transport Ministry inspectors often secured a lay by near to my home, where they (with the police) would pull over heavy freight to ensure they were compliant with paperwork, road taxes and all the necessary for their trip across the Channel and a new working week in Europe.

As I say, I was 8 years old, but I spent many hours up close and dirty as the heavy freight was pulled over by the police so that the Ministry men could undertake their checks.  Scania’s were, and still are, my favourite; https://youtu.be/1lBoP0Qwaeg  – that sound !!

Anyway, one Sunday it was raining a bit, but I was still out; (school all week so you needed something interesting !) watching the big rigs get pulled over.  I watched a lot, and enjoyed massively; friendly truckers always willing to give me a wave, or better still, a blast from their air horns. And then; out of the blue, the police decided to pull over something which I had never experienced before – a livestock transporter.

I went over towards it as it stayed at the checkpoint; but immediately there was something different.  It was stacked high with live sheep.  In those days, it was legal for livestock trailers to not have to be fitted with an upper deck roof; hence the poor unfortunates on the top deck continually suffered throughout the journey in the wind and full exposure to any driving rain.  I could also see through lower deck slats at those cramped together and suffering at lower levels; packed in like sardines in a tin. I knew immediately that what I was witnessing was wrong; simple; animals should not suffer or be suffering as they did.  After a while the transporter must have been given the all clear, and it lumbered back onto the highway destined for the port (Dover) and a final destination somewhere in Europe where ‘something would be done’ to the sheep.  I knew nothing about it or them, but I knew that it (what I had witnessed) was wrong. No ‘if’s’ or ‘buts’.

So that Sunday afternoon, saddened and shocked that this was being allowed; I headed back home on my bike; but, that same afternoon I made myself a simple promise; that if and when I got older to a point that someday I would be a voice for those suffering animals and all others being transported; then I would be !

Cut to Summer 2024; finally my dream of ‘that kid’ aged 8 years, of doing something; and the resultant live export ban on all British farm animals from the UK to overseas destinations became a reality.  But, there had been a great deal of work in between.

I really got deeply involved again when I was around 18 years old; I could drive, had my own car and had started a pretty stable job working as a trainee Technical Author in Military Aerospace Flight Controls; Autopilots and all that jazz.  Every day whilst on my drive to work; using ‘that’ same highway, I continued to witness, pass, shout, and give the finger to livestock drivers headed down to the ports.  Their cargoes were always the same; the silence of the lambs and sheep, the quietness from the intelligent pigs, and what got to me most of all, the bellowing of the baby calves.  Mere babies themselves in need, but deprived of, the milk from the mothers they would never see again.  In my days at the ports protesting against the trade; you could always hear the calf transporters before you saw them; it was heartbreaking because you knew what they were going to – even worse at that time, you could really do little about it.

Above – Baby Calves Arrive at Dover. Photo – Mark

Crated Calves Neck Tethered.

Above – Crated Calves

But, things would slowly change.

To be continued.

Myself with ‘Golda’, another Sheltie.