In the rolling green fields of the UK, two remarkable women are quietly changing the fate of hundreds of animals who might otherwise be forgotten. Their stories, rooted in compassion and resilience, offer a glimpse into the demanding and rewarding world of animal rescue and sanctuary work—a labor of love that is both inspiring and, at times, precarious.
Leanne Clarke, based in the village of Horsford in Norfolk, never set out to become the caretaker of a vast flock. Yet, as of August 24, 2025, she finds herself responsible for more than 80 ducks, over 40 chickens, a lone turkey, and a solitary goose. Her journey began in 2022, when she moved into her new house and, along with the keys, inherited several birds. What started as a modest venture quickly grew into a full-blown rescue operation as word spread about her willingness to provide sanctuary for injured and abandoned animals.
"It's quite desperate at this point, we are running out of room to actually fix them," Clarke told BBC News, describing the mounting pressure as more needy birds arrive each week. Many of her charges are rescue ducks—victims of car accidents, blindness, or even missing limbs. "I love them," she said simply, summing up her motivation in three heartfelt words.
The increasing demand for her help has pushed Clarke to the limits of her resources. In March 2025, she constructed a 30-foot by 13-foot wooden shed, dubbed the "Quack Shack," to house 36 ducks in compliance with avian flu restrictions that required birds to be kept indoors. But even this sizable addition has not solved the space crunch. With poorly ducks now living inside her own home and a growing waitlist—four or five more injured or abandoned ducks expected in just one week—Clarke is racing against time and circumstance.
To address the crisis, Clarke has launched a fundraiser with the aim of building a dedicated duck hospital. As of August 21, 2025, she has raised £4,000 of the £7,000 needed. The funds would cover crucial electrics and heating, especially important as she anticipates another influx of ducklings in the coming spring. "We are going to be inundated with ducklings again like we were this year and getting all the equipment we need to keep everybody happy and alive," she explained.
The challenges extend beyond ducks. As Clarke's reputation grows, she now finds herself on a wildlife rehabilitation list, fielding calls about swallows, seagulls, and other distressed creatures. "It's not just ducks, we are getting calls about swallows and seagulls and everything," she noted, highlighting the ever-expanding scope of her work.
Despite her dedication, Clarke faces a regulatory gray area. Wildlife rescue centers in the UK are not currently overseen by any official body or government department, though the RSPCA has indicated it is "working towards" establishing such oversight. Until then, Clarke's Quack Shack, listed on helpwildlife.co.uk, continues to operate largely on trust, goodwill, and community support.
Farther north, in the rural tranquility of Aberdeenshire, Louise Yule and her partner Mike Kinghorn have spent the last two decades building a different kind of sanctuary. When they moved to a farm near Kintore in search of the "good life" around 2005, they had no intention of starting an animal rescue. But, as Yule told BBC Scotland News, "Most of them were rescues, and it kind of evolved from there."
What began with a handful of animals quickly snowballed. Vets and neighbors learned that Yule would take in unwanted creatures—horses, sheep, ferrets, cats, rabbits, and more—many of whom were old, ill, or otherwise unadoptable. "We're a forever home for animals no-one else can take," Yule explained. Over the years, Halfpenny Farm became a registered charity with the mission of providing sanctuary for animals with nowhere else to go.
The scale of their operation is staggering. Yule estimates that they have cared for about 1,000 animals in total, supported by a rotating cast of volunteers—sometimes a couple of hundred—who help with everything from feeding to socialization. The farm has become a lifeline not only for animals but also for people. "We've got people who come for support with learning difficulties, we've got people who are maybe struggling at school, folk who want to be vets, kids that come to do their Duke of Edinburgh award, some folk looking to get back into work but are just needing that bit of a confidence boost, mixing with people again," Yule said.
But the sanctuary's survival has been anything but guaranteed. Annual veterinary and feeding costs have soared to around £60,000, and earlier in 2025, Yule feared they would have to close. "At the beginning of this year I thought we're going to have to close and was beside myself," she admitted. The turning point came when a volunteer launched a fundraising campaign, rallying "incredible" support from the community. "We would have been under by now if that hadn't happened," Yule acknowledged, though she remains cautious: "Every rescue kind of lives on the edge, I think we just have to be sensible and not take in any more animals until we see where we stand." As of August 24, 2025, Halfpenny Farm is not accepting new residents, focusing instead on the animals already in their care.
This year, Halfpenny Farm's efforts have earned them a spot on the shortlist for the BBC's Make a Difference awards in the Animal category. Winners will be announced on September 29, 2025, in a ceremony broadcast on BBC Radio Scotland's Mornings programme with Kaye Adams. Whether or not they win, Yule feels the nomination is a victory in itself: "We've got a lovely bunch of volunteers, a dedicated core crew. The animals do a lot to help people, and the people do a lot to help the animals. I think it's really nice that the volunteers—and the animals—get acknowledged. It's for everyone, we could not have done it without them. It's very much a little family."
Both Clarke and Yule exemplify the spirit of grassroots animal rescue—a world where compassion is abundant but resources are always in short supply. Their stories remind us that, even in the absence of official regulation or steady funding, determined individuals can make a world of difference, one animal at a time.
