When most people think about the work of archaeologists, they imagine the search for ancient settlements or burial mounds, the discovery of golden Scythian ornaments, Trypillian ceramics, or Sarmatian weapons. Rarely do they consider the study of animal skeletons. Yet, this is precisely the focus of zooarchaeology, a very young but rapidly progressing field of study.

Zooarchaeologists focus on the remains of animals found during excavations. Interestingly, they are not primarily interested in dinosaurs or the search for semi-mythical creatures but rather in species that lived in historical periods and coexisted with humans.

Imagine removing even a single species from the history of our planet, say, the horse, and consider how differently history might have unfolded. In ancient times, the absence of horses would have made interregional contact more difficult and slowed the exchange of information, thereby hindering the development of civilization. If a ruler had left the capital for more than three months, the likelihood of a coup would have been very high. Consequently, states would have been smaller, and small empires tend to be more brutal. Without a mobile army to suppress rebellions at the borders, rulers would resort to terror to ensure that uprisings did not occur again soon. These are just a few examples. It is nearly impossible to imagine life in a world without horses.

This is exactly the type of complex question that zooarchaeology addresses. This field of study explores how the animal world and humanity have coexisted and influenced each other over millennia.

The first professionals in this field explored animals in agriculture, examining which species humans domesticated in different eras. Today, zooarchaeology also helps to study the impact of humans on ecosystems, the connection between animals and climate, and, most importantly, what we can do to protect the environment from irreversible changes.

Humans have always been clever and resourceful predators, inevitably impacting their environment. Homo erectus and the earliest representatives of Homo sapiens were on par with other predators: even if they harmed the environment, it was no more than, say, a tiger. Much also depended on the conditions in which they had to survive. The more favorable the environment, the more impact the predator could have. Imagine a cat landing on an island and encountering weaker competitors and easy prey — the local fauna would not fare well. Ancient humans were often like such cats, frequently dominating certain areas.

However, what began to happen from the late Paleolithic period is of particular interest to zooarchaeologists. It was then that humans began using more sophisticated weapons, mastered the most effective hunting methods, and started to change the landscapes of entire continents.

It is important to note that many people still hold the stereotype of the bon sauvage or noble savage: the belief that ancient people lived in harmony and unity with nature. This view is often expressed about Australian Aborigines or indigenous peoples of the Americas. Unfortunately, I must disappoint you. Firstly, they were not as wild and primitive as often portrayed: Australians mastered seafaring even earlier than Europeans and were generally intelligent and inventive. Secondly, due to this inventiveness, they significantly (and sometimes drastically) altered the ecosystems in which they lived. Australian Aborigines had no competitors in their area in terms of intellect and hunting skills, leading them to exterminate many animals. One of their hunting methods was to set vegetation on fire. Have you guessed why the contemporary Australian bush — the shrubby environment of the continent — is so prone to fires? About 60,000 years ago, the ancestors of Australian Aborigines practiced widespread burning of local forests. This shaped ecosystems that adapted to such fires.

The same occurred in North America: the Clovis culture, during its 300-year existence 12,000 years ago, completely destroyed many species, fundamentally altering human history. However, it is not fair to blame ancient peoples for being insufficiently environmentally aware. Such a stage in human development was predictable and inevitable. Remember, humans are skillful predators, and for a predator, dominating competitors and taking everything from the environment is natural.

However, there is a unique trait that sets us apart from other hunters. Unlike, say, a lion, humans are capable of reflecting on their actions and questioning whether they are doing the right thing. Imagine if, at some point, lions had eaten all humans and wiped our population off the planet. It’s unlikely they would lament, “What a pity, humans were so nice!” In contrast, humans, especially modern ones, have come to understand that despite their negative impact on the environment, they need to reduce this impact and protect vulnerable species.

This is where zooarchaeology comes into play with its studies of the past of these species. First and foremost, it helps determine how populations of various animals fluctuated, where they were widespread, and how humanity influenced all of this. For example, right now, with Dr. Oleksandr Kovalchuk and Tyt Volynskyi, we are researching the fauna of modern Ukraine — the species that our ancestors hunted the most. This is part of the project “Valuable Animal Species of Ukraine’s Fauna According to Archaeological Materials: Taxonomic Composition, Population Dynamics, and Spatial Distribution.” Of course, the phrase “valuable species” in the title is somewhat outdated and underscores a consumerist attitude towards nature. However, it is appropriate when talking about the past. After all, for ancient people, a bison, for example, was more valuable and necessary for survival than a water vole. Valuable species had a hard time because humans often reduced or even wiped out their populations.

Research shows that the most valuable species for people in the lands of Ukraine were hoofed animals and predators, diurnal and nocturnal birds, and sturgeon fish. Specifically, until the Bronze Age, there was active hunting of the eagle owl in Ukraine, which most likely had significant ritual importance. During the Iron Age, they had an easier time, but diurnal predators, especially eagles, buzzards, and kites, began to be persecuted. During the times of Kyivan Rus, there was a lot of hunting for the Eurasian goshawk. Also, the white-tailed eagle was always considered particularly valuable for some reason, yet it managed to adapt and remained quite numerous until the 20th century when these birds began to be systematically hunted in Soviet times.

Observing an ecosystem without comparing it to the past does not provide us with enough information about its normal state. For example, there is currently a debate about the great cormorant — a bird that lives in colonies and settles near the sea and also along the Dnipro and Buh rivers, consuming quite a lot of fish. Fishermen working on these rivers are very unhappy about this and insist that cormorants should be culled. Their argument is that the mere presence of this bird on the rivers is an anomaly; they claim that the birds have moved far from the sea due to man-made reservoirs. However, zooarchaeologists know that the great cormorant has always moved up the Dnipro and Buh during warming periods, even when there were no reservoirs. Therefore, this is not an anomaly that should be eradicated and forgotten but a reality of the local environment, no matter how unprofitable and unpleasant it may be for some.

There are also contrasting stories where we perceive certain species as native, although they do not belong to our ecosystem at all. For instance, the pheasant may seem quite “ours” to many. There is a belief that the ancestors of pheasants lived on Ukrainian territory 2.5 million years ago, and therefore this species is native to our fauna and should be protected. However, after collecting research materials, I realized that the pheasant is a species introduced by humans, probably in the 18th century. Its homeland is the Caucasus, but it could have been brought to Ukraine as semi-domesticated birds from the Mediterranean or Central Europe. Although there is data suggesting that pheasants were found in antiquity, among these remains, one bone does not lend itself to analysis, one turned out to be a duck bone, another a falcon bone, and yet another belonged to a small chicken. Thus, all those identified as “pheasants” were various other birds. If so, it turns out that the pheasant is just as non-native to our territory as, for example, the chestnut. One way or another, they displace “our” (scientifically, autochthonous) species. Therefore, before worrying about preserving pheasant populations, it is worth investigating the degree of their impact on the ecosystem.

There are species that have relatively recently arrived in our territories and pose a threat to local wildlife. We call them invasive species. Some of these species enter new environments on their own, while others are introduced by humans, often due to gross negligence. For instance, jellyfish appeared in the Dnipro likely because aquarium enthusiasts released them into the river. Some insects or snails travel long distances with grain, reproduce in new areas, and then can harm crops. The rose-ringed parakeet is also gradually spreading — this clever and strong bird competes successfully with many other species. Interestingly, it provides an example of the delayed effect of introduced species: nowadays, this parrot seems quite common in the Mediterranean region, but its presence in Chernivtsi raises concerns. In fact, the rose-ringed parakeet is not native to Europe at all — it was brought from India by the troops of Alexander the Great 2,300 years ago. Currently, we do not know what to do with such species — we are merely studying and determining which animals are “ours” and truly need protection and which are alien to the ecosystem.

So, what can science do to preserve “our” species?

First, it can help restore their populations. By studying remains, we know where these species lived and whether their distribution was natural. If, for instance, we want to restore the saiga or the steppe eagle, archaeological finds will tell us where they used to live and where they should be reintroduced. It is also important to know the natural population size, as not all species need to be numerous — some are rare by nature, such as the demoiselle crane. Although it is listed in the Red Data Book, its finds have always been few, especially compared to a similar species, the common crane.

Second, we can predict certain changes in populations to find ways to protect them. Here, for example, we can combine climatology with zooarchaeology. Climatology studies climate as a system that includes plants and animals, and changes in this system involve not only temperature fluctuations but also the appearance or disappearance of species. For example, the great bustard is listed in the Red Data Book of Ukraine — its numbers are relatively high during cold periods and decrease during warm periods. However, as the planet becomes increasingly hot, this temperature change adds extra pressure on the population of these birds. Therefore, we should be more attentive to the great bustard — it is not adapted to new, hotter climate conditions.

I hope that now when you hear the word “archaeology,” you will associate it a bit more with animals and their conservation. Studying the past of animals and understanding humanity’s role in the extinction of some species can be the first step toward restoring vulnerable populations. And zooarchaeologists are taking these steps, paving the way for animal protectors.

Have you ever found yourself still awake at 4 a.m. after binge-watching a series? We know what it’s like to keep hitting “Continue” until you find out the ending. But besides the dark circles under your eyes, TV shows can also serve a positive purpose. For instance, they can teach us something about animal protection. We’ve compiled a selection of examples for you to reflect on and learn more.

Sopha looks over my shoulder. The apples I gave her have been eaten a long time ago. And now she grabs the edge of the lens with her big soft lips and then runs her tongue along the lens. Well, the lens has been licked by a horse. And yet, even so, everything I point it at here seems alive and bright.

Sopha lives in Pegasus shelter among the meadows of the Dnipropetrovsk region.

In addition to horses, there are other domesticated animals, cats, dogs and wild animals — more than 800 in total. How come a small village in central Ukraine had a whole animal rescue centre? Let’s go and find out.

They came from everywhere: Nulyk and goats from the garage roof

About an hour’s drive from Dnipro, and we turn off the highway to Malozakharyne. Having passed it, we roll along the dirt road away from human dwellings. Finally, we hear barking among the paddocks. We have arrived.

“You come here and you have a different mood. You say hello to everyone. It has its own atmosphere that cannot be expressed in words,” smiles Sava, the head of the shelter. “We have raccoons over there, they are inhospitable, always asleep. Let’s go to the pigs instead.”

Okay, let’s go to the pigs. We pass by the stables, and behind them there is the area where the pigs live: a few domestic ones, many Vietnamese and in the last compartment there is a wild boar.

“This wild boar escaped from the farm and we took him,” says Sava. “Only Vova comes in to clean. And no matter how long I’ve been working here, I’ll never go into the stall with the wild boar! To be honest, I’m afraid of him. Come closer, I’ll introduce you.”

The boar’s name is Soma, and he quickly turns to familiarity when we get to know each other: he demands to be scratched. There are special brushes for this purpose. Sava asks the very Vova to scratch Soma’s hair. The man says: “I’m going to him: ‘Soma, Soma!’ — and he obeys. But just in case, I come in with a shovel to shield myself if he gets in a bad mood.”

Soma’s mood is normal. Nearby, goats are being let out of the barn. Sava points to a few of them: “These are Kherson goats — we took them off the roof of a garage in Kherson.”

When the Russians blew up the Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Plant, many locals from the Dnipropetrovsk region bought boats and went to take the animals, the man says. Then about 200 dogs were brought to Pegasus from the city. Among them was little Chapa. Sava recalls: “We were approaching Antonivskyi Bridge. The Ukrainian Armed Forces warned us not to go there because there was constant shelling. We took the risk. As we were leaving the bridge, we saw a dog running. The shelling starts, and we hear it flying… Can you imagine the adrenaline! We stopped abruptly and tried to catch the dog. She was already shell-shocked, afraid of sharp sounds. I grabbed the dog, and two or three shells fell not far from us.”

The local cats have health problems. All those who could be given away were adopted. There are many more dogs. Pegasus can no longer accept stray animals: there are no enclosures. Now they take only evacuees from the hot spots. “This one here is deaf, from Bakhmut, he’s shell-shocked,” they introduce me to an old dog who lives in front of the quarantine house. “And this is Nulyk — do you know why? He came from the front, from nul (‘nul’ is a zero front line in Ukrainian).“

30 rescued pegasuses 

“Well, let’s go!” a smiling woman approaches me with a bucket of carrots.

This is Olena Rusina, the founder of the shelter. We take the bucket with us to the stables, and Bambi immediately reaches for a carrot. Her nose is slightly crooked, but she hardly seems to care. As a baby, Bambi had a slim chance of survival. With a nose defect like hers, it is almost impossible for a horse to learn to eat on her own. Bambi was put up for sale and bought by Pegasus. Here, she had grated vegetables and fruits for a long time and was taught to eat. And now she calmly bites off an apple from my hands.

The first horses appeared in the shelter in 2013, back in Antonivka. Now, in Malozakharyne, there are 30 of them. 

All of these horses have special needs. None of them can be a “workhorse” — some because of their age, others because of their health. Almost all of them were bought from their owners, who had given them to slaughter.

“We received calls from people saying that cows, sheep, horses needed help… But do you understand how difficult it is to make such a serious decision? They need a place, care and maintenance. Even a healthy horse is expensive to keep, but here there’s a sick one! We took the risk, though, took them and it worked out,” Olena recalls.

Among the horses, there is the shelter’s namesake, Pegasus. He had a leg injury, so it was clear to the owners that the stallion would not be able to carry loads or riders. Now he lives here.

Probably, Liubasha, the mare, has the most problems. She suffers from hypoxia attacks: it is difficult for the animal to breathe, and she has to be connected to an oxygen machine. The mare Adele has cancer. The horse Black, a former athlete, can no longer rest on his hind legs as before. These animals should live in a specialised facility.

The shelter is planning to build a hospital for sick horses. It will have a soft cover and all the conditions for a veterinarian to provide on-site care to the animal. 

Ship of the desert

In the stables, another interested eyes follow me. It’s Yasha.

“He is really like a ship of the desert, the way he looks down on us,” Olena says. Despite his absolutely friendly appearance, a camel is a dangerous animal. “I’m always worried that he won’t bite off someone’s head,” says the owner of the shelter. “We give him watermelons, and he bites them into pieces right away. It’s barely a mouthful for him!”

Yasha came here three years ago. Before that, he lived in a zoo complex near Odesa. There were also predators there: when Yasha got cystitis, they decided to give him to them for food. Pegasus employees took him to the shelter.

“Oh, how we treated him… It was like hunting. We waited for him to lie down to rest, and the nurse had to give him an injection quickly in his ass. And after that, he was hunting for the nurse…”

Only Masha, the donkey, is not afraid of him. Indeed, Yasha virtually raised her. So they decided not to separate them.

A shelter that appeared at the dacha 

Olena had a technical degree, and at the age of 33 she decided that she needed something else. The woman used to treat stray animals and had already settled several dozen dogs at her dacha. That’s why she went to study veterinary medicine: “I wasn’t going to work in a clinic — it was necessary for my dogs,” says Olena. “The girls from the training helped me: after classes, we quickly got into the car and went to the dacha. We treated everyone there and came back. When everyone started using the Internet, it became easier to meet people like them. Someone saves someone else, and then there is nowhere to take them! You can’t throw them away!“

That’s how, in 2006, an animal shelter was set up at the dacha that belonged to Olena’s father. However, it soon became too crowded for them. 

In 2012, all the dogs moved from the dacha to the village of Antonivka. Pigs and goats appeared already there. However, they also had to move from Antonivka: in May 2016, a mudslide hit the shelter and carried the dog kennels and enclosures for a kilometre and a half. “The water in the house was up to our necks. We carried the animals upstream in our arms,” recalls Yana, a shelter worker. People and animals quickly moved to Malozakharyne, to higher ground. They started building Pegasus already there.

Well, the father, the owner of the dacha where it all began, was sceptical at first. Now he takes part in the life of the shelter: “Dad helps in ways you can’t even imagine! He used to grumble and grumble, but now he fosters dogs at his place. And I also have a trick: we don’t actually cry here, but I learned how to do it before my dad. We had puppies with enteritis. I called him, crying, and said, ‘Dad, please take them in…’ And he agreed, and even took them to the clinic for treatment. In fact, my father is proud of me.”

Olena’s son Mykhailo also helps the shelter. It was he who built the first enclosures and made the fences for the paddock and the bathing area for the horses. When I come to the shelter, Mykhailo is just building a hospital for sick animals. 

Working days and nights 

Pegasus is divided into 4 zones: the so-called wild zone, cat zone, dog zone and the farmyard where domestic animals live. This zone is a local feature and even pride: Pegasus is known among animal rights activists as one of the largest shelters with domestic animals. 

“A weekend can be a couple of hours. And you are happy to have these two hours. But you stand there and don’t know what to do with them. Because you’re used to being on all the time,” says Olena. She moved to the village. There is no other way: “Sometimes patients are brought to the shelter at night, and I pull the nurse right out of bed. Or something happens to someone, and it’s already the dead of night! I call the doctor and she says, ‘I’m at home, it’s okay, go ahead!’. And then we take the animal to her… This is my way of life.”

Yes, a nurse works at the shelter, a doctor visits, and a blacksmith comes to the ungulates. Olena’s main task is to plan everything, especially the logistics: who to take and where to go. People from the village work directly with the animals, everyone knows each other.

As I pull out the recorder, they gather in the yard near a pile of firewood. Everyone is focused, and one of the workers is aiming at the pile with a net. It turns out that they are waiting for the cat: he needs to have his procedures done, but the sly one is hiding under the firewood.

“If I’m free, I also work with the animals,” Olena says. “The horse Ruslan, for example, must be driven on ropes for the health of his legs. Sometimes I go to the dogs — they need attention and communication. I don’t do the same thing every day.”

Multiplication problems 

Olena shows me her bank statement: “Wow, how far I’m going negative! I have 36 thousand in credit. This is the clinic, hay, pharmacy… And there are not even petrol costs here!”

The shelter lives on donations, and sometimes charitable foundations help with food for dogs and cats. However, hay is hard to get:

“People are more likely to donate for cats and dogs,“ Olena explains. “And if you write that you have nothing to feed your horses… It’s harder. If we had money, when the mowing started, we would have bought hay in advance — the price was better then. That year, a bale of hay cost 50 hryvnias in the season, and now it costs 75, 80, 100… A bale is food for one horse or cow per day. For a camel — 2 bales. For 3 donkeys — 1 bale. But hay is the hardest thing to raise money for.”

Yana and her savages

“Lena acts with her heart. And I am responsible for rationality,” says Yana.

The woman has been working at the shelter ever since it appeared in Antonivka. She and Olena met on New Year’s Eve in 2012. They have been working together since then. 

“I was 17 years old,” says Yana, “and I worked as a dispatcher for a transportation company. Someone threw away a puppy and it was running around near my work. It was so cute. I realised that the dog would get hit by a car if it stayed there. So I started looking for a place to take it. I found a shelter, and they said: either pay money or come to work. I promised to work for them. However, the work turned out to be completely different from what I had agreed on. At that time, someone poisoned the dogs in that shelter. I worked off by collecting corpses.”

Yana did not study to be a veterinarian, but she mastered the protocols for treating wild animals on her own. The shelter gradually began to accept wild injured animals: foxes caught in traps, birds with broken wings. Then exotic animals from nurseries and private zoos came. Most of them arrived sick. 

“Our raccoons are very fat,” says Yana. “It’s my mistake. Shall I put a treadmill or something? There are ropes… Dusya is so clumsy when she chases me away with her hand. I can tell all raccoons apart, they are completely different to me.” 

A steppe marmot, foxes and two wolves have apartments in the “wild zone”. Common raccoon dogs are their neighbours. Despite their names, these animals and raccoons belong to different families. Both are predators, but these are the raccoon dogs that particularly do not mind biting an unwary visitor. Olena laments: “Sometimes schoolchildren come on excursions, but the children manage to stick their fingers into the enclosure. They stand like this: ‘A raccoon, a cute one…’ And they put their fingers inside!”

Amber eyes stare at me from the last enclosure in the “wild zone”. It’s a wild fox. When someone set fire to the dead wood, it got caught in the fire and was completely burned. This fox is the only one who has at least a small chance to return to nature. The other foxes of Pegasus will not survive there: they are either very injured or have long been accustomed to humans. 

Yana plans to equip their enclosure so that the conditions are as close to natural as possible. Perhaps the foxes will even be able to build their own dens. 

***

The car sways gently on the dirt road again, moving away from Pegasus. Iryska, Yana’s dachshund, climbs onto my lap. And now someone is trying to lick the camera again.

Kabachok used to live in Donetsk region. Where exactly is classified as the militarymen found him on a mission. He’s a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig by breed, but more like a dog in his behavior. Out in the field and on the road, he used to live in an empty ammo box. Now, he has a much more sizable home. On his way to the shelter, Kabachok was accompanied by eight soldiers and two journalists.

“He’s completely tame. Eats everything, but we’re watching his diet so he doesn’t gain too much weight. Kabachok should be ‘sportivo’,” says Andrea Cisternino, owner of the Rifugio shelter in Lisovychi.

This svelte Italian in rubber boots used to be a fashion photographer. Now, he has chosen a different mission — taking care of hundreds of animals in northern Kyiv region.

For nearly a decade, Rifugio has been a place for homeless and poorly-treated animals to find a new home. It recently had many new arrivals from Kherson oblast, hotspot towns and villages, and also — pets of soldiers who had to leave for the front lines. Right now, the shelter is housing approximately 500 animals. Nobody knows the exact amount — once the number broke 400, the workers simply lost track. 

NOSE TO THE GRINDSTONE

“At six in the morning I light the wood stove by the kittens and puppies,” tells Natalia from Liubymivka, “while another coworker heats up the one in the kitchen and starts making porridge. Then, I clean up and go help her out. We give the porridge to the dogs, then feed the pigs and clean their enclosures. And the other person goes to wash the dishes, while I go wash the eyes of our kittens. I do whatever other procedures the animals need. After that, we go to clean the dogs’ enclosures. Switch out their water and all that.”

Work continues deep into the evening.

Natalia and her colleague take care of pigs, cats, and dogs. Three other men work with horses, goats, and sheep. The owner also often takes up the pitchfork, but he also has other duties, such as looking for funds to support the shelter. Andrea says, “My main mission is to make sure all of these animals are well-fed.”

FROM ITALY TO LISOVYCHI

Next to the enclosures at the edge of the forest, Andrea also built a photo studio. There’s not much to show right now: the corkboard only has two pictures pinned to it. One of them depicts the dogs Chupi and Bruno, the other — the supermodel Helena Christensen. Both photos were taken by Andrea. In Italy, he took pictures of top models and sportscars. Right here is where he keeps the old and weathered photographer passes for “Formula-1” and various runways.

In 2009, fashion photographer Andrea married Vlada, a Ukrainian, and moved to live with her. By that time he was already involved with animal rights activism, and he was shocked by the scale of dog hunting in Ukraine.

Back then, Kyiv was preparing for UEFA Euro 2012. In order to “clean up the streets”, homeless animals were simply put to death. Andrea says that politicians turned a blind eye to dog hunters — what’s more, the government at the time was directly complicit in animal extermination.

In Kyiv, Andrea got in touch with volunteers who took care of homeless animals. “There was one time I got a call from a volunteer who was taking care of 35 dogs. That day, 20 of them had been brutally killed. And this is just one of dozens of cases that I have documented. Every day, I brought more evidence to Ukrainian politicians, and each time they shrugged and said they knew nothing about it,” says Andrea.

After that, he began publicly protesting animal cruelty in Ukraine. In response, dog hunters published Andrea’s private information on their websites. Since then, the Italian Embassy has assigned him a personal bodyguard.

Andrea and his wife Vlada set one question for themselves: what constructive steps can be taken to rescue homeless dogs? That was when the couple decided to create a shelter — but founding a shelter required massive funding.

What happened next was something straight out of a movie.

On Christmas Eve in Milan, Andrea met a woman who read one of his interviews and asked to meet with him.

“We had coffee together and talked for an hour and a half. Then she asked me if I had any pressing concerns. I said that we had many, but the most important was purchasing land so we wouldn’t get kicked out. She immediately wrote out a check for the required sum. It was a Christmas miracle.”

Rifugio began construction in 2014. At first, Andrea started taking in homeless dogs.

In the very first year, the shelter was struck by a fire. 71 animals died that day. Andrea shows a tattoo on his arm. “Always in my heart.” It’s dedicated to the dogs who passed that day.

The police found no signs of arson, and so no case was opened. But eventually, the culprits came forward of their own accord with an apology. They said they didn’t know what Andrea was doing and why. This apology confirmed Andrea’s suspicion that arson had indeed occurred, but his lawyer convinced him not to sue.

Andrea did not give up because of the tragedy. On the contrary, Rifugio now houses five times as many animals as back in the day and not just dogs. The shelter gets by mainly thanks to Italian sponsors. The shelter also established connections with Ukrainian volunteers. The townspeople, Andrea says, help out as well.

“The locals nowadays see our shelter very differently, all thanks to years of hard work. With our Italian friends, we organized free sterilization days, and people would bring their pets to us. Some of the townsfolk work here, too. If all I used to see before in Ukraine were dog hunters, then now we get daily phone calls asking for help, or people bringing in homeless animals on their own,” Andrea tells us.

And to think that very recently, the shelter had a very real chance of disappearing for good.

40 DAYS OF OCCUPATION

“I was cleaning the stables when I heard two russian fighter jets overhead. One of them started descending. I thought it was going to shoot, and that’d be the end of our shelter. The jet got so low to the ground I could see the pilot,” Andrea says as he describes the spring of 2022.

Later in the afternoon of February 24th, the shelter was abuzz with fighter jets and helicopters. Aircraft battles took place right above the village. Andrea shows us an audio recording of the explosions, “Day and night it was like this, day and night.”

“One of the worst moments happened when we heard that russians were running out of food,” says Andrea. The shelter ran out of food too, on occasion, whether for humans or animals. Even though the staff were making stockpiles a month before the invasion, by the middle of March they had nearly run out.

Andrea lost 12 kilograms and even broke two ribs.

“I was cleaning the stables, slipped, and broke two ribs. Naturally, I couldn’t just go to the russian or chechen soldiers to get patched up. I grit my teeth and waited for Ukrainian soldiers to liberate our territory.”

Natalia lost weight too: she gave part of her rations to the dogs she was taking care of. The shelter staff knew that aid for animals was coming through to Kyiv, but between Lisovychi and the nearest blockpost lay thirty kilometers — a distance nobody could risk braving at the time.

Andrea received offers to evacuate on more than one occasion. Even during the occupation, the Italian embassy insisted he leave the country, even going as far as to develop a plan and receive approval from the military…

“I asked, ‘Will you take everyone — my employees and animals, too?’ They said no, just me. So I stayed with my animals,” tells Andrea.

In total, Andrea spent 40 days in occupation, though he only managed to count that after the fact.

On April 2nd, he says, at a very unusually quiet time he heard a car horn. Strangers were at the shelter. Did the russians climb the fence? One of them shouted in Italian, “Andrea, hello, it’s me!”

“Russian soldiers speaking Italian? Impossibile!” recounts Andrea.

In reality, standing by the gates were the Italian journalist Claudio, translator Tetiana, and a Ukrainian volunteer. Waiting by the fence was a car with supplies — and a Ukrainian flag flying on the roof.

“I thought I was dreaming. Only when Claudio hugged me and I felt the pain, I remembered my broken ribs and understood — this is real.”

MEET THE VIPS

The first large animal at the shelter was a cow by the name of Margo. Now, she also has company in Mikaela. And right next door are two more esteemed signoras.

“Frieda, Frieda, Kapla!” Andrea calls out. Finally, two considerably-sized pigs waddle out of the barn, squinting from the sun. “Oh, buongiorno!”

Above all else, these refined dames love getting mud baths and scratches. The pigs can tell people apart and even respond to pet names.

Aside from domestic pigs, there are also two Vietnamese ones: the already familiar Kabachok and Harry. Though he is Kabachok’s closest relative, their personalities couldn’t be more different. Harry can only be found in the barn, sleeping in the hay. He’s chewing in his sleep, showing off his sizable tusks. Sleeping is his favorite hobby.

“Harry befriended a duck around here,” says Andrea. “Other ducks were bullying her, so she found safety in his company. They sleep and eat together.”

Marcio, Ser, Mina, Mami, Annushka, Roza, and Lola are the sheep community at the shelter. They arrived here from large farms where animals are raised for meat. That’s also how the shelter found their chickens, geese, and ducks.

The goats peek out from the barn. It almost looks like they want to give an interview of their own — and boy, do they have stories to tell. Take Berbek, for example this billy was wandering on his lonesome by the belorussian border when the locals found him and suggested Andrea take him in.

Mary the pony was on her way to a slaughterhouse when Andrea picked her up. Later it was found that Mary was pregnant when she got rescued: she gave birth to Op, and he is no pony at all. The stallion lives in the same enclosure as his mom and is nearly thrice as big as she is.

The racehorse Voron would have similarly ended his career at the slaughterhouse were it not for the shelter’s staff. Thelma and Louise came under Andrea’s care from the mounted police. Another mare by the name of Tatanka used to live in the same pasture with them — she died in 2023 because of a russian rocket that fell next to the shelter. Tatanka’s heart stopped then and there.

“And this one here is from Lisovychi,” Andrea shows us the gray Baron. “He spent his whole life as a workhorse. A woman from the village brought him in because two of her sons enlisted in the army, and she couldn’t take care of him on her own. Careful, he bites! Though… seems like he’s in a good mood today.”

Cats’ apartments

The cats have a separate space from the other animals. Here we can find former strays: some were brought in by Andrea, others by volunteers. As soon as I step in through the door, they cling to me and start purring. Some are trying to climb into my lap, some — onto my shoulders, and all of them are sniffing me curiously all over. You can pick them up by the armfuls, that’s how many there are. 

The feline enclosure is comfortable and fully furnished. People from Lisovychi donated a sofa for the cats specifically. Andrea points to the WC sign: “Our cats can read.”

Outside, Natalia is hard at work. “Cats were trying to drink from the mop bucket, I took it outside,” Andrea says in Italian. “Ah, I had to run to break up the dogs and forgot all about it,” Natalia replies in Ukrainian. “I understand his Italian,” she says. “How? Sometimes through a translator. And then, after a while, you learn to understand each other bit by bit.”

She picks up a stick off the ground and leads me to a completely different world — the world of dogs.

POTAP, DON’T BOTHER BABAIKA!

“Everyone! Quiet down, kids!” Natalia waves the branch around in front of the enclosures.

“You call them ‘kids’?”

“I mean, that’s what they are. Though we call some by their patronymic, too. We’ve got Dina Nikolaievna and Tamara Petrivna.”

The dog enclosure reminds me of a long apartment building, full to the brim with canine residents of all kinds — cheerful and melancholic, friendly and not so much. I can point at any dog here at random and Natalia will know its story from beginning to end:

“I assign them enclosures by personality. Here we have six dogs, and they all get along just fine. We could probably add another calm dog here no problem. When Harold moved in, he was an instant leader. Doesn’t bully anyone, it’s just that he might go around sniffing everyone’s bowls — and only when he’s done, everyone starts eating… And the more aggressive ones, you need to group them up with dogs that have character. They set each other straight. Dina Nikolaievna, shush! Potap, don’t bother Babaika! And this one is Hera. Hera, come here. She’s really smart. Hera, who was making all that noise in the enclosure, hmm? Who did that?”

To feed them all, the workers cook 300 liters of porridge every day. 

“Two of us use mopeds to get around, takes about 40 minutes to feed everyone. And this enclosure we call Verkhovna Rada. Liashko, come here! He’s the most talkative of the bunch. That one’s Poroshenko — the chubby one,” Natalia introduces us to the rest of her dogs. “Behave, I said!” she shouts to the “deputies”.

Many of the dogs here were brought by volunteers from frontline territories. For example, this shepherd from Mariupol was found among ruins by a couple driving out of the city. They just picked it off the road and took it with them.

There are also arrivals from Kherson. Andrea already arranged for four Kherson dogs to be transferred to Italy. Two more are getting ready for their trip.

“We had two dogs come in from Kherson recently,” says Natalia. “They lived in apartments. Enclosures like this were foreign to them. Stasik here… He spent all his time in his dog house, curled up and crying. So we brought him a proper bed and made a little room for him. Two others from Kherson are going to Italy soon. Stasik is already there.”

Later we run into Cefina, an American Staffordshire terrier, who made herself at home in the boiler room. There’s also the playful Lulu and the giant, though no less playful, Lucky. In Rifugio, these dogs are waiting for their masters who are defending Ukraine on the battlefield.

Vuhlyk is a shelter for domestic animals and pets with branches in Kherson, Dnipro and Mykolaiv regions. Its history began in the Lviv region, but a thousand kilometres to the east, the founder of the shelter, Oleksandra Havryliuk-Levytska, found large areas for grazing domestic animals. And also people who were sympathetic and supportive of her work. And a lot of sun.

 Because of the war, Oleksandra and her family had to leave their new home in the Kherson region. They moved by several cars — along with chickens, sick dogs and cats. However, Vuhlyk’s branches in eastern Ukraine are still operating.

Oleksandra Havryliuk-Levytska told UAnimals media how she managed to create a network of centres, resuming the work literally from scratch, how the Kherson shelter lives under occupation, and what lies ahead for Vuhlyk.

About children, animals and sterility 

As a child, I dreamed of a horse and a dog, but my parents did not support the idea of taking care of pets. They cared more about the cleanliness of the house, even to the point of sterility. Now I can understand my parents’ position: the four of us lived in a small apartment in Truskavets, my parents were constantly working, and the pets would have to be taken care of. 

A child cannot take responsibility for caring for animals. Now, I can’t tell my daughter either: “You have a pet — take care of him: clean, cook, walk him.” 

But I believe that any child can benefit from having animals at home. This is confirmed by many studies by the World Health Organisation. Children who grow up with animals have fewer health problems, such as allergies. Their immune system is stronger and their mental health is more stable.

These studies have been published recently — they didn’t exist back in my childhood. Instead, it was believed that everything had to be disinfected for kids, and that any animal brought dirt. I was reminded to wash my hands ten times a day. I had numerous food poisonings because in such sterile conditions the body could not develop immunity to certain pathogens.

However, my child has “eaten” enough dirt. Sometimes she spends half a day hanging out with chickens, hugging and kissing them. She loves chickens.

Physically, my daughter is as healthy as possible. However, she has an autism spectrum disorder, so communication with animals is very useful for her. When the weather is good, we go to shelters, and I let my daughter sit on the horses’ backs. I am against horse riding, but a child weighing 20 kilograms will not harm a physically healthy horse. 

I let my daughter communicate with animals to her heart’s content. These are my dreams that have come true. 

We have about 40 cats — some are blind, some are sick, and some are very old. There is also an old-timer dog, Bobchik. He was already old when we were given him, and more than 10 years have passed since then, so I’m even afraid to think how old he is now. And there is a dog called Babuletka, also very old. She has demodicosis, so we treat and care for her ourselves. 

Most of the rescued cats and dogs live in Vuhlyk, and I only take home those who will not survive in the shelter.

About the first rescued ones — Roger and… Vuhlyk

In my third year at the institute, I was involved in sports. One day, I went to buy a suit for a competition and, on my way, I met a boy in an underpass selling a puppy. It was a pit bull terrier that no one wanted to take because it was born the biggest among his siblings. People were afraid that the dog would grow up to be too aggressive. Of course, I didn’t buy a suit, but gave the money to that guy and took the dog. It was my first dog, Roger.

Because of Roger, I had a lot of conflicts with my parents. They had their plans for my future: they wanted me to go abroad and settle down there. It was hard to do with a dog. So they asked me to give the dog away, to find “other hands” for him. 

Because of that situation, I didn’t talk to my parents for almost a month: when they gave me an ultimatum, I said I wouldn’t betray my pet. We stayed together where we were.

As for the first animal rescue, it was a kitten. I found him more than 15 years ago. Back then, I had just started dating my husband, and one evening we were walking the dogs and heard loud meows. My husband ran to the basement and pulled a small black cat out from under the bricks. We named him Vuhlyk. 

On creating a shelter, conflicts and fire

I have always wanted to save animals, but I’ve also realised what a great responsibility it is. In Truskavets, my husband and I were constantly in conflict with our neighbours because we kept three pit bulls. Although even my parents were joking: “These dogs would rather lick someone senseless rather than bite them.” 

When we started taking in stray animals, we had to move to the village. For this purpose, in 2009, we bought an old, inexpensive house in the village of Brodky and started renovating it.

I thought that on my own rural plot, I would be able to minimise conflicts with people, but it turned out to be not so easy. The villagers had their own ideas about how we should live. And some of the neighbours used to say about us: “When will they burn down?” 

And so, on January 8, 2018, a fire really happened in our house with the rescued animals. At five in the morning, the neighbours from across the street knocked on our door, shouting that our first floor was on fire. We could not rescue our cats from there. But other neighbours helped us to get the horses, pigs and cows out.

For some reason, the rescuers arrived with empty cars. Having no water to extinguish the fire, they first stood and watched it burn. Time was lost. Then they started pumping water from a nearby pond. Although some of the stables on the site were preserved, nothing remained of the house. 

We have no evidence that it was an arson. The police put forward a version of spontaneous combustion due to a short circuit. And I don’t want to think badly of people. 

At that time, I had a six-month-old daughter, and it became an extremely difficult challenge for our family: being left homeless with the baby and all the animals. 

About new shelters, new conflicts, and the value of support

After the fire, a woman from a neighbouring village, Natalia Turuta, helped us a lot. She arranged for other people in Krasiv to sell us the land in instalments. 

At first, there was nothing there: no stables, no water. Just empty land. After the fire, I thought there would be no shelter. I would definitely not be able to revive anything on my own. But Natalia and her husband began to build a fence on that territory, and after a while, we were able to move the animals there. 

The Turutas became administrators of the shelter, continued to care for the animals, and took on organisational tasks. They believed in our project and helped to keep it alive. And when the full-scale invasion began, these caring people went to the front. 

Later, we also started having problems with locals in Krasiv. Although the shelter was located outside the village and could not bother the residents in any way, it somehow did. People complained that the animals were defecating and stinking. By the way, pig farms, where animals are fed for slaughter, are also mostly located close to villages, but for some reason, the stench of their excrements does not bother people.

In our conflicts, it came to a village meeting to evict the shelter from the outskirts of Krasiv. They explained that it was supposedly a recreational area (in fact, it wasn’t).

I started looking for new locations to move the animals to when the locals ran out of legal ways to force the shelter out and started causing harm. For example, someone destroyed the bridge we built on our own to get to the pasture across the river. 

All our branches were formed after we left Krasiv. I realised that I would not be able to resist the pressure. We tried to provide “foster care” for our animals in different parts of Ukraine and looked for other stable housing options for them. The issue of finances was always acute because somewhere the rent was raised.

So, we moved some of the animals from Krasiv to the Mykolaiv centre. It already existed: earlier we were looking for new places to expand, and a friend of ours recommended this location. We do not disturb anyone there, as the neighbouring village is far away.

We took another group of animals from Krasiv to the Dnipro branch, and another one — to the Kherson shelter. Both locations were established that way. 

I would not have opened any other centre if it were not for the opposition to those who wanted to expel us. I can thank these difficulties because they helped Vuhlyk grow. Now, we have three shelters, and we are building the fourth one. Previously, there was a farm in Vasylivka in the Dnipropetrovsk region, but now it is very noisy, and it is often struck with missiles, so this branch has already been relocated to the village of Balivka for two years. 

Here we have good relations with the village council and local residents. They allow us to graze our livestock in different areas, sell at a cheaper price or give us crop residues. Vuhlyk needs more extensive support, but it is very nice to know that we are not harassed. 

Who lives in Vuhlyk

We have a lot of dogs and cats. There are also many horses, cows, and pigs. There are goats, sheep, and even ponies and donkeys, which are much smaller in number because they get into difficult circumstances less often than others. Most of all, we have cows and pigs. 

We take in as many animals as we can afford to keep. There were cases when people simply gave us their domestic animals because they were moving out of their homes. Also, 5 goats rescued from the front line by Azov soldiers (our volunteers took the animals from Kharkiv, where the military had taken them) were admitted to the shelter free of charge.

However, in 99.9% of cases, we buy back domestic animals from their owners. When people are in difficult financial conditions, it is important for them to have this money in their budget. I cannot blame them. 

However, it is difficult to determine a fair price for an animal. When we start raising funds for the redemption of an animal, we have to justify its cost, transportation costs, etc. to our followers. Our organisation is not an animal repurchasing business. When, for example, they put a price of 40,000 hryvnias for a horse, my answer is: “Sorry, we can’t afford it.” The idea of rescue is lost. 

About ahimsa and other principles of shelters for domestic animals 

I know only one shelter in Ukraine that is similar to ours — Rifugio. The rest have a different format: they are engaged in farming, selling milk and cheese. 

There is such a concept as “ahimsa” — harmonious coexistence with a cow. The calf stays with its mother and drinks the milk that was created for it. And a human only shares the milk with the calf, but does not take it away completely. There are shelters with such philosophy in Ukraine, and they rehome many animals.

Our philosophy is different. We want the animals at Vuhlyk to live the life they are meant to live —without being exploited for life. At Vuhlyk, not a single cow gives milk. And only those animals that arrived at the shelter pregnant give birth.

When a cow comes to us after a dairy farm (if the animal is healthy), at the beginning, she goes into heat on schedule: every 21 days. But later on, the sexual cycle does not take place as often as it does on farms. A cow or mare that does not feel males around stops entering regular “heat”. 

To prevent fertilisation, we castrate male animals. However, we do not sterilise female cattle: these operations are extremely complicated and can endanger the health and life of animals. This is not common practice in the West either, as far as I know. 

In Ukraine, I still do not see any large-scale steps on the part of society to save domestic animals in particular. Our subscribers are a limited group of people, and in general, there are very few people willing to save domestic animals. 

People still come to us, asking: “Why do you ask for money to keep animals, why don’t you give the livestock away to people?” 

As for adoption, we do not give animals “to families”, although in our practice there are cases of successful adoptions under an official agreement. However, there were also such situations when new owners “disappeared”. They did not even provide a small photo report documenting what was happening to the animal.

According to the agreement, if a person improperly keeps an animal and does not provide a photo report, he or she undertakes to pay for the transfer of the animal back to the shelter. However, people did not comply with these conditions either: we came and took the animals back at our own expense.

About rehabilitation programmes

Today, even statistically, more and more psychosocial problems are being recorded in children. Therefore, the rehabilitation of children with various disorders is a very, very important and significant part of our lives. 

Before the start of the full-scale war, children came to Vuhlyk not just for excursions — they could interact with the animals, for example, feed them. Such format of communication takes place only if the animals want it.

The main value of Vuhlyk is that animals do not owe anything to anyone. We have horses that want to be petted all the time: they come up, put their backs and butts to you and always ask for attention. And there are those who are like “Hey, don’t touch me.”

Equine-assisted therapy is a delicate science. It should not be like this: put a child on a horse, ride it and goodbye. Hippotherapists must complete courses, obtain diplomas in this area of treatment and be competent and responsible in their attitude to both animals and those being rehabilitated.

About the shelter under occupation and money for rescue

Our Kherson branch is located in the temporarily occupied territory. There is a photo on Instagram with a story I could not keep silent about: the Russian occupiers severely beat a shepherd and shot a cow, after which they cut off her front legs. 

I document all the atrocities committed by Russians against our animals. However, I will be able to talk about most of the cases only after the war is over and that shelter is free. Now I am silent for the safety of the animals. Every day I think and worry about whether they will survive at all.

The territory where the shelter is located was occupied a couple of hours after the full-scale invasion. Cars with animals were shot on the roads, so unfortunately, there were no options to take the animals out. There were other farmers there who wanted to evacuate, but couldn’t. Therefore, I took out in three cars only those animals (weak cats and dogs, chickens) that lived directly in my house in Chornobaivka.

It costs 6.5 thousand euros to take one large animal from the occupied territory through third countries, which is unaffordable for our organisation. I can only pray that all the bad things will pass over the people and the animals we rescued, who are now living in the occupation.

A little more about money 

Vuhlyk would like to become independent. But so far, we have not found a way to make the shelter independent of outside funding.

There are several small volunteer organisations from Japan, U.S. and the UK that are gradually supporting us. We have not yet managed to get any large organisation interested. 

It is difficult for foreigners to feel the importance of our project without being here. Of course, we regularly film and photograph animals, write posts on social media and provide reports on how we spend the money donated. 

In fact, we mostly depend on ordinary people donating one or three dollars to us. I think that the world is changed by ordinary people: they do great things even with a little help. 

I am the only one who deals with communication and attracting new patrons. Resources are limited, and I believe that any work in our project should be paid for, including the work of future marketers or grant managers. 

On personal motivation to save animals and plans for the future

Communicating with animals makes me happy. The most joyful thing for me is to see the result. Looking at the rescued animal and noticing the changes that have taken place. 

We joke at the shelter that we don’t have people riding horses, but horses — people. I am fully committed to my work, I live for the sake of the animals I have rescued. It’s hard, and there are times when I want to give up. Then I go to the shelter, sit down next to the animals, pet them, and my motivation is immediately restored.

When we lived in the Kherson region, it was close to all the branches. At that time, I could constantly communicate with the animals.

Now I am farther away from the shelters. What’s more, the weather is not conducive to travelling, and I cannot always miss my daughter’s rehabilitation classes. But once a month I go to see the animals. I believe that any activity demands full engagement, dedication, and immersion in the work, truly feeling it.

The shelter has had bad and good times. But I think if you keep working on something, it will develop. I really want Vuhlyk to become better so that you can walk into any of our shelters and say: “Wow, how cool everything is here.”  I understand that we are still very far away from this.

Our Mykolaiv branch is exemplary. It has existed for five years, and major repairs have already been done there. And the Dnipro branch has already moved three times, so it is constantly under construction. But we have a vision, so I hope that in a few years, it will become a reality as we dream.

I believe that all animals, without exception, deserve another life, and I really want to give this “another life” to as many animals as possible.

 

The cover photo is from Oleksandra’s personal archive.