A Look Inside Chelsea’s Barn Sanctuary

In a small stretch of Chelsea, Michigan—just off the highway where fast food joints and gas stations clamor for attention—you’ll find something quieter. A little haven with pastures, purpose, and a pig named Little Dude (he’s popular and well known).

“I just didn’t want it our family farm to become another gas station or fast food establishment” says Tom McKernan, standing in the shadow of a barn rebuilt after a fire a century ago. His voice is steady, the kind that carries the wisdom of land passed through generations. Nearly 150 years of family history is rooted in the soil here, and today, that legacy includes 140 rescued farmed animals and a growing movement of compassion.

The Barn Sanctuary, started in 2016 by Tom’s son Dan McKernan, has become a refuge for farmed animals—many of whom were once destined for slaughter or lived lives of neglect. It’s also, quietly, become a place where people come to feel something again.

Tom explains. “We’re here to connect with you and inspire you.”

The cows, goats, pigs, turkeys, and donkeys at Barn Sanctuary aren’t here for milk or meat or eggs. They’re here because someone decided they were worth saving. Mike, the partially blind bovine who once rode shotgun to California for eye surgery. Dwight, the coyote-survivor calf who goes to swim therapy each summer. Buttercup, the nervous cow who inspired a children’s book. These are not just animals—they’re residents. Each one with a name. Each one with a story.

And it all started because Dan, a then-social media strategist in Austin, saw a cow by the side of the road, stopped his car, and had a moment.

“He realized,” Tom recalls, “that cows (grass puppies) are just like dogs. They’ve got personalities. They form relationships. And if you give them the chance, they’ll show you who they are.”

Dan’s realization blossomed into something bigger. He used his digital know-how to build a website, register the nonprofit, and crowdfund support with a simple promise: send $25 and become a founding donor. In return, you’d get a sticker. In truth, you’d also get something more—a stake in a dream that now reaches all the way to national TV.

“You might have seen us on Animal Planet’s ‘Saved by the Barn,’” Tom says with a grin. “Twelve episodes. Six months of filming. But this was never about being famous. It was about saving lives.”

Today, 14 full-time staff members care for the animals—ten dedicated to animal care and facilities, and four handling admin, fundraising, and outreach. Every animal undergoes regular health checks, quarantine upon arrival, and trips to veterinarian specialists as needed. Some go to Michigan State, Ohio State or Cornell. Others, like the chickens, get their own eggs boiled and fed back to them to replenish nutrients lost to industrial breeding.

No animal here is adopted out. If they make it to the Barn, it’s for life.

“We’re full right now,” says Danielle Gotham, part of the team that handles tours and community outreach. “But we’re always trying to grow, in the right way.”

Visitors can meet the animals through scheduled tours from May to October. Each Saturday, small groups spend up to two hours walking the grounds, learning the names and quirks of the residents. There’s even a wheelchair-accessible golf cart, thanks to a grant from the Chelsea Community Foundation.

“Rosebud and Mabel, they’re two of our very special residents,” Gotham says, gesturing toward a paddock near the barn’s heart. “They’ve got mobility challenges, but they’re the best roommates. We keep them right here on our Main Street so they get extra human attention.” 

The sanctuary doesn’t sell milk or eggs. It doesn’t offer petting zoos or pony rides. It offers perspective.

“We don’t tell people what to eat,” Tom says. “We just invite them to look at these animals differently. To realize they’re not that different from the pets we love.”

Support comes from donors across the country—and increasingly, from neighbors. The sanctuary hosts online auctions, a spring campaign to repair fences and restock after winter, and maintains Amazon and Chewy wishlists for tangible gifts like feed, supplies, and equipment.

And yes, you can buy a shirt, a sticker, or a copy of Dan’s children’s book about Buttercup’s journey from fear to friendship.

“She was scared when she got here,”  Tom recalls,  “But the others helped her feel at home. That’s kind of what we do—for all of them.”

To schedule a tour, visit barnsanctuary.org. You can also follow their stories—and their snouts—on Instagram and Facebook.

In a world that rushes by on the freeway, the Barn Sanctuary invites you to slow down, listen to the mooing and lowing of cows, and remember what kindness feels like.

And for those looking to support their mission, the sanctuary will be hosting its first-ever annual golf outing later this year. Details will be announced on their website and social media channels.