Mulie came to WRR very soon after we acquired the new sanctuary. I knew that finally WRR could begin rescuing animals who are commonly found on farms, and in Mulie’s case, petting zoos, and bring them here to the peace and quiet of the sanctuary. He was in terrible condition, bad teeth, a bone thin body and he was tired. Tired of being used as an object of entertainment. But there was no questioning the spirit of this brave and handsome fellow. Mulie was insistent in his reluctance to be held back; he knew what he wanted and went after it. Above the gate was his favorite place, there he found all the scratch and other duck and chicken treats he could hope for and there was that magical edifice known to us as the Nutrition Center and to Mulie, the place where all good things begin.

It took us awhile to determine why the chickens, ducks and geese were consuming so much food. I just assumed that with all this land to roam about they had increased their dietary needs. I realized that was not quite true when one day I watched from an admin building that was yet to evolve to our offices and there at the lower gate stalked a very quiet, very determined red Mule; he had his eyes and nose set on a black tub filled with scratch and veggies. He made a graceful beeline to his quest, what he had not planned on or noticed was that I was making the same beeline for him. We met at the black tub and he was crestfallen when he realized the game was up. It was not the last time Mulie sought out and all too often found his junk food. But at least we put some serious restrictions on his addiction.

Mulie was one of the most patient fellows I have ever had the pleasure to know. When Cletus found his way to WRR, he made it very clear from their first encounter that Mulie was his long lost brother and beloved friend. Mulie had no such notions. Cletus was set free below the gate to wander about with the donkeys but he had other plans. When first he laid eyes on Mulie he called out from the trailer, letting Mulie know that he was here and simply could not wait to rejoin his comrade. Once free, Cletus made a hasty departure from the donkeys and found his Mulie. Mulie took one look at this interloper and knew he didn’t have the time or the interest in a new relationship. Cletus would not be put off and in the weeks that followed Mulie realized he had no choice but to give in and take his new little brother under his wing. For years to come if you ever wanted to find Cletus all you had to do was to look for Mulie, the patient patriarch, the loving and tolerant adopted big brother, the grand fellow who taught each of us how to be a better person, a more loving friend and to live our lives with great dignity and profound grace.

Dear, dear Mulie, you have gone from our hands but never, never will you leave our hearts.

We will miss you all the days of our lives.

Lynn

These experiments must stop and you can help. We need many voices to speak out against these cruel procedures. Please contact Texas Tech University Health Sciences Center as soon as possible to ask them to end these unnecessary and cruel practices on innocent creatures.

Dr. John C. Baldwin
President’s Office
Texas Tech University Health Sciences Center
3601 Fourth St., Stop 6258
Lubbock, TX 79430
Email: John.Baldwin@ttuhcs.edu
Phone: 806-743-2900

Thank you for speaking up for animals. Your support does make a difference.

Wild animals are complex and unique in many aspects. The manner in which they care about and provide for their young is quite different than that of human animals. Mother raccoons and skunks spend hours away from their young each night as they forage for food. With squirrels this time apart occurs during the day. Both parents care for the young in most species of birds, there will be times during the day when neither parent can be seen as they are out finding food for their hungry youngsters. White-tail deer mothers will leave their fawns for as many as 14 hours a day as they are out feeding with the herd. Though this may seem odd to us, it is completely natural and safe for these animals.

Wildlife Rescue & Rehabilitation asks that people respect these differences and not assume that when a baby or young wild animal is observed that he or she is in need of human assistance. Instead it is better to contact us and we will ask for the information critical in determining if the young animal needs help.

It was nearly six months ago that the clinic staff at WRR took this three-legged sheep named Wylie in with the intention of revising his poor physical state. A kind-hearted couple brought Wylie to the clinic, informing us that he had been attacked by a coyote. Though still a baby when handed over to WRR, Wylie is getting bigger every day. Having reached 80 lbs., his legs are giving out and his daily life consists of lying immobilized in the shade. Everyone at WRR wants to see Wylie live a happy, active life, especially his best friend, a little goat named Puddin, who was brought in to the clinic around the same time as Wylie.

Deemed by specialists as having little chance of recuperation, Wylie isn’t without hope. The WRR veterinary staff made casts of Wylie’s two front legs. The casts were sent to an equine specialist in New York , who used the casts as models to frame braces that would stabilize Wylie’s two front legs. This stabilization is needed since his weight isn’t able to support his legs underneath him. However, the braces hold little value without a mechanism to move Wylie around. That is why WRR is eager to get Wylie a cart that will fulfill his need to get about. If the cart works for him, he can use it to roam and play to his heart’s content.

Donations for Wylie’s cart can be made on our website at www.wildlife-rescue.org.

It’s not every day that you see a three-week old calf running across the highway in San Antonio, TX. But someone did, and that’s how Gracie, this adorable girl, ended up at the dog pound, where, luckily, long-time WRR volunteer Jim Graham came upon her and notified us. Jim knew that Gracie wouldn’t be happier anywhere else than at WRR, so the sanctuary quickly became her new home.

Gracie was instantly one of the new favorites among the staff, interns, and volunteers. You would understand why if you ever got to see her running playfully through the fields and hopping up and down excitedly at the sight of a caretaker approaching her.

Even now, having doubled in size, Gracie is just as lovable as she was as a tiny calf. No longer nursing from a bottle, she has taken to grazing instead of romping and frolicking. That doesn’t mean she’s not just as cute as she was on the day she was brought in. Still too small to live in the big field with the adult cows, she stays in a small pasture near the front, where everyone routinely stops to fuss over her because it’s just too hard not to.

Settled into her bright new home, Gracie can now look forward to a peaceful and joyous existence, surrounded by lifetime friends and a phenomenal family. Like all the creatures at WRR, her life will be a pampered one, and her entity will be safe and protected.

 By Lynn Cuny, Founder of Wildlife Rescue

Here at Wildlife Rescue & Rehabilitation every spring brings with it a new Baby Season. As you know, this is the time of year when for most native wildlife the mating of the winter months culminates in the birth of their young. If all goes well and the Animals are allowed to do what they have been doing for countless centuries, mothers and/or fathers and in some cases both, will skillfully and lovingly raise, care for and protect their youngsters. But sometimes, all does not go well.

Wildlife Rescue had, to say the least, humble origins. In the early days, the “sanctuary” was my back yard, funding was an early morning paper route, and WRR “staff” consisted of my parents, a few incredibly hard working volunteers, and yours truly. Many things have changed over the years but one element that has remained is Baby Season.

One of the more memorable babies, who was first a victim of human actions and then a beneficiary, was a unique baby Raccoon. Her story was somewhat unusual—a jogger on her morning route heard cries coming from an open pit on the far northwest side of San Antonio and called Wildlife Rescue. A construction site had not been properly maintained or cleaned and a large pit was left open as a death trap for unsuspecting Animals.

 It was an easy spot to find, for when my mother and I arrived early that morning we had only to follow the plaintive call of the baby. There about seven feet down in a rock well sat a sad, scared and no doubt hungry baby Raccoon. There was something about this little one that especially caught our attention, but for now the task before us was to retrieve her from this hole. We tried dangling a heavy rope but the youngster was too frightened; she would only shy away into the other side of the well.

We knew one of us would have to go down there in order to save her, and I was the best candidate as my dear mother was in her 60’s and had probably had all the adventures she needed while raising me and my five siblings! We tied the rope to a nearby tree and down I went. Once I was at the bottom, which was not all that far since I’m just shy of six feet tall, my mom handed a blanket and carrier down to me. The  little Raccoon was the palest shade of brown, her characteristic mask only a shade or two darker than her thick, soft fur, and though this was striking enough, there was something else about this girl that was just “not quite right.”

I collected the frightened youngster in the blanket and placed both gently into the carrier. With the help of Mom, I crawled up the rope, baby safely in tow. Soon we had her home, her bottle of formula warmed and ready for her lunch. As we took her from the carrier, I handed the little one to my mother’s loving arms and as she coaxed the new arrival to accept the bottle, Mom looked over at me and suddenly we realized what was wrong. In those days the condition was termed “water on the brain.” This poor, frightened little girl had been born with both an irregular coloration and a considerably more serious condition, which we now refer to as hydrocephalic. There was nothing to be done for her; there was no treatment.

In the weeks that followed there would be many challenges for the sandy colored Raccoon. Her tiny mouth and soft pink lips were not able to suck and she had to be tube fed, a procedure she was not at all happy about. But with much patience and literally hours of care given her by Mom, the infant learned to suck from a preemie nipple. She could take only small quantities of formula per feeding and since she had a healthy appetite, the feedings were offered every hour, usually well into the wee hours of the night. One way to accomplish this was to take her along on my early morning paper route, but most of her time was spent in the care of my mother, often with the encouragement of my dad as he watched over the two of them.

Many other Animals were being brought to WRR in those early days: Doves and Pigeons, an occasional Fawn, infant Skunks, Squirrels and Opossums, and one very elderly grey Fox who was found eating peaches that had grown ripe and fallen to the ground. The Fox was ancient, without teeth and missing large patches of fur, but she was a survivor and had been able to sustain herself on the bounty of just one tree, until the land owner trapped her one summer night. Somehow space was made for each of these and care was gladly offered. In the midst of all the Animals who came, were cared for, and then set free, the exceptional Raccoon remained. She was not growing, she could not really develop, but her spirit was bright and alive and her determination was unmatched.

This plucky youngster did her best as she learned to walk and ever so slowly crawl awkwardly over the thick, rough oak logs that we placed in her large cage. This was where she spent most of her time; she would sniff and scratch at the logs and struggle to overcome her clumsy gait. She had a special attraction to the oak logs. From our perspective they were there for training; they were her physical therapy equipment, but for the Raccoon there was a very different relationship. I could not identify it at the time, I had no name for what was taking place but when she came within reach of those oak logs, there was a profound change, a shift in her demeanor. Neither my mother nor I had any illusions about this baby; we knew her life would be cut short by her handicap and that there was a distinct possibility we would be faced with euthanizing her if she began to show signs of suffering. But what we learned as the weeks and months passed was that though this Raccoon was, in our view, impaired, she had a definite plan for her life.

She had come to us early in the spring and by late summer the tawny-colored youngster was able to eat from a dish, swim in a shallow pool and best of all, she had overcome her ungainly manner when climbing her precious logs. Now it was time for her to graduate. She had been spending her days outside in the sunshine and often another incoming Raccoon had been the ideal companion for her. But they always grew strong and moved on so that one day they could be set free; that day would never come for her and I have no doubt that she fully understood her path in this life.

It was a gorgeous late August day; the expanse of sharp blue sky was broken by clusters of billowing white clouds that helped cool the afternoon. The baby Raccoon had grown only a little for her age so that now she was the size of a young cat. My mother and I knew that the challenged little girl wanted to climb and today was the day we decided to give her the opportunity. There was a mid-sized tree in my backyard and after placing pillows all about the base of the hackberry, we sat her there and let her make her choice. It was only minutes before this special baby was on her way. The scene was one of both joy and heartache. Her small body was strong but not so agile when it came to climbing, yet this made little difference to her. She placed one determined paw in front of the other as she made her way up the trunk. Her eyes shone bright with excitement; how long had she wanted to do this, how long had she known what we were just realizing?

In only minutes she was up in the leafy branches of the welcoming tree. The fearless Raccoon grabbed at tender, green leaves, brought them gingerly to her mouth, tasted and felt of their texture and flavor. She perched and stretched, stumbled and almost fell, but held fast as this was her time and she was not to be denied a moment of it. She and the tree seemed to become one in the experience; it was this union that had brought about the change in her demeanor when first she approached her oak logs, it was this perfectly natural, absolutely innate behavior and love of a Raccoon to find herself a tree, that place that called to her, and that no matter her physical impairment, she responded to. She had been in the company of water and grass, of logs and rocks, but in her brief life she had yet to climb and now, in her own clumsy fashion, she was at last climbing.

She spent the entire day in that tree; she did not venture down for water or food; she did not grow bored with or tire from her time spent amongst those branches, leaves and limbs. When the sun was about to set and I was about to climb up to get her, she generously acquiesced and saved me the trouble.

My mother and I were forever moved and changed by what we saw that day and looking back, I think we both realized what we had witnessed, for early the next morning we found that preciously special youngster had died in her sleep. She had overcome what most of us can only imagine and she had done so with grace, joy and a dignified determination. I have never forgotten that baby and years later my mother told me how her heart went out to her the very moment I placed her in her arms.

There is a Spirit in every Animal. That Spirit is precious and often, to us, indefinable and unrecognizable, but nonetheless, it is forever present in every Dog and Cow, every Elephant and Chicken, every Worm and Lion. For each of these is endowed with what we sadly fail to or are afraid to recognize. But make no mistake—the Animals know this, and if we are wise and pay close attention, we may one day share in their knowledge.

 
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A pile of Baby Skunks

All in a day’s work….by Petra Franzen, Clinic Manager

    The clinic at Wildlife Rescue & Rehabilitation, Inc. opens its doors at 6am every morning, and the clinic caretakers immediately begin to prepare formula for the smallest of the orphaned wildlife. 

Small lamps light the room as the week-old squirrels and opossums receive their first feed.  By 8am, the sun has awoken the baby birds and you hear the first chirps down the hallway. 

The grackles and mockingbirds can be distinctly heard from the kitchen, letting you know their feedings should begin.  The young nestlings must be fed every 20 minutes while the fledglings hop around their cage trying to master the skill of catching a moving insect.  Some species, such as the finches, catch on very quickly while others, such as the young blue jays, need a bit more coaching and encouragement. 

 By mid morning, juvenile raccoon kits wake up to the smell of food in the air and they start to search their enclosure.  They do not search quietly.  Raccoons have well over a hundred different vocalizations and they let the caretakers and neighboring raccoons hear all of them.  

By noon, caretakers might be spraying odor neutralizer down the hallway because a baby skunk became frightened by a loud noise or even at the sight of a human, which can be terrifying to any wild animal.  The skunk spray does not make the caretakers uneasy.  In fact, it gives them assurance that the skunk will be ready to use this self defense mechanism once he or she is released back into the wild.   

In mid-afternoon, most of the young mammals are calm and quiet, as they are trying to expend little energy during the height of the summer heat.  A second shift of caretakers begin their work day mid-afternoon and the feeding and cleaning continues. 

The cottontails can never have enough grass to nibble and the juvenile doves are still picking up seed.   

As the sun goes down in the evening, some animals are quieted by the darkness while others welcome it and start to awaken.  The twenty-minute bird feedings come to an end, the fawns find a patch of tall grass to bed down in, and by now, the raccoons have successfully brought all their food into their water bowls. 

The last round of medication is given out to those individuals who have come across the misfortune of not only becoming orphaned, but injured as well.  The last clinic light is finally turned off by 12am and the animals are finally free to rest without the sound of a human nearby. 

The next day, whether that day is a week day, weekend or holiday, the process begins again bright and early.     

One of our baby Squirrels

Just another Happy Sanctuary Resident

I am an incredibly lucky person.  I have a job that is personally very rewarding.  Before coming to Wildlife Rescue & Rehabilitation, I worked for 8 years at the Chicago Symphony Orchestra where I saw every day people who felt deep down that they were doing something important to them.  At the end of the day, their part in creating beautiful music, whether it was as a musician, artistic adminstrator or finance managers, they used their skills and talents to create music and that was fulfilling.  I shared their appreciation, but envied their complete commitment, so I embarked on a personal journey and eventual job search that led me to WRR.

Wildlife Rescue’s 187 acres are home to so many wonderful animals, and the first day I visited nearly 5 years ago for my interview I knew I had found the place for me.  Lynn Cuny, our Founder, drove me around the sanctuary and I saw the 4 acres that was home to cougars, the acreage for the 4 African and Asian lions, and monkeys and monkeys and more monkeys all with groves of trees to climb, the names of whom were like a foreign language, but when we stopped and talked by the pig pasture, I knew what this organization was truly all about.  Every animal is equally valuable.  Lynn and as I later learned, the organization too, places no heirarchy on life.  The spiders and wasps that make their home under the eaves of our office building are afforded the same respect as the lions and wolves and other more “popular” animals.  I had found the place that shared my own values and a place that I could contribue my skills and talents to something truly meaningful to me.

Many wonderful and funny things have happened in the 4.5 years since I moved to Texas and began my position managing the organization.  Things that my friends and former colleagues find entertaining.  Stories of a bull arriving in the middle of the night shortly after I first started to the baby goat that urinated on me (yuck!) just a couple of weeks ago and all of the fascinating, exciting, and amusing things in between.  Every day, this organization saves lives and I couldn’t be happier to play a part in that.

Now that WRR has a blog, I’ll have to share my stories, and I look forward to reading all of yours too.