From an early age I have always been fascinated by wildlife and all critters for that matter. I remember begging my parents to let me try to save the baby bird that had fallen from a nest or the little pink mouse that my grandpa dug out of the garden. Unfortunately, I was raised around people who thought saving animals was nonsense and was always taught that animals are here for our pleasure. For some reason that just never made sense to me. Why can’t the tiniest of creatures feel or be as important as I am in this big world?
Starting in my early 20s I begged my husband to build pens so that I could become a wildlife rehabber. In order to become a rehabber, you must have proper cages, apprentice under someone, a vet must agree to work with you, and you must live in an area that allows such animals to be housed there. My husband refused only because we were living in a home that was not going to be the home we grew old in. It wasn’t even the home we wanted to spent 5 years in!!!
After buying a house in the country with enough land and privacy, we started building pens and I fulfilled all of the other requirements. So anxious to rehab my first animal, we would drive up and down the road checking dead opossums pouches to see if there were tiny babies still inside.
I have so many stories to share about my first year of rehabilitating wildlife and even more pictures to share, but that is for another time and another post!