Something with a Lifespan
Morgan DePue | December 2017
Instead of holing up in my cottage and binge-watching Netflix for Spring break, I took a peer leader position and hauled a vanload of ten volunteers to the Exotic Feline Rescue Center (EFRC) in Center Point, Indiana. Frankly, that was the reason I chose to come to Appalachian State. I wanted to get close to big cats, to learn about them by working with them, because my vague and somewhat naïve goal when I decided to return to school was to save the big cats. I cannot imagine a world without tigers and they currently occupy a spot on the IUCN endangered species list.
I’ve had a love for these cats since I was a little girl. I wanted nothing more than to befriend a massive 675 pound black and orange striped feline. Better yet, a white tiger, which I had no clue was actually the result of a genetic defect. I was always torn when watching The Jungle Book, never fully feeling Shere Khan was in the wrong for his conflict with Mowgli. After all, humans were and are the greatest threat to the rainforest habitat, particularly regarding deforestation in Asia, breaking up sections of rainforest for human development and progress in the form of palm oil plantations. This human desire, particularly the colonizers’ desire, to tame the wild is something that has never quite added up to me. Worse yet, humans are the ones who have posed the greatest danger of all to the rainforests in the form of anthropogenically driven climate change, with increasing temperatures increasing the incidence of forest fires and disturbing rain cycles that keep the trees healthy, all feeding into the same repeating cycle and driving further deforestation. These issues are definitely too vast for a single person to address, and knowing where to start has always been a challenge for me, but volunteering is something I am passionate about. Loading up the van to lead a group of folks in a journey to care for these cats seemed like a strong first step in my conservation mission.
Indiana seems like a strange place to house nearly 200 big cats of ten different species. Realistically, it is, especially considering that most of the rescue is dedicated to tigers who are not accustomed to frigid snowy Indiana winters. The reason this rescue is out in the middle of nowhere USA is the space. At 230 acres, which consumes more than half of Center Point, the center provides adequate roaming for the animals. Tigers in particular require large ranges in the wild to ensure they have enough space to capture sufficient prey, around 60 large kills per year. While wild tigers prefer wild pigs and deer and they will prey on the old and the sick, benefiting the health of the herds, they will opportunistically go after smaller mammals, amphibians, and, rarely, even large ungulates like elephants. The tigers at the rescue are served freshly butchered deer, chicken, or beef daily, satisfying their carnivorous diets.
On our first day we were given a tour by the owner of the rescue, Joe Taft. He isn’t a scientist or a specialist in any academic sense; Joe is a small man with a big heart. He got his first big cat as a pet and quickly found that serving as a caretaker for such a being was a full time job. When he realized how many people must get these animals as pets and change their minds when they recognize the commitment, he decided to open the EFRC.
The majority of the cats came to the center by mishaps in the exotic pet trade. Not surprising, considering there are more tigers in captivity in the United States than there are in the wild. Many of the cats were abused; some have even killed humans and were given refuge at the center because they would have otherwise been euthanized.
Joe was most infuriated by the people he called “photo-boothers.” These are the people selling the opportunity to take photos with tiger cubs and, even though it seems a bit seedy, people shell out the twenty bucks to make the kids smile. Turns out those cubs are usually milled like pure-bred puppies, inbred to the point that they have severe neurological problems, and not properly cared for, including being fed kibbles instead of the meat carnivores require. When they get too big, the tigers are confined to excruciatingly small spaces or sold to establishments typically as unequipped to care for them as the photo-boothers. Having learned about these abuses, we were motivated to work hard to help the cats we were already starting to love.
Our team of 11 worked diligently for six days, mostly mucking out boxes soaked in tiger urine. Imagine being trapped inside an enclosed litterbox used by multiple cats, that hasn’t been cleaned in months: that still doesn’t come close. The ammonia burned our eyes and we had to switch out every few minutes to breathe. The cats don’t mind it like we do. Some of them urinate in the boxes to comfort themselves, but most do it to keep warm when coping with the cold they aren’t evolutionarily wired to withstand. Some of the strongest smelling boxes were shared by multiple cats; something that would not occur in the wild, as tigers tend to be solitary creatures unless they grow up together in a confined space.
One of the worst boxes belonged to the temperamental Zenni. As we were tagging in-and-out and lifting pitch-forks full of urine-soaked straw into bins, one of the volunteers reached within three feet of the fence and pulled a piece of grass growing in Zenni’s inner enclosure. Apparently Zenni had been tending this grass for a while, protecting it, perhaps remembering something visceral to her like the green of the rainforests that she doesn’t get to roam through being born into captivity. She was furious and began attacking the fence between us, making it seem less than sufficient to contain such rage.
As Zenni lunged in full-force ferocity at the inner enclosure, rattling the thick wire and shaking our subgroup of four to the core, the harrowing recognition of the power of these animals finally registered in my enamored little brain: this being could slaughter us in seconds. I still didn’t love her any less. If anything, my desire to raise awareness for these cats rooted a bit deeper because I want to live in a world where people are not only aware of the beings that are above us on the food chain, but where we manage to co-exist with them in our communities.
Studies suggesting that early human expansion out of Africa was restricted by the presence of large predators remind me that the fear of predators is something that is etched into the most ancient traces of our DNA. This fear will be difficult to overcome. However, it is the dynamic nature of science that gives me hope.
Preservation of the tigers, particularly in their wild endemic habitats, which are increasingly fragmented by human development and climate change, will require that humans learn to accept greater presence of these animals in our spaces. Shifts towards holistic systems perspectives, which try to see the impacts on the whole instead of zooming in on the details, give me hope that human communities will begin to recognize the value of top carnivores in our ecosystems. Viewing the importance of the whole as more than a mere sum of its parts is critical to changing our conservation ethic and re-inviting top carnivores, tigers among them, into our human-dominated landscapes. I want to see the world regain the recognition and awareness that we are a part of nature and not apart from nature. Should we fail in this endeavor, top-carnivores may be on the list of casualties for the sixth extinction.
Tigers are one of the most pressing reminders that some of the most magnificent beasts we’ve known may be the dinosaurs of future generations. I’d rather let the cats roam and the dinosaurs be the creatures that fuel children’s imaginations. At least if that doesn’t happen, I’ll be able to say I spent a week of my youth serving these mythic beasts.
Morgan DePue | December 2017
Instead of holing up in my cottage and binge-watching Netflix for Spring break, I took a peer leader position and hauled a vanload of ten volunteers to the Exotic Feline Rescue Center (EFRC) in Center Point, Indiana. Frankly, that was the reason I chose to come to Appalachian State. I wanted to get close to big cats, to learn about them by working with them, because my vague and somewhat naïve goal when I decided to return to school was to save the big cats. I cannot imagine a world without tigers and they currently occupy a spot on the IUCN endangered species list.
I’ve had a love for these cats since I was a little girl. I wanted nothing more than to befriend a massive 675 pound black and orange striped feline. Better yet, a white tiger, which I had no clue was actually the result of a genetic defect. I was always torn when watching The Jungle Book, never fully feeling Shere Khan was in the wrong for his conflict with Mowgli. After all, humans were and are the greatest threat to the rainforest habitat, particularly regarding deforestation in Asia, breaking up sections of rainforest for human development and progress in the form of palm oil plantations. This human desire, particularly the colonizers’ desire, to tame the wild is something that has never quite added up to me. Worse yet, humans are the ones who have posed the greatest danger of all to the rainforests in the form of anthropogenically driven climate change, with increasing temperatures increasing the incidence of forest fires and disturbing rain cycles that keep the trees healthy, all feeding into the same repeating cycle and driving further deforestation. These issues are definitely too vast for a single person to address, and knowing where to start has always been a challenge for me, but volunteering is something I am passionate about. Loading up the van to lead a group of folks in a journey to care for these cats seemed like a strong first step in my conservation mission.
Indiana seems like a strange place to house nearly 200 big cats of ten different species. Realistically, it is, especially considering that most of the rescue is dedicated to tigers who are not accustomed to frigid snowy Indiana winters. The reason this rescue is out in the middle of nowhere USA is the space. At 230 acres, which consumes more than half of Center Point, the center provides adequate roaming for the animals. Tigers in particular require large ranges in the wild to ensure they have enough space to capture sufficient prey, around 60 large kills per year. While wild tigers prefer wild pigs and deer and they will prey on the old and the sick, benefiting the health of the herds, they will opportunistically go after smaller mammals, amphibians, and, rarely, even large ungulates like elephants. The tigers at the rescue are served freshly butchered deer, chicken, or beef daily, satisfying their carnivorous diets.
On our first day we were given a tour by the owner of the rescue, Joe Taft. He isn’t a scientist or a specialist in any academic sense; Joe is a small man with a big heart. He got his first big cat as a pet and quickly found that serving as a caretaker for such a being was a full time job. When he realized how many people must get these animals as pets and change their minds when they recognize the commitment, he decided to open the EFRC.
The majority of the cats came to the center by mishaps in the exotic pet trade. Not surprising, considering there are more tigers in captivity in the United States than there are in the wild. Many of the cats were abused; some have even killed humans and were given refuge at the center because they would have otherwise been euthanized.
Joe was most infuriated by the people he called “photo-boothers.” These are the people selling the opportunity to take photos with tiger cubs and, even though it seems a bit seedy, people shell out the twenty bucks to make the kids smile. Turns out those cubs are usually milled like pure-bred puppies, inbred to the point that they have severe neurological problems, and not properly cared for, including being fed kibbles instead of the meat carnivores require. When they get too big, the tigers are confined to excruciatingly small spaces or sold to establishments typically as unequipped to care for them as the photo-boothers. Having learned about these abuses, we were motivated to work hard to help the cats we were already starting to love.
Our team of 11 worked diligently for six days, mostly mucking out boxes soaked in tiger urine. Imagine being trapped inside an enclosed litterbox used by multiple cats, that hasn’t been cleaned in months: that still doesn’t come close. The ammonia burned our eyes and we had to switch out every few minutes to breathe. The cats don’t mind it like we do. Some of them urinate in the boxes to comfort themselves, but most do it to keep warm when coping with the cold they aren’t evolutionarily wired to withstand. Some of the strongest smelling boxes were shared by multiple cats; something that would not occur in the wild, as tigers tend to be solitary creatures unless they grow up together in a confined space.
One of the worst boxes belonged to the temperamental Zenni. As we were tagging in-and-out and lifting pitch-forks full of urine-soaked straw into bins, one of the volunteers reached within three feet of the fence and pulled a piece of grass growing in Zenni’s inner enclosure. Apparently Zenni had been tending this grass for a while, protecting it, perhaps remembering something visceral to her like the green of the rainforests that she doesn’t get to roam through being born into captivity. She was furious and began attacking the fence between us, making it seem less than sufficient to contain such rage.
As Zenni lunged in full-force ferocity at the inner enclosure, rattling the thick wire and shaking our subgroup of four to the core, the harrowing recognition of the power of these animals finally registered in my enamored little brain: this being could slaughter us in seconds. I still didn’t love her any less. If anything, my desire to raise awareness for these cats rooted a bit deeper because I want to live in a world where people are not only aware of the beings that are above us on the food chain, but where we manage to co-exist with them in our communities.
Studies suggesting that early human expansion out of Africa was restricted by the presence of large predators remind me that the fear of predators is something that is etched into the most ancient traces of our DNA. This fear will be difficult to overcome. However, it is the dynamic nature of science that gives me hope.
Preservation of the tigers, particularly in their wild endemic habitats, which are increasingly fragmented by human development and climate change, will require that humans learn to accept greater presence of these animals in our spaces. Shifts towards holistic systems perspectives, which try to see the impacts on the whole instead of zooming in on the details, give me hope that human communities will begin to recognize the value of top carnivores in our ecosystems. Viewing the importance of the whole as more than a mere sum of its parts is critical to changing our conservation ethic and re-inviting top carnivores, tigers among them, into our human-dominated landscapes. I want to see the world regain the recognition and awareness that we are a part of nature and not apart from nature. Should we fail in this endeavor, top-carnivores may be on the list of casualties for the sixth extinction.
Tigers are one of the most pressing reminders that some of the most magnificent beasts we’ve known may be the dinosaurs of future generations. I’d rather let the cats roam and the dinosaurs be the creatures that fuel children’s imaginations. At least if that doesn’t happen, I’ll be able to say I spent a week of my youth serving these mythic beasts.