Shelter From the Storm in Belize

Posted on August 2, 2016 by Kama

Here I am on Jungle Planet to experience the rescue, rehabilitation, and release of anteaters (known as tamanduas in these parts)! The drama of a long delay in Miami was heightened by the news that Tropical Storm Earl is heading straight for Belize. Time will tell—it’s pouring at the moment. So far, Belize feels part Caribbean and part Central American.

The lovely tamandua rescuer and rehabilitator Ella Baron picked me up in her truck at the small airport in Belize City. Turns out I got luckier than I’d felt in Miami and mine was the last flight in. Ella drove us the 1.5 hours (we gabbed gabbed gabbed the whole way) to Caves Branch Jungle Lodge, my home for the next week, and the site of Tamandua Refuge, Ella’s rescue endeavor. My cabin is “rainforest glamping” style and I woke up to this trippy green panorama:

The next morning began with an amazing breakfast, which included two new tastes: breadfruit and mammy fruit. Breadfruit tastes a little like yucca or cassava:

The first order of wildlife-rescue business was a short drive to hunt and gather termite nests for the tamandua’s meals. More on that later—that adventure truly deserves its own post. A teaser: it involved machetes!

After lunch, as the resident tamandua snoozed, Ella gave me a detailed stage-by-stage tour of the seven enclosures in which they stay during their rehabilitation process. Each is designed to meet their individual needs—their size, whether or not they are injured, if they can climb (and if so, how high), and so on. Here are just a few of them. They are each custom-made or adjusted for each animal, which requires Ella’s and her staff’s constant ingenuity and improvisation.

A large dog carrier with a safe climbing area. That figure on the left side of the top shelf is a stuffed tamandua, obvs. The babies actually like to cling to these stuffed animals and squeeze them repeatedly with their paws/claws, sometimes two at a time. Sort of like a cat “kneading.” They also do this to Ella’s hands!

This plexiglass area is for when the tamandua is ready for a little more movement and climbing.

This plexiglass area is for when the tamandua is ready for a little more movement and open space. The logs and branches are kept low for the safest climbing opportunities.

This "jungle gym" is for when the tamandua is nearly ready for the final outdoor enclosure. Safe climbing opportunities abound.

This “jungle gym” is for when the tamandua are nearly ready for the final outdoor enclosure. Safe climbing opportunities abound. Abe (pronounced “Abby”), the female tamandua that is now sleeping in here, will hopefully be released several hours away in the next few weeks, most likely by the usual team: Ella, Don Luis, and Junior.

This is as close to the actual jungle as it gets for about-to-be-wild tamandua. The darkness simulates the rainforest canopy and the trees and plants are all the same as their release sites. It’s more fabulous than this photo shows.

Pinky Protection

Posted on June 27, 2016 by Kama

[Photo credit: Wildlife Victoria]

Wombat joeys are called pinkies, for obvious reasons. Recently, this little guy was found in his mum’s pouch after a road accident. Soon after, the good people of Wildlife Victoria stepped in to do right by him. He’ll be bottle-fed hourly, massaged with mineral oil, and kept in a warm cloth pouch. My fantasy: this photo is a book cover and I am the editor of the book. I get to choose the title and subtitle:

Wombat Dreams: Australian Habitat Conservation and Wildlife Protection
In Our Hands: Holding the Promise of a Better World for Wildlife
The Story’s Not Written Yet: Life, Love, and Loss in Wildlife Rehabilitation
Life Finds a Way: The Fierce Hope of Wildlife Carers

Who Tells Your Story?

Posted on June 10, 2016 by Kama

Why I Write Nonfiction About Animals

I just saw Hamilton (and it really is all that)! One of its themes is “who tells the story”—who gets to write history and determine others’ legacies. At the end, long after Hamilton has died, the cast sings a song about this, leaving the audience kind of undone, unable to get up and leave the theater.

In case you don’t listen to it (but you should!), George Washington opens with:

Let me tell you what I wish I’d known/
when I was young and dreamed of glory/
you have no control/
who lives, who dies, who tells your story.

I’m painfully aware of the “no control who lives, who dies” part, but the song helped me name the fire in my belly. It’s the need to tell the stories of vulnerable and threatened animals, the creatures without voices. (“Will they tell your story?” Eliza sings to Alexander after he’s gone.)

In college, I wanted to be a journalist, but soon learned I wasn’t exactly a crackerjack investigative reporter. I never could have imagined that, decades later, my favorite project would involve listening to those who don’t actually use human language.

I’ve learned the stories of so many cats, dogs, wombats, koalas, kangaroos, bats, wallabies, and wallaroos. If I have my way this year, I’ll take in more stories from seals, sea lions, anteaters, and kinkajous. These stories are all nonfiction, but may have elements of comedies, melodramas, farces, parables, mysteries, or tearjerkers. Like all good stories, they have characters you invest in, strong narrative arcs, unique voices, and intriguing settings and details. And, sometimes, on a good day…a happy ending.

Saying Yes

Posted on March 18, 2015 by Kama

Waking up in Wellington, New Zealand this morning, I am still humbled by the kindness of strangers. A handful of them made my stay in Australia magical (and of course are no longer strangers). These humane humans also devote their lives to rescuing, rehabilitating and releasing wild animals.

They’re people who “just say yes”: Yes, I’ll give my spare bedroom to a wombat-obsessed American for a week. Sure, I’ll bottle-feed an injured possum with a thumb-sized bottle every two hours for a month. Right then, I’ll drive you around Canberra for a day of sightseeing. Yeah, I’ll pull over on the highway right now and check this dead kangaroo’s pouch, using a flimsy plastic grocery bag as a glove. Yup, let’s drive two hours each way to pick up a scabby wallaby from another wildlife carer who doesn’t have space for her. Absolutely, this blind elderly wombat can live with my family and I for the rest of his natural life. Yes. Yes.

You know how when you’re traveling in a foreign country everything is a thing? The littlest tasks like filling your car with gas, making a phone call, frying an egg. It’s like you’re a little again and the grown-up locals have to show you how to do the most basic things. But my hosts never made me feel dumb, just laughed with me when I laughed at myself. Then they would usually make everything okay by putting an animal in my lap.

I was in Australia for two weeks and only spent one night in a hotel. I am the luckiest. Here are some of my main kind strangers (now friends). I’m sure the animals are grateful for them, too.