Usually, a phone call comes first: A baby squirrel just fell out of our tree! Or, There’s a baby deer with a broken leg in our backyard! And sometimes, There’s a bear cub wandering around looking lost!
But other times, there is no warning. Other times, they simply arrive.
Stella appeared unexpectedly several weeks ago. After traveling down our long driveway, a woman began a lengthy explanation into the call box about a baby raccoon she’d rescued from the highway, only to be cut off when the recorder timed out. Associate Director Heather Holcomb, who was hurriedly cleaning wolf enclosures before an urgent meeting, merely opened the gate and let the woman in.
Ten minutes later, Earthfire had a new rehabilitation addition: a rescued baby raccoon the woman had named Stella.
Stella’s arrival immediately reshuffled priorities. Instead of attending her urgent meeting, Heather cleaned a quarantine kennel while Tayler, Earthfire’s animal care manager, sat with Stella and carefully assessed her health and behavior. Heather then found the kennel a home away from Earthfire’s year-round sanctuary residents.
Lethargic and severely dehydrated, Stella also appeared ataxic, a lack of coordination that can be caused by any number of neurological issues. She was immediately given Pedialyte, and just as Heather was getting her settled in, Susan radioed with news of another call: a squirrel with a broken leg needed help.
This is not unusual. As one of the few local organizations with a rehabilitation license, Earthfire is often the first call when people discover injured wildlife. But simply having a license isn’t enough to successfully—and continually—rehabilitate wild animals. Rehabilitation requires staff, facilities, and funding—resources Earthfire does not always have on hand.
But Stella the raccoon got lucky.
Photos by Tayler Hutchison
Once she was snug in her kennel, belly full, Tayler drew up a care plan for Stella, including rehydration and two-hour check-ins. Staff would also have to return after hours for feedings and to make certain she was doing okay. The little raccoon would remain in quarantine for fourteen days to ensure she carried no transmittable diseases.
By day two, Stella was happily gorging on puppy formula and Pedialyte. Her energy levels rose and she perked up, but the ataxia remained. Weaning foods were added to her kennel—wet cat food, apple slices, grapes, and plums—but by Monday, Stella was no longer eating, so Heather made an appointment with one of the local vets, and Tayler took her in.
The vet, Maura, ordered several tests and examined Stella thoroughly; Maura believed the ataxic symptoms were likely due to dehydration and would hopefully pass. Several medications were prescribed, and Stella was sent on her way.
Within a few days—courtesy of the meds—Stella was on the mend. Tayler added sticks to her enclosure, providing enrichment and play, and Stella began to thrive. So much so that yesterday, she was relocated to a larger enclosure, where she is clambering around in delight, and we are growing more confident she will outgrow the ataxia, enabling us to release her in spring.
Such is the way of rehabilitation. Unpredictable, sometimes difficult, and not for the faint of heart. Tasked with an injured animal’s survival while not being able to name them or hold them, relegated to loving them only from afar, we must dedicate ourselves 24/7 to the animal’s growth and re-wilding—but must not become attached, an exquisitely painful catch-22 that is the bane of every rehabilitator’s existence.
As wildlife displacement and human encroachment grow, the number of wild animals in need grows, too. Because Earthfire exists primarily on donations, we can meet only a tiny portion of that need. Our goal is to build a rehabilitation facility that can handle more animals so we can better accommodate the needs of our expanding valley and its vulnerable wildlife population.
But for now, we will help those we can. And we will enjoy plump, fuzzy, and lively little Stella for as long as we are able.
