I was invited to do a question-and-answer session with the Compassion Consortium’s Animal Chaplaincy students on wildlife rehabilitation from a spiritual perspective. I shared that, honestly, I don’t know any wildlife rehabilitators, or at least any who stick with it, who aren’t spiritual about it in some way. There are some who start for their own egos, but they tend to burn out or get disillusioned quickly. This is work that must come from the heart.
I was called to the work of wildlife rehabilitation by a deep longing for connection that I can’t really explain. I know that I was led by Spirit. There are things I love about rehabbing, including having the ability to help the wild ones when they need it. It’s like being an EMT for wildlife. I find joy in release days, when patients return home. And I get to be part of a community of other humans who care about wild beings.
Even after turtles are cleaned up, it’s obvious they are badly injured.
There are challenges to this work, though. Wildlife rehab can be physically and emotionally exhausting. Although we’re working with wildlife, it’s very people-y work, because there is always another human involved in getting an animal into care, and they are probably upset by the situation. As an introvert, that wears my energetic batteries down. I often must use my ministerial skills while I listen as they retell the story of finding this injured animal or tiny baby a few times, remembering they are processing their own trauma around it. I’m used to it, but it may be the first time they have another’s life in their hands.
I wish I could save every being that comes to me, but death is a too-frequent outcome. I was asked how I manage my emotions around death and I had to admit that, especially after last season’s emotional breakdown, I often manage it poorly. There didn’t seem to be time last year for my ritual of speaking to the Earth while burying those who had passed, asking for forgiveness on behalf of humans, and asking her to receive them back. There is a lot of reciprocity practice in this work.
The question helped me realize I had been neglecting my self-care practices because I felt I didn’t have enough time or energy for them. It is important that I get out in nature, to immerse myself in life at its most vital. I appreciate my friend who got up before sunrise with me so I could start the days on my paddleboard with the loons. They helped me more than they will ever know.
There are some things I wish people knew about wildlife rehabilitation. For one thing, it’s expensive and unpaid. Most of us must put energy into fundraising to be able to afford to feed and house those in our care. There are almost no grants for this work.
It’s definitely not glamorous work. Poop and blood are gross. There is also an insane amount of paperwork every year to do this legally. And most wildlife rehabilitators suffer from compassion fatigue at one time or another.
This is the result of one day’s washing up.
We are expected to educate, formally like the programs I offer or informally whenever we interact with the public. This is mandated by our licenses in many states. I believe the state agencies were hoping we would reinforce the “leave nature alone” human domination/separation thing, but we are seeing huge shifts in the public’s desire for more and safer contact and ways to coexist with wildlife. From what I’ve seen, agencies that had been focused on hunting are facing changing public perception and most struggle to pivot fast enough.
One last thing about wildlife rehabilitation – as a result of this work, I’m seeing an emerging nature spirituality different from anything before. Animal chaplains, ecospiritual ministers, and wildlife advocates all get to shape it. We are the hope for planetary transformation.
You may be wondering how you can help. I know not everyone can be a wildlife rehabilitator, but you can support one. But you must be willing to get your hands dirty. We need you most when we are busiest. Volunteer. Support us in our grief by listening while you’re helping scrub cages, prepping food, or folding the endless laundry pile. It’s hard to describe the experience of wildlife rehabilitation to someone on the outside, so get in it with us in whatever way you can. You get to do some reciprocity at the same time.