Masked but not Anonymous

https://youtu.be/CdPxpCjnVDo

Dear Friends and Supporters;

I hope that in this time of Sheltering in Place in order to slow the spread of the novel coronavirus that is wreaking havoc around the world, that each of you is safe and healthy. I know that none of us are untouched by the global pandemic, and I also know that many of us will be touched very hard.

Nothing like this has happened in anyone’s memory. Certainly we’ve lived through epidemics, bad flu seasons, and worse – the US government’s response to the AIDS crisis in the 80s and early 90s was horrible for those impacted, who lost lives, lovers, friends and family – but none of those crises is preparation for a life in lockdown while we hush, hoping the monster passes our door.

Our world is upended. We hope that most of us staying home will restore normalcy and minimize our losses sooner than later, but the fact is that we are sailing uncharted seas.

Uncharted waters are fun for explorers, and we all love voyages of discovery, but in keeping our wildlife hospital afloat and on course, we need to be able to navigate. Navigation without charts is unnerving to say the least. How will this pandemic impact our work? Will the resources we need to meet our mission be available? Will the community still support care for injured and orphaned wild neighbors in the midst of a human-centered crisis? How will we provide care for our patients in these uncharted waters?

Humboldt Wildlife Care Center staff, and skeleton crew takes a socially distant break. left to right, Lucinda Adamson, assistant rehabilitation manager; Brooke Brown, rehabilitation tech; and Desiree Vang, rehabilitation tech.
Monte Merrick (me) Humboldt Wildlife Care Center director.

Needless to say, these questions, which we don’t have answers for, cause us some anxiety. Of course a lot of what happens next is up to us. Our commitment to providing our wild neighbors with quality care is not even slightly reduced by the COVID 19 pandemic.

Our commitment to providing quality care is the most mission-critical piece of the puzzle, no doubt. But we cannot meet our mission without the people who keep our doors open with their support. Right now, donations have fallen so far that it makes us wonder if the pandemic is going to swallow us whole.

We are entering the busiest season of our year – wild baby season. Just today, Saturday, April 4, we performed the first of many house calls to come, identifying a Raccoon mother’s den under a bathtub. Now we’ll be able to help the homeowner humanely convince the new mother to take her babies elsewhere.

An orphaned raccoon about to receive milk replacer.

By the time the season has ended, based on previous years (possibly not that helpful of a reference) we will have helped homeowners protect their property and hundreds of raccoon, skunk, swallow, and sparrow families stay together, – learning, growing and becoming part of our natural community.

Spring and Mother Earth’s northern renewal are here – they won’t stop for our crisis, and human society, even as most of us are staying home, will continue to injure wild animals, through passive, chronic problems like pollution, habitat loss and general environmental degradation as well as acute and aggressive agents, such as cars, abuse, and other violent conflicts from which no wild animal is safe.

Our work is never going to be unnecessary, at least not in our lifetimes. And it will always fall to those who care the most to make the deepest sacrifices, to do the work if able, and otherwise to provide moral and financial support. We’ve gained a lot of ground in the last nine years at Humboldt Wildlife Care Center. We’ve built not one but several excellent crews, with many individuals dispersed throughout the world of wildlife care, doing good work. I sincerely hope that we can count on you to keep us going – keep our doors open, our electricity on, the phone functional and our staff stable.

Right now, our fundraiser to pay for necessary repairs to our facility is languishing, as are our general resources. We operate on a shoestring budget without a cushion for lean times. We just tighten our belts and do what we can. Without your support, our belts will have never been so tight. Please help us get through this uncertain time. Our wild neighbors depend on you. Thank you for your love of the wild.

With warmth, gratitude and a profound wish for all of us to emerge from this pandemic with health and happiness,

Monte

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