Considering the wisdom of wild animal parks

My phone vibrated long after my midnight chime notified me silent mode was active. The rumble of the phone against my wooden nightstand should have startled me. In my battle with the insomnia monster, the vibration was a relief and my reason to retreat from tossing around the hot sheets to find a cool place.

I noted the caller I.D. and swiped the screen to answer. “I’m sleeping.”

“No, you’re not,” he said. He knew sleep declared war each night, and that I was a perpetual prisoner to be tortured until the sun cracked the horizon. He said, “I need you.”

“You need to take your meds,” I said with far too much kindness. This was his eighth call that night and there was nothing I could do from two-thousand miles away.

His war was with his own mind and any stressful situation resulted in demons and sounds disturbing his chemically unstable brain. Earlier that afternoon, the tornado sirens cracked his security, and he had reached out for comfort. The tornado watch had turned to a warning: Tornados were touching down in his neighborhood.

“You just need to chill. Take a warm bath. Have some tea,” I said with as much kindness as I could muster after my three-hour battle with The Sandman.

“I’m having issues. I’m in my truck,” he said.

“You’re in your truck?”

“Yeah. The electricity is still out. And I had to charge my phone,” he admitted.

I sighed, frustrated he was not using the generator. “Okay, and I can help with that how?”

“Because there’s a tiger on my truck.”

He said this without the required irony. I gathered my kindness. “You need rest. You’ve had a rough day. Did you take your medication?”

“Yeah. I did. I thought I might be having an episode, but Kaiser sees it, too.” He put the phone on speaker and I could hear Kaiser growling.

“Kaiser is growling at what? A tiger?” I sat up. I touched my leg. Was I asleep?

“Yes. It’s on the hood of my truck. Staring at us.”

“The tiger?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking it was a feral cat or something less threatening and more realistic. But Kaiser was losing his Doberman head. It was something. A something I could do little about ten states away. “Call the police.”

A long pause. Growling and barking. He huffed. “Yeah, I’ll do that and call you back.”

Does he have some issues? Sure does. But not that night.

The incident, later named Tigernado, was no delusion. A tornado had ripped through the electrified fences at the Tuttle Tiger Preserve and a tiger was, in fact, resting on my ex’s truck. We laugh about it now, but being trapped in the cab of your truck while the Earth’s biggest wild cat licks his paws makes for an interesting evening. Eventually, the beast wandered off the truck, dumped several garbage cans scavenging for discarded sandwiches, and disappeared down the dirt road.

What frustrates me is that the preserve later insisted no animals escaped the preserve. And that PR reminds me of one of my first legal matters as a law clerk. In 2003, I was a clerk to the presiding judge of the New Jersey Tiger Lady case. The matter began in 1999, when reports of a tiger roaming the Jackson Township streets flooded police phone lines. After a full lock-down, search, and suspicion the roaming cat had escaped from the nearby Six Flags Great Adventure Safari, the 450 pound Bengal tiger was tranquilized and then shot. The police, always skilled in New Jersey, were concerned the agitated animal was dangerous, even in its tranquilized state.

Let’s ignore the danger for a moment and focus on the abuse an animal the belongs in the wild suffers when roaming suburban neighborhoods. Did this beautiful creature deserve that horrible death?

Back to our tale. When Six Flags could account for all its tigers, suspicion landed on the Tigers Only Preservation Society, operated by The Tiger Lady, Joan Byron-Marasek. Once a handler for Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus, Byron-Marasek relocated to Jackson in 1976 when the town had no wild animal restrictions. The town, still sparsely populated and boasting several horse ranches, was ideal to move her tiger collection. Although her permit and non-profit status required her to offer educational programs, they proffered no evidence of her ever having offered a thing to the public. She just had pet tigers. Twenty-three of them.

On a side note: the police never proved the tiger had come from The Tiger Lady’s property. She consistently asserted that the roaming tiger was not from her preserve. However, her preserve was in gross disrepair with broken fences and pens. So, we are left to wonder.

After five years of the state pursuing her to close her facility and for damages for violating her permit (which only permitted eighteen tigers), for creating a nuisance, for endangering others, for breeding tigers, for relocation costs (the animals were moved to other sanctuaries). The state, while I watched, won the case and their $300,000. I watched her cry through the entire proceeding.

Many people, including this author, love animals. I would love to have a tiger as a pet. But this is not The Jungle Book, and I’m not Mowgli. This is real life. I resist the idea to house a wild animal after my dear friend, Brent, a license falconer, disabused me of wanting ravens and owls.

“You know, they will destroy your house. And never be tame,” he warned.

“But I want one. Or two. They’re so cute,” I insisted.

Then he sent me information on both species. Not only will birds of prey destroy one’s furniture and walls, not only will a bird of prey vomit its food and bite when provoked, but also is it difficult to provide an adequate lifestyle to such a magnificent creature in a duplex in the suburbs. And, admittedly, I do not have the experience or education to care for these creatures. They deserve better.

Other animal lovers and zoologists offer sanctuary to wild animals through glorified zoos. Most tiger reserves are in India. An internet search for tiger sanctuaries in the United States reveals six: PAWS in California, The Wild Animal Sanctuary in Colorado, In-Sync Exotics in Texas, Black Pine in Indiana, Carolina Tiger Rescue in North Carolina, and Big Cat Rescue in Florida. But preserves like The Tiger Lady’s or the one in Tuttle are not easily identified or located.

Which leads one to wonder. The issue is two-pronged: First, wild animals are dangerous even when an experienced zoologist or animal trainer is present. The animals are dangerous to have in a residential location. Period. Second, we should leave wild animals in the wild. The only exception is for study or preservation if endangered.

My conclusion is to offer several suggestions:

1. Wild animal preserves, even if well-intentioned, must be far enough from residential areas to provide a capture buffer. This allows trained animal handlers to reclaim an escaped animal without harm to humans or the roaming creature.
2. Wild animal preserves should be limited to highly skilled and trained experts. Joe Billy Bob who likes lions and bears, should not be able to get a permit and move that menagerie onto Main Street. I have a hard time allowing just anyone to own a house cat or a dog or bird. An educational certification should be a requirement.
3. While I recognize the first two of my suggestions are well-intentioned and logical, I am a freedom-loving person. I saw The Tiger Lady cry. I say, let anyone keep any animal they want. But don’t expect an insurance company to pay when the animal eats you and your kids. And don’t expect the taxpayers to pay when the animal eats someone else’s kid. Personal responsibility is the rule.

If you are pro-preserves and reserves, you must patronize these places so they can afford to maintain and repair fencing. We are all responsible for the lives on this planet. Even if it roars and tries to eat friends.