Exotic Animals Biography
Source Link Goggle.com.pkExotic Animal Petting Zoo is an experimental/progressive rock/mathcore band from Crown Point, Indiana that was formed in 2004 by brothers Brandon Carr and Stephen Carr. Their initial sound combines the likes of The Dillinger Escape Plan, The Smashing Pumpkins, Deftones, and Sigur
They recorded a 5-song EP of different musical styles while in search of a bass player able to play them all. Scott Certa was recruited for bassist in ‘05 and played local shows around the region. It wasn’t until the spring of 06’ when the band recorded their first 4-song EP which got them opening up for national acts such as Kaddisfly (Sub City Records), As Blood Runs Black (Mediaskare Records) and Brazil (Immortal Records). With the growing number of online music communites, Exotic Animal Petting Zoo were quickly turning heads all over the country, eventually capturing the attention of Mediaskare Records, which later signed them to their label.
Exotic Animal Petting Zoo recorded their first full-length debut record I Have Made My Bed In Darkness released in August 2008 and has gained huge attention immediately creating a universal sound appealing to most everyone, but still in genres including mathcore/ambient/progressive rock because of their technical riffs, downtempo songs and time signature changes. In October 2008 the band was invited by Fear Before The March Of Flames to do a fall tour entitled Dudestorm Part Deux also featuring I Am The Ocean and Dameira. Steve Radakovich joined the band as their new guitarist on this tour giving the band a new and inventive element to their sound. After Exotic Animal Petting Zoo and Loom toured in October 2009, things quickly started to fall apart. EAPZ returned home with no money or a place to live only to head back out on the road on a DIY run of dates to try to make a profit. This allowed EAPZ to rent a practice space, which they also lived in, and begin to refocus on the band. The band then heads out on another tour and is forced to bang on their instrument cases on the street to make gas money and ultimately part ways with their
Exotic Animal Petting Zoo then returns to playing as a three-piece and still find more problems. Low on cash (and morale), the band is on the verge of breaking up until they get a random call from an interested musician and add guitarist Jeff Zampillo to their ranks. The band quickly connects with Jeff and their writing reaches new peaks. The band is finally ready to return to the studio and begin work on their next record, but total their car (full of equipment) during a treacherous drive through a snowstorm between their homes in Indiana and the studio in Portland
The band manages to escape the accident unscathed and finally make it to Portland; commencing work on what would become ‘Tree of Tongues’. What you hear is channeled aggression and a band that reaches new heights on this truly epic album. It is a story of survival and, for Exotic Animal Petting Zoo, a form of catharsis. Their second album Tree of Tongues was originally set to be released April 24, 2012 but was pushed back to May 8th, then to June 19th, and finally to July 17th when it was finally released.At least not to Leslie-Ann Rush, a horse trainer who lives on a seven-acre farm outside Orlando, Florida, a place where the wind makes a rustling sound when it whips through the palms. Rush, 57, who has a kind face and hair the color of corn, breeds and trains gypsy horses she houses in a barn behind her small petting zoo, a wire enclosure where three male kangaroos, four lemurs, a muntjac deer (originally from Asia), a potbellied pig, a raccoon-like kinkajou called Kiwi, and a dog named Dozer all live—the lemurs leaping freely, the kangaroos sleeping on their sides, the petite pig rooting in the ground, the Asian deer balancing
Rush weaves in and around her exotic pets with ease and cheerfulness and Cheerios, doling them out to the lemurs. They thrust their humanlike hands into the open boxes and draw out fistfuls of O’s, which they eat almost politely, one by one, dining daintily while the drool gathers in the corners of their mouths.Rush has a ring-tailed lemur, Liam; two ruffed lemurs, Lolli and Poppi; and a common brown lemur named Charlie. While many lemurs are threatened, the ruffed lemurs are considered critically endangered in the wild. Rush believes that by caring for these captive-bred creatures she is doing her part to help keep lemurs alive on Earth, and she cares for her animals with a profound commitment that consumes her days and even her nights. As darkness falls, she moves from the small enclosure into her home and takes her favorite lemur with her; he shares her bed, coiled up on a pillow by her head.Despite occasional reports of wild kangaroos attacking humans in Australia, Rush’s pets display not a hint of aggression. This may have something to do with the fact that kangaroos are naturally somnolent during daytime hours, and it may also have something to do with the fact that Rush’s kangaroos are no longer truly wild: They were bred in captivity; two of them have been neutered; they are used to human contact. Rush raised each kangaroo in diapers, bottle-fed it, and, touching the sleek suede fur continually, accustomed each
The $35 that Rush charges to visit what she calls her Exotic Animal Experience helps defray the costs involved in keeping her pets. Some exotic-animal owners spend thousands a year on fresh meat, for carnivores that dine daily on raw steak, for primates—omnivores with complex dietary needs—for snakes, which eat rat after rat after rat. In Rush’s case her kangaroos consume huge quantities of grain, while the lemurs eat mounds of fruits and vegetables.
Rush herself lives a lean life, much of her own money poured into feeding her herd. And then there’s her time. She puts abundant hours into caring for her exotics. “They’re 24/7,” she says, and then goes on to add, “but they’re my family. They need me. I can’t explain to you what that feels like. I wake up every morning and come out here, and all my animals come rushing up to
“My family,” she repeats, and a shadow sweeps across her face. “All my life,” she says, “people
Privately owning exotic animals is currently permitted in a handful of states with essentially no restrictions: You must have a license to own a dog, but you are free to purchase a lion or baboon and keep it as a pet. Even in the states where exotic-pet ownership is banned, “people break the law,” says Adam Roberts of Born Free USA, who keeps a running database of deaths and injuries attributed to exotic-pet ownership: In Texas a four-year-old mauled by a mountain lion his aunt kept as a pet, in Connecticut a 55-year-old woman’s face permanently disfigured by her friend’s lifelong pet chimpanzee, in Ohio an 80-year-old man attacked by a 200-pound kangaroo, in Nebraska a 34-year-old man strangled to death by his pet snake. And that list does not capture the number of people who become sick from coming into contact with zoonotic diseases.
The term exotic pet has no firm definition; it can refer to any wildlife kept in human households—or simply to a pet that’s more unusual than the standard dog or cat. Lack of oversight and regulation makes it difficult to pin down just how many exotics are out there. “The short answer is, too many,” says Patty Finch of the Global Federation of Animal Sanctuaries. It’s estimated that the number of captive tigers alone is at least 5,000—most kept not by accredited zoos but by private owners. And while many owners tend to their exotic pets with great care and at no small expense, some keep their pets in cramped cages and poor conditions.
Commercially importing endangered species into the United States has been restricted since the early 1970s. Many of the large exotic animals that end up in backyard menageries—lions and tigers, monkeys and bears—are bred in captivity. Today on the Internet you can find zebras and camels and cougars and capuchins for sale, their adorable faces staring out from your screen; the monkeys with their intelligent eyes; the big cats with their tawny coats. And though such animals are no longer completely wild, neither are they domesticated—they exist in a netherworld that
From his experience in providing sanctuary for exotic animals in need of new homes, often desperately, Roberts says that exotic-pet owners tend to fall into multiple overlapping categories. Some people treat their animals, especially primates, as surrogate children, dressing them up in baby clothes, diapering them, and training them to use the toilet. Some own exotics as symbols of status and power, the exotic animal the next step up from a Doberman or pitbull. There are impulse buyers who simply could not resist purchasing a cute baby exotic. Still others are collectors, like Brandon Terry, who lives in Wake County, North Carolina, in a one-bedroom apartment with 15 snakes, three of them venomous. And then there are wild animal lovers who may start out as volunteers at awildlife sanctuary and end up adopting a rescued animal in need of
Denise Flores of Ohio explains how she acquired her first tiger. “I went to a wild animal park one day, and someone put a baby tiger in my lap. My heart melted; it just melted. I was hooked,” says Flores, who ended up caring for eight rescued big cats, including two white tigers so beautiful they
Some people seek wild animals as pets as a way to reconnect with the natural world. They believe their exotics set them apart, the relationship made all the more intense by the unintended social isolation that is often the result of having an unpredictable beast as a companion. “Yes, of course my exotics make me feel unique,” Rush says. Though anyone can own a cat or dog, exotic-pet owners take pleasure in possessing an animal that has, for hundreds of thousands of years, refused the saddle of domestication: They take the uncivilized into society and in doing so assert
“I wanted something different, something unusual,” says Michelle Berk, formerly of Palisades, Florida, who bought her kinkajou, Winnie, on craigslist. “She was there for me to make my own. We didn’t get a dog because there’s nothing cool or outstanding about owning a dog. A kinkajou—now that seems untouchable. And who doesn’t want the untouchable? They say don’t touch it, so
Tim Harrison understands the allure of owning exotic pets. Thirty-two years ago he worked as a public safety officer in the city of Oakwood, Ohio, and kept a menagerie in his house. He had snakes wrapped around lamp poles. He had rhesus monkeys leaping from counter to couch. He had lions sunning themselves on his gravel driveway. He had capuchins and bears and wolves,
After a hard day of chasing criminals or a boring day of ticketing cars, Harrison would change out of his uniform and drive home to his animals. He always went to the wolves first. His body aching, his mind numbed, he’d let the canines come to him, weaving around his legs. He’d drop down on his knees and then lie flat on his back, the wolves clambering over him. “I would just lie there and let them lick me,” Harrison says, “and it was one of the best feelings in the world.”
Now the animals are gone. Harrison will never again own anything wild or exotic. He believes ownership of all potentially dangerous exotic animals should be banned and is working to make that happen. He underwent a profound transformation, his entire outlook shattered and put back
What happened is this: After decades of being an exotic-pet owner, Harrison went to Africa. He drove over the open plains and grasslands, and he can remember, all these years later, the giraffes’ long lope, the lions’ hypnotic canter, the elephants sucking water up their trunks and spraying themselves so their hides glistened. Harrison gazed upon these wild animals, and he says it was as if his eyes had been blistered shut and were suddenly opened as he witnessed these mammals moving in such profound harmony with their environment that you could hear it: a rhythm, a pulse, a roar. This, Harrison suddenly realized, was how wild animals are supposed to live. They are not supposed to live in Dayton or any other suburb or city; they are creatures in and of the land, and to give them anything less suddenly seemed wrong.
Harrison says he understood then that he didn’t really own wild animals. What he had back in Dayton was a mixed-up menagerie of inbreeding and crossbreeding that resulted in animals that had almost nothing to do with the creatures before him now. He felt that he’d been no better than a warden and that he needed to change his ways. When he returned to Ohio, one by one he gave up his beloved wolves and primates and cats and handed them over to sanctuaries where they’d at least have safety and space. It hurt him to do this. He knew his wolves so well he could howl a
Today Harrison is retired from the police force. He puts as many hours as he can into Outreach for Animals, an organization he helped found to rescue exotic pets and place them in one of the sanctuaries he trusts. Many of the so-called wildlife sanctuaries in this country are actually using their animals to make a profit, commercially breeding them or allowing public contact. The few that operate solely for the benefit of the animals are already overloaded, says Vernon Weir of the American Sanctuary Association, an accrediting organization. “I have trouble finding space for wolf-dog mixes, potbellied pigs, some species of monkeys—many retired from use in research—and all the big cats and bears,” Weir says. “A good sanctuary will take in only what they can
Harrison’s agency fields hundreds of calls a month from law enforcement officials dealing with an escaped animal or owners overwhelmed by the cost and responsibility of an animal’s care. He has been on more than a hundred big cat rescues in the past year and over his lifetime has rescued close to a thousand exotic felines. He was there when a man in Pike County, Ohio, named Terry Brumfield finally agreed to give up his beloved but ill-kept lions. He is currently working with a man who owns a bear that bit off his finger. The owner can’t yet bring himself to let the bear go.
“I meet people where they’re at,” says Harrison. “If an owner isn’t ready to give their exotic up, I help them care for the animal in the best way possible. I help them build a better enclosure or get the best kind of feed. I don’t judge. My hope is that, with the right kind of support, the person will eventually see that owning this animal is a dangerous drain and will voluntarily choose to give it
Harrison feels empathy for wild animal owners, whose affection he so well understands. He loved his animals. He believed, as most owners do, that his animals loved him. He believed that having a thriving menagerie made him special. “But I was deluded,” he says. “I used to believe there was no animal I could not tame, no animal I was unable to train, and that any animal living under my roof was receiving the best of care.” The delusion, rooted in a deep desire to commune with wild animals, has lingered long after the beasts were gone. Every time he participates in a rescue he has to stop himself from taking the animal home. “I try to keep my contact with the animals I rescue to a minimum,” Harrison explains, “because my addiction can come back at a moment’s ”
Because kangaroos are active typically at dawn and dusk, the animals look lazy in the daylight, dun-colored beasts lying on their sides in cylinders of sun, their thick tails trailing in the dry dirt. But come evening they hop up on their hind legs and press their faces against the large glass window, looking in on Rush in her home: Let me come in, they seem to say. Rush does not let them in, although she did when they were babies. “I have all of these amazing animals of different species, from different continents, and the thing is, they play together,” she says, and she sweeps her hand through the air, gesturing to her multicolored menagerie sunning, sleeping, snacking. She has filmed and posted videos of them playing on YouTube, the lemurs leaping over the kangaroos, which hop and twirl and chase the primates around the yard.
Exotic Animal Petting Zoo is an experimental/progressive rock/mathcore band from Crown Point, Indiana that was formed in 2004 by brothers Brandon Carr and Stephen Carr. Their initial sound combines the likes of The Dillinger Escape Plan, The Smashing Pumpkins, Deftones, and Sigur
They recorded a 5-song EP of different musical styles while in search of a bass player able to play them all. Scott Certa was recruited for bassist in ‘05 and played local shows around the region. It wasn’t until the spring of 06’ when the band recorded their first 4-song EP which got them opening up for national acts such as Kaddisfly (Sub City Records), As Blood Runs Black (Mediaskare Records) and Brazil (Immortal Records). With the growing number of online music communites, Exotic Animal Petting Zoo were quickly turning heads all over the country, eventually capturing the attention of Mediaskare Records, which later signed them to their label.
Exotic Animal Petting Zoo recorded their first full-length debut record I Have Made My Bed In Darkness released in August 2008 and has gained huge attention immediately creating a universal sound appealing to most everyone, but still in genres including mathcore/ambient/progressive rock because of their technical riffs, downtempo songs and time signature changes. In October 2008 the band was invited by Fear Before The March Of Flames to do a fall tour entitled Dudestorm Part Deux also featuring I Am The Ocean and Dameira. Steve Radakovich joined the band as their new guitarist on this tour giving the band a new and inventive element to their sound. After Exotic Animal Petting Zoo and Loom toured in October 2009, things quickly started to fall apart. EAPZ returned home with no money or a place to live only to head back out on the road on a DIY run of dates to try to make a profit. This allowed EAPZ to rent a practice space, which they also lived in, and begin to refocus on the band. The band then heads out on another tour and is forced to bang on their instrument cases on the street to make gas money and ultimately part ways with their
Exotic Animal Petting Zoo then returns to playing as a three-piece and still find more problems. Low on cash (and morale), the band is on the verge of breaking up until they get a random call from an interested musician and add guitarist Jeff Zampillo to their ranks. The band quickly connects with Jeff and their writing reaches new peaks. The band is finally ready to return to the studio and begin work on their next record, but total their car (full of equipment) during a treacherous drive through a snowstorm between their homes in Indiana and the studio in Portland
The band manages to escape the accident unscathed and finally make it to Portland; commencing work on what would become ‘Tree of Tongues’. What you hear is channeled aggression and a band that reaches new heights on this truly epic album. It is a story of survival and, for Exotic Animal Petting Zoo, a form of catharsis. Their second album Tree of Tongues was originally set to be released April 24, 2012 but was pushed back to May 8th, then to June 19th, and finally to July 17th when it was finally released.At least not to Leslie-Ann Rush, a horse trainer who lives on a seven-acre farm outside Orlando, Florida, a place where the wind makes a rustling sound when it whips through the palms. Rush, 57, who has a kind face and hair the color of corn, breeds and trains gypsy horses she houses in a barn behind her small petting zoo, a wire enclosure where three male kangaroos, four lemurs, a muntjac deer (originally from Asia), a potbellied pig, a raccoon-like kinkajou called Kiwi, and a dog named Dozer all live—the lemurs leaping freely, the kangaroos sleeping on their sides, the petite pig rooting in the ground, the Asian deer balancing
Rush weaves in and around her exotic pets with ease and cheerfulness and Cheerios, doling them out to the lemurs. They thrust their humanlike hands into the open boxes and draw out fistfuls of O’s, which they eat almost politely, one by one, dining daintily while the drool gathers in the corners of their mouths.Rush has a ring-tailed lemur, Liam; two ruffed lemurs, Lolli and Poppi; and a common brown lemur named Charlie. While many lemurs are threatened, the ruffed lemurs are considered critically endangered in the wild. Rush believes that by caring for these captive-bred creatures she is doing her part to help keep lemurs alive on Earth, and she cares for her animals with a profound commitment that consumes her days and even her nights. As darkness falls, she moves from the small enclosure into her home and takes her favorite lemur with her; he shares her bed, coiled up on a pillow by her head.Despite occasional reports of wild kangaroos attacking humans in Australia, Rush’s pets display not a hint of aggression. This may have something to do with the fact that kangaroos are naturally somnolent during daytime hours, and it may also have something to do with the fact that Rush’s kangaroos are no longer truly wild: They were bred in captivity; two of them have been neutered; they are used to human contact. Rush raised each kangaroo in diapers, bottle-fed it, and, touching the sleek suede fur continually, accustomed each
The $35 that Rush charges to visit what she calls her Exotic Animal Experience helps defray the costs involved in keeping her pets. Some exotic-animal owners spend thousands a year on fresh meat, for carnivores that dine daily on raw steak, for primates—omnivores with complex dietary needs—for snakes, which eat rat after rat after rat. In Rush’s case her kangaroos consume huge quantities of grain, while the lemurs eat mounds of fruits and vegetables.
Rush herself lives a lean life, much of her own money poured into feeding her herd. And then there’s her time. She puts abundant hours into caring for her exotics. “They’re 24/7,” she says, and then goes on to add, “but they’re my family. They need me. I can’t explain to you what that feels like. I wake up every morning and come out here, and all my animals come rushing up to
“My family,” she repeats, and a shadow sweeps across her face. “All my life,” she says, “people
Privately owning exotic animals is currently permitted in a handful of states with essentially no restrictions: You must have a license to own a dog, but you are free to purchase a lion or baboon and keep it as a pet. Even in the states where exotic-pet ownership is banned, “people break the law,” says Adam Roberts of Born Free USA, who keeps a running database of deaths and injuries attributed to exotic-pet ownership: In Texas a four-year-old mauled by a mountain lion his aunt kept as a pet, in Connecticut a 55-year-old woman’s face permanently disfigured by her friend’s lifelong pet chimpanzee, in Ohio an 80-year-old man attacked by a 200-pound kangaroo, in Nebraska a 34-year-old man strangled to death by his pet snake. And that list does not capture the number of people who become sick from coming into contact with zoonotic diseases.
The term exotic pet has no firm definition; it can refer to any wildlife kept in human households—or simply to a pet that’s more unusual than the standard dog or cat. Lack of oversight and regulation makes it difficult to pin down just how many exotics are out there. “The short answer is, too many,” says Patty Finch of the Global Federation of Animal Sanctuaries. It’s estimated that the number of captive tigers alone is at least 5,000—most kept not by accredited zoos but by private owners. And while many owners tend to their exotic pets with great care and at no small expense, some keep their pets in cramped cages and poor conditions.
Commercially importing endangered species into the United States has been restricted since the early 1970s. Many of the large exotic animals that end up in backyard menageries—lions and tigers, monkeys and bears—are bred in captivity. Today on the Internet you can find zebras and camels and cougars and capuchins for sale, their adorable faces staring out from your screen; the monkeys with their intelligent eyes; the big cats with their tawny coats. And though such animals are no longer completely wild, neither are they domesticated—they exist in a netherworld that
From his experience in providing sanctuary for exotic animals in need of new homes, often desperately, Roberts says that exotic-pet owners tend to fall into multiple overlapping categories. Some people treat their animals, especially primates, as surrogate children, dressing them up in baby clothes, diapering them, and training them to use the toilet. Some own exotics as symbols of status and power, the exotic animal the next step up from a Doberman or pitbull. There are impulse buyers who simply could not resist purchasing a cute baby exotic. Still others are collectors, like Brandon Terry, who lives in Wake County, North Carolina, in a one-bedroom apartment with 15 snakes, three of them venomous. And then there are wild animal lovers who may start out as volunteers at awildlife sanctuary and end up adopting a rescued animal in need of
Denise Flores of Ohio explains how she acquired her first tiger. “I went to a wild animal park one day, and someone put a baby tiger in my lap. My heart melted; it just melted. I was hooked,” says Flores, who ended up caring for eight rescued big cats, including two white tigers so beautiful they
Some people seek wild animals as pets as a way to reconnect with the natural world. They believe their exotics set them apart, the relationship made all the more intense by the unintended social isolation that is often the result of having an unpredictable beast as a companion. “Yes, of course my exotics make me feel unique,” Rush says. Though anyone can own a cat or dog, exotic-pet owners take pleasure in possessing an animal that has, for hundreds of thousands of years, refused the saddle of domestication: They take the uncivilized into society and in doing so assert
“I wanted something different, something unusual,” says Michelle Berk, formerly of Palisades, Florida, who bought her kinkajou, Winnie, on craigslist. “She was there for me to make my own. We didn’t get a dog because there’s nothing cool or outstanding about owning a dog. A kinkajou—now that seems untouchable. And who doesn’t want the untouchable? They say don’t touch it, so
Tim Harrison understands the allure of owning exotic pets. Thirty-two years ago he worked as a public safety officer in the city of Oakwood, Ohio, and kept a menagerie in his house. He had snakes wrapped around lamp poles. He had rhesus monkeys leaping from counter to couch. He had lions sunning themselves on his gravel driveway. He had capuchins and bears and wolves,
After a hard day of chasing criminals or a boring day of ticketing cars, Harrison would change out of his uniform and drive home to his animals. He always went to the wolves first. His body aching, his mind numbed, he’d let the canines come to him, weaving around his legs. He’d drop down on his knees and then lie flat on his back, the wolves clambering over him. “I would just lie there and let them lick me,” Harrison says, “and it was one of the best feelings in the world.”
Now the animals are gone. Harrison will never again own anything wild or exotic. He believes ownership of all potentially dangerous exotic animals should be banned and is working to make that happen. He underwent a profound transformation, his entire outlook shattered and put back
What happened is this: After decades of being an exotic-pet owner, Harrison went to Africa. He drove over the open plains and grasslands, and he can remember, all these years later, the giraffes’ long lope, the lions’ hypnotic canter, the elephants sucking water up their trunks and spraying themselves so their hides glistened. Harrison gazed upon these wild animals, and he says it was as if his eyes had been blistered shut and were suddenly opened as he witnessed these mammals moving in such profound harmony with their environment that you could hear it: a rhythm, a pulse, a roar. This, Harrison suddenly realized, was how wild animals are supposed to live. They are not supposed to live in Dayton or any other suburb or city; they are creatures in and of the land, and to give them anything less suddenly seemed wrong.
Harrison says he understood then that he didn’t really own wild animals. What he had back in Dayton was a mixed-up menagerie of inbreeding and crossbreeding that resulted in animals that had almost nothing to do with the creatures before him now. He felt that he’d been no better than a warden and that he needed to change his ways. When he returned to Ohio, one by one he gave up his beloved wolves and primates and cats and handed them over to sanctuaries where they’d at least have safety and space. It hurt him to do this. He knew his wolves so well he could howl a
Today Harrison is retired from the police force. He puts as many hours as he can into Outreach for Animals, an organization he helped found to rescue exotic pets and place them in one of the sanctuaries he trusts. Many of the so-called wildlife sanctuaries in this country are actually using their animals to make a profit, commercially breeding them or allowing public contact. The few that operate solely for the benefit of the animals are already overloaded, says Vernon Weir of the American Sanctuary Association, an accrediting organization. “I have trouble finding space for wolf-dog mixes, potbellied pigs, some species of monkeys—many retired from use in research—and all the big cats and bears,” Weir says. “A good sanctuary will take in only what they can
Harrison’s agency fields hundreds of calls a month from law enforcement officials dealing with an escaped animal or owners overwhelmed by the cost and responsibility of an animal’s care. He has been on more than a hundred big cat rescues in the past year and over his lifetime has rescued close to a thousand exotic felines. He was there when a man in Pike County, Ohio, named Terry Brumfield finally agreed to give up his beloved but ill-kept lions. He is currently working with a man who owns a bear that bit off his finger. The owner can’t yet bring himself to let the bear go.
“I meet people where they’re at,” says Harrison. “If an owner isn’t ready to give their exotic up, I help them care for the animal in the best way possible. I help them build a better enclosure or get the best kind of feed. I don’t judge. My hope is that, with the right kind of support, the person will eventually see that owning this animal is a dangerous drain and will voluntarily choose to give it ion he so well understands. He loved his animals. He believed, as most owners do, that his animals loved him. He believed that having a thriving menagerie made him special. “But I was deluded,” he says. “I used to believe there was no animal I could not tame, no animal I was unable to train, and that any animal living under my roof was receiving the best of care.” The delusion, rooted in a deep desire to commune with wild animals, has lingered long after the beasts were gone. Every time he participates in a rescue he has to stop himself from taking the animal home. “I try to keep my contact with the animals I rescue to a minimum,” Harrison explains, “because
Because kangaroos are active typically at dawn and dusk, the animals look lazy in the daylight, dun-colored beasts lying on their sides in cylinders of sun, their thick tails trailing in the dry dirt. But come evening they hop up on their hind legs and press their faces against the large glass window, looking in on Rush in her home: Let me come in, they seem to say. Rush does not let them in, although she did when they were babies. “I have all of these amazing animals of different species, from different continents, and the thing is, they play together,” she says, and she sweeps her hand through the air, gesturing to her multicolored menagerie sunning, sleeping, snacking. She has filmed and posted videos of them playing on YouTube, the lemurs leaping over the kangaroos,
Exotic Animals Animals Photos Images With Down Syndrome With Names To Draw In The Rainforest Wallpapers With Human Teeth
Exotic Animals Animals Photos Images With Down Syndrome With Names To Draw In The Rainforest Wallpapers With Human Teeth
Exotic Animals Animals Photos Images With Down Syndrome With Names To Draw In The Rainforest Wallpapers With Human Teeth
Exotic Animals Animals Photos Images With Down Syndrome With Names To Draw In The Rainforest Wallpapers With Human Teeth
Exotic Animals Animals Photos Images With Down Syndrome With Names To Draw In The Rainforest Wallpapers With Human Teeth
Exotic Animals Animals Photos Images With Down Syndrome With Names To Draw In The Rainforest Wallpapers With Human Teeth
Exotic Animals Animals Photos Images With Down Syndrome With Names To Draw In The Rainforest Wallpapers With Human Teeth
Exotic Animals Animals Photos Images With Down Syndrome With Names To Draw In The Rainforest Wallpapers With Human Teeth
Exotic Animals Animals Photos Images With Down Syndrome With Names To Draw In The Rainforest Wallpapers With Human Teeth
Exotic Animals Animals Photos Images With Down Syndrome With Names To Draw In The Rainforest Wallpapers With Human Teeth
Exotic Animals Animals Photos Images With Down Syndrome With Names To Draw In The Rainforest Wallpapers With Human Teeth
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