A Gift too Awesome to Wrap

We pulled off the slushy dirt road and pulled in behind two other cars that were parked along a covered, chain link fence. The gate was also covered with the same material, and it was padlocked. As soon as we stepped out of the car, we heard the unfamiliar yet unmistakable sound of lions’ roars. This strangely interesting place was my birthday surprise.

Actually, it wasn’t a complete surprise. When my husband had told me the day before that we would be driving about an hour from Indianapolis, the city that I had suggested for my birthday trip, to see a place he had just happened to come across online, I pushed the point to see why we were going to be spending so much time driving around when I had wanted to spend some time in Indy. He had then told me that we would be going to visit a shelter for tigers and lions and other large cats.

Even having been given that information, waiting briefly outside of the padlocked gate on that dirt road in rural Indiana in the mid morning coolness and hearing the noises coming from behind those covered fences, I felt some apprehension, but I felt even more curiosity and excitement.

Very soon after we had reached the gate, a woman who worked at the center let us in and let us know that a tour was just about to start. She then went through the rules for the group of about a dozen people.

“Please remain on the paths and with the tour group at all times,” she said.

“Stay at least three feet from fences,” she continued. “And for your safety and for the safety of our cats, do not touch the cats.”

She then stated that the penalty for touching the fences or the cats would result in an immediate escort from the facility.

At one point in my life, I was a shy, compliant person. Of late, I have deemed that some rules were meant to be broken. As I listened to the rules that had been given in a polite but somber tone, and as I heard the roars of the lions and some other sounds that I did not recognize, I determined rather instantly that these rules would be ones that I had absolutely no intention of breaking.

The staff member asked if we had any questions. My husband asked if it was okay to take photos and was assured that taking pictures was certainly fine. And with that, we started along a dirt path that led us past several small cages that were empty. We learned that those cages used to hold circus tigers, an absurd number of tigers for the size of the enclosures.

We continued on the path to see a lioness lounging high on a wooden platform. While I looked at her with fascination, her sandy coat looking soft and pleasant, she looked at us as if we were merely disturbing her sleep. Though she lived in an enclosure, she seemed quite at home on her perch among the trees with the natural ground beneath her perch.

Unlike zoos, especially the zoos of days past, the Exotic Feline Rescue Center does not create concrete pens or glass enclosures for its cats. Telephone poles are laid out as a base, then a high, double layer of chain link fence encloses areas in which the cats will live. The areas are largely unchanged as it relates to the landscape. The cats do have structures to climb on or lie on, like the one on which we found the grumpy lioness, and they do have shelters as well. Beyond those things though, the area is left as it is; the ground is natural grass and dirt, and the trees and other plants that are native to southwestern Indiana grow as they would normally.

We continued on the path, following our leader, hearing the biographies of each cat on the tour – where they had come from and in what condition they had arrived at EFRC. We took photos and took it all in.

We paused at an enclosure which housed a young lioness, with a lovely fawn colored coat and huge paws, and her roomie, a young tiger. We were told that they had arrived together as cubs and were inseparable – and that the young lioness was the boss. We saw evidence of that when the lioness came to the fence for some affection, rubbing her head along the fence as our guide positioned her body with her side to the fence so that the cat could feel as though she were making contact with her. We noted that the staff member kept both hands at her side and never made an attempt to “pet” the cat. When the young tiger began to walk toward the fence, perhaps in search of some attention, the lioness let out a little sound of disapproval; he turned and went into his shelter, peeking out to look at us.

We continued on past other cats and heard their stories until we came to an area that became quite narrow. Our guide said that we would need to keep a single file line through that part of the tour. I found myself at the end of the line, and I felt a bit apprehensive. I said to my husband, “Hey, I don’t want to be last.”

I’m not sure what I thought might happen if I were last. In reality, I felt completely safe the entire time I was on the tour. The rules are a reflection of how seriously the facility takes the safety of the staff, guests, and the cats. While it was surreal at times to see tigers at every turn on that narrow path, it was truly wonderful too.

At one point, while trying to adhere to the three feet from the fence rule, I looked down and just about exactly three feet from my feet, lying along the telephone pole that was the base of his enclosure, was a tiger, paws outstretched, looking up at me as if he were ready for his photo. And I did indeed take that incredible picture that is the cover photo for this post.

Seriously, who would have thought that on my weekend getaway to Indianapolis that I would be looking down at a stunning tiger lying along a fence closer to me than what many people’s dogs are while I am out on a run.

We concluded the tour by having the privilege of watching Chloe’s cubs playing with each other. Chloe, a female tiger, had arrived at EFRC pregnant. The shelter does not breed the cats. She had a litter of five female cubs, all of which weighed about 200 pounds by that time in late March; they were born in mid June of the previous year so they were not quite a year old.

Touring the Exotic Feline Rescue Center and seeing how dedicated they are to caring for the cats, for the rest of those cats’ lives, and seeing those cats up close was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. It was truly a birthday gift that I will never forget.

It’s not as though last year’s birthday is the birthday by which all other birthdays will be judged, because every birthday with the people I love is special. Still, that gift was absolutely awesome, and I want to thank my Honey for that amazing trip.

I also want to continue to help spread the word; below is the link to the Exotic Feline Rescue Center website. I hope you get to have this amazing experience one day.

http://www.exoticfelinerescuecenter.org/home.html

The Poison Pen, or Keyboard

In February I read an article on the topic of heart attack symptoms in women and the standard of care for cardiovascular disease in women. I then did something that I rarely do. I read the comments following the article

Those comments declined from a well written post about the impact that the lack of meaningful insurance coverage has on the rate at which both sexes seek treatment for serious conditions to accusations of feminists whining about “how bad women have it” to posts akin to those that would begin with “your mama….”

Among other things, February is recognized as American Heart Association heart health awareness month, and the “Go Red for Women” campaign, which brings awareness to heart disease in women, is quite active during the month. That being the case, the publishing of the article during February was relevant, however, it is not my intention to defend the article. It is my intention to point out that, nearly every time I read comments sections, I regret it.

I seem to find five kinds of posts when I do make the mistake of looking to comments sections on public sites. I find the uninformed, the angry, the irrelevant, the illiterate; and I find the truly thoughtful and well written posts, which may be why I do on occasion venture back to the comments section.

Sometimes the posts of the uninformed can be entertaining. I was reading the recap of the University of Michigan women’s gymnastics team’s loss to the defending national champion Oklahoma University women’s team. As you may expect, comments on such news items are few, so I decided to see who else was interested in U of M gymnastics. After reading several positive posts about the team’s performance, I read one that said: “What? Do we celebrate losers now? Do they need a new coach.” The poster was so ignorant of the topic (I hope) that I found his statement too funny to find it annoying. Yes, U of M did lose to Oklahoma, but the team scored over 197 points in the meet, again, and the total points scored is what matters in the overall standings. The team currently stands fifth in the NCAA rankings, with their coach of over 25 successful seasons likely not too concerned about job security.

Sometimes, though the posts from the uninformed are less entertaining. It can be frustrating to read comments when it is fairly clear that a poster did not take the time to read the article on which they just made a comment, sometimes an inflammatory comment, because perhaps they only read a headline and made an assumption. Under those circumstances, they can be both uninformed and angry posters, and they can further bate angry posters.

The angry posters were present in large numbers to comment on the February article about women’s heart health, which was a particularly relevant article in its timing if nothing else. I am not sure why people felt the need to summarily call out women for whining and feminist groups for always talking about “how bad women have it.” The angry do seem to post on the more sensitive topics, those even more sensitive than woman’s health issues. We all know what those topics are. And you know, if you read comments, that the people on the two most extreme ends of the continuum will try to “shout” one another down. And we know too that the posts will deteriorate from at least the little thoughtful dialogue that could have been of value to the, name calling, labeling,  “your mama” posts.

It is often those more sensitive topics too that draw out the irrelevant posts, the ones from people with a point to make whether or not their point has anything to do with the article or discussion on which the poster is commenting. It seems that, in these cases too, posters may not take the time to really read the article but rather assume that they should comment based on key words and on their need to speak out for or against a certain issue. Still, sometimes, these posts just make a person shake her head, bringing back that old “things that make you go, hmmm” line.

Posts written by the illiterate can make one shake her head as well, These posts may be quite deceiving in that, the authors may not be at all illiterate, but they appear to be so because they don’t know which form of “their,” “there,” or “they’re” to use, do not seem to use spell check, and seem to be unable to form a complete sentence – even if someone paid them to. No matter the point the poster is trying to make, the message is lost to the atrocious writing.

Yet, at the opposite end of the spectrum, we find the posts that are well written, expressing valuable insights about complex issues, bringing thought back to topics in which shouting rules the rapid fire exchange of characters on the screen, and ultimately restoring some hope in humanity as a whole.

On occasion, the internet has given a voice to people who have previously gone unheard, and in so doing, it has been used as a force for good. But the internet has also given a voice to everyone who has a connection and a keyboard, or touch screen, and a strong opinion.

In the United States we have the right to free speech. That has translated to people feeling as though they have the right to say anything that flies through their brains and to their fingers in an instant, without giving it a second thought. It used to be described as “the filter between the brain and the mouth.” Perhaps now it should be described as the filter between the brain and the fingers, but wherever the filter, perhaps it would ideal if posters put that filter to use on occasion.