Summer turns shelter into beast of burden for volunteer
By Michelle Knight knight@theacorn.com

BILL SPARKES/Acorn Newspapers COZY DUO- A pair of 6-week-old raccoons wake up from a nap in their cage at Camarillo Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. Many wild young creatures are brought in by the public to be cared for until they're healthy and mature enough to release. For further information, call (805) 482-7617, or visit www.camarillowildliferehabilitation.org.

Nicky Thole had no idea 12 years ago that feathers and fur would become such a huge part of her life.

It all began with guilt. The Camarillo Heights resident became a volunteer at an animal shelter after her cat injured a rabbit. Thole had tried to nurse it back to health and felt qualified to do so since she has a medical background. But she admits she did everything wrong.

She kept the wild rabbit in a box inside the house, exposing it to stress and noise it wasn't used to. Despite her efforts, the fuzzy rabbit died.

To make up for the loss of the rabbit, Thole volunteered at the local animal shelter. She went on to help care for rabbits at a private inhome shelter and eventually decided to open her own animal rehabilitation facility.

A 2-month-old opossum

At her own expense, Thole opened the Camarillo Wildlife Rehabilitation Center in 1994.

Gradually, cages of varying heights and lengths took up space throughout Thole's threequarters-of-an-acre hilltop property. Over the years it has served as an urgent care, baby nursery, convalescent and retirement home and a hospice for wildlife.

Summer is the most hectic time for Thole, who's married to Ludger Thole, and the mother of 3-year-old Halina. From hikers and homeowners to veterinary clinics and animal control personnel in two counties, people bring her orphaned and injured wildlife from sunrise to well after sunset every day of the week.

Her facility is listed on the California Department of Fish and Game website.

"It's endless," said Thole, who isn't paid for her services. "I'm never sitting doing nothing."

A relentless cycle of feeding and cleaning

She starts the day at 7 a.m., making formula for rufous-sided towhees and other baby birds in the nursery. She has to bottle-feed some. Then she fills food and water dishes in the aviary for the finches, Say's phoebes, woodpeckers and other birds, and stocks the cages of infant skunks, coyotes and opossums.

Feeding the newly hatched fowl is a relentless task that has to be done throughout the day. Some babies eat every hour, others every 30 minutes. Several weeks ago while in bed with a cold, Thole put a nest of baby songbirds inside a portable incubator at her bedside so she wouldn't have to get up to feed them.

Then there are the doses of medication she dispenses throughout the day to injured wildlife.

In between patient and feeding rounds, she squeezes in time to drop off and pick up Halina from preschool, check email, answer the constantly ringing telephone and warm up prepared meals.

Cleaning is another neverending chore, consuming whatever moments are left in her 17hour day. Cages, towels, utensils and other materials have to be disinfected after every use to keep diseases from spreading among the animals.

Thole has no time to name or cuddle wildlife, no matter how adorable they are. Nor does she want to. For the sake of their survival when returned to the wild, she has minimal contact with the animals so they retain their natural fear of people.

"It stopped being fun a long time ago," Thole said. "And I don't mean to sound cynical . . . they get what they need, and then they're released."

A walking wildlife encyclopedia

Picking up and turning over a small black phoebe that probably fell out of its nest, Thole said the bird's blistered wound is healing well. The bird is good to have around, she said; it eats flies, mosquitoes and other pests.

In addition to learning countless facts about wildlife during 13 years of running the facility, Thole has seen a range of horrific injuries, too. But it's the damage people cause that troubles her the most.

For example, the raccoon with a leg severed by a trap, an opossum whose eyes had been gouged out, its eye sockets stained with a felt-tipped marker. Another had a wire wrapped around its snout.

Four month-old raccoons snuggle together in a metal cage in the nursery. They were found inside a box without food and water in a Los Angeles alley, and sent to Thole through an informal network of friends and animal lovers. They arrived dehydrated and barely alive, and Thole immediately gave them fluids. Their health is steadily improving, she said.

Thole provides nearly all of the medical care the animals need. For the few procedures she's unable to do- blood tests, X-rays, pinning complicated fractures- she sends animals to a Thousand Oaks clinic that donates its services.

Except for marine life and a few large mammals such as bears and deer, her state and federal permits allow her to care for all native California animals.

Once healthy, she releases them. But the facility has a few permanent disabled residents- a redtailed hawk and burrowing owl, both with amputated wings, and two screech owls with eye problems. When the busy season is over and time permits, Thole takes them to street fairs to educate the public on what to do if they find an orphaned or injured wild animal.

Although she cares for exotic wildlife, she can't turn away an injured domestic animal. A duck sleeps in a cage in a corner of the nursery, healing from wounds suffered in a dog attack. Someone abandoned it in a Simi Valley park.

"I'm a bit of a sucker," Thole said. "If there's something I see that needs to be wrapped or cared for, I will."

Needs support

Considering the special food, feeding and medical equipment needed for each species, every animal represents an investment of time, money and effort. A baby raccoon, for example, costs about $500 to care for over a six-month period, Thole said.

A couple of veterinary clinics donate medical supplies and services, and monetary donations cover about 10 percent of the costs. But it's primarily her husband's income as a horse trainer that supports the family and the wildlife facility.

The Tholes haven't calculated the cost per month of food bills, additional electricity, water and other supplies needed to operate the center, let alone the money they've invested in the dozens of specialty cages.

After years of marriage, Ludger Thole has come to accept the expenses and his wife's hectic routine. He admits, however, that he misses spending time with her during the frantic summer months.

"That's what her whole life is about. . . . It's her passion to save the wildlife," he said. "I see the good cause, and sometimes I say I tolerate it more than support it. But I do support it, too."

Two volunteers help Thole when they can. But the work isn't for the fainthearted. One woman never returned after washing the laundry. Thole said the odd smell may have scared her off.

Despite help from volunteers, Thole has a desperate need for dependable transportation to get animals to and from the Thousand Oaks clinic and shelters in western Los Angeles County. Less time on the road would mean more time she could spend with her family and care for the animals.

It would be a dream come true, Thole said, to receive a donation large enough to buy property that would house a larger rehabilitation facility and dedicated volunteers she could teach what she's learned over the years.

"I wish that there were more people getting involved that wanted to help," Thole said. "It's a way of life; you do it because you love the animals."

While her labor of love at times turns into a beast of burden, Thole nonetheless feels the pressure of running one of the few Southern California facilities permitted to rehabilitate wildlife.

Worried about who would step in to care for the animals if she moved away or quit, Thole said, "even though we network with other groups, if I wasn't here, these animals would die, basically."

She couldn't live with the guilt, she said.

For information on volunteering or what to do when you find orphaned or injured wildlife, visit Nicky Thole's website at camarillowildliferehabilitation.com.