Functioning with a system gone haywire...

Here’s a fun little phenomenon - I can no longer understand two sources of simultaneous cognitive input.

For instance, if I’m on the phone, and someone starts talking to me in person, I’m going to tune out one voice or the other, and I might not get to choose which one.

If I’m trying to read instructions, directions, or anything else informational, someone talking to me will render the print completely nonsensical.  I often have to plug my ears to read and understand legalese. 

Similarly, cognitive output can be affected by noise or other stimulus.  If someone nearby is shouting, such as a child in a restaurant, even if they are not addressing me, I will have difficulty forming whole sentences.  If I am writing and someone asks me a question, whatever I was about to write gets blown completely out of my brain and it may take me several minutes to get it back.

I’m one of those people who will turn down the car stereo when looking for an address. 

This is not necessarily new.  Thinking back, I have had a few similar difficulties dating back to about 2007.  I’ve gotten terribly cranky with people who forget that I cannot understand you if water is running, so please don’t talk to me while I’m washing the dishes.  People talking through intercoms are very difficult to understand, so if you’re going to make me do it, then you need to not talk.  If you insist on a running dialog, then YOU can talk to the person in the box.  

And space.  I’m a person that needs space.  Not room – It’s not about square footage – It’s about no input, no stimulus, no demands.  I don’t need much, but if you’re a walking peanut gallery then I need you to be elsewhere for at least an hour every day.

I’m thinking this might be why I’m better singing acapella than with music.

It’s gotten much worse just recently, and I don’t think I realized it until the other day when I was at a grocery store here in New Zealand.  The shelves are full of unfamiliar packaging, and the isles are full of noisy people.  I really have to concentrate to find what I’m looking for.  I wanted a beverage.  Not a soft drink, and nothing citrus, but I’m tired of water and tea.  I know they sell flavored seltzer in this country, but there was too much going on around me and I couldn’t take the time staring at that one shelf until my brain let me see what was there.  Remember those pictures with the random pattern?  You’d stare at them and relax until a 3D image popped out?  That’s what it’s like, except that unless everybody stops talking, it will never work.

In the last year or so I noticed that I get confused when someone is yelling at me.  I would love to be that person in a confrontation that can scream right back into an assailant’s face, or even just stand up for myself in a more dignified manner, but unfortunately when the volume goes up and the words get sharp, my brain fuzzes out nearly to the point of “Where am I?”

Hearing multiple radio stations or television programs simultaneously tightens my chest like a slow panic setting in.  Hearing an echo in a bad phone connection is like that but worse.

All of this makes me wonder if what is happening is mechanical, like an inner ear issue, or if it’s a mental condition that’s been exacerbated by the last few years of emotional and psychological abuse.  If anyone ever figures out our country’s health-care fiasco, I may go ask a physician.

Either way, the simple fact that all of this is part of my reality, and yet I can still walk onto a stage at a crowded festival, and at will be engaging and articulate…  That makes me a total badass.

So there.

Big Cats and the Media

Big cats are big news, but only when things go wrong.
If you dig around you'll find stories about a new cub, or how a facility has developed a new strategy for supporting wild populations.  You really won't see some of the really exciting things...  Did you know that a biologist, working with a zoo and a conservation based breeding program, managed to milk a tiger?  That means better milk replacer formulas can be developed to help in situations where hand raising is appropriate.  That's so exciting!  But not nearly as exciting as a keeper getting killed. Or an animal "escaping" into an adjacent exhibit. Which is why you probably had no idea.

You might wonder why zoos, keepers, biologists, directors, and others don't try harder to steer the media toward more positive, or at least less biased reporting.  I'm going to show you.


Last summer one of our keepers broke our safety protocol and learned a hard lesson.  I got a message from Shaun Hall of the Daily Courier out of Grants Pass asking about the incident.  He wanted to run a story.  I gladly spoke with Shaun and let him know that The keeper was going to be fine, the Park was reviewing and updating safety protocol, and that the tiger involved was completely unharmed.  He called my personal number several times, digging for more information.  I continued to answer his calls, and answer his questions, but eventually had to bluntly ask why he was after the gory details.  "Well, people like the critters."  Yes, but when we had new babies at the Park, we had to call them.  The Daily Courier did a very nice article, and never followed up.  Why now, when someone was injured, is the Park so interesting?  Why do you want to know which tiger was involved, or the name of the keeper?  The cat didn't do anything wrong, and the keeper has been punished enough without being held up for public humiliation.
Shaun agreed to my reasoning (supposedly), graciously accepted the information that I was willing to offer, and said he would love to come out to the park to celebrate those cubs' second birthday, and run a nice positive story.

I guess he thought I wouldn't see the local paper because I was on location elsewhere.

What follows is the story published in the Grants Pass Daily Courier.  I pasted it into a word document and inserted my responses and commentary throughout before sending it back to him complete with the personal note at the bottom.

I was hoping that he would respond.  Maybe he could justify what he did, or apologize, or include some of the clarifications I sent in a later article.  He never did.  I sent this over his head, to the owners and editors of the paper.  Nothing. Zero response.  I did hear from the Daily Courier later in the summer when they wanted me to purchase advertising with them.  I was nice, but they won't be doing that again.  Ever.

I have a very similar situation with Channel 9 news in Denver.  Heavily slanted, damning article, me following up with the other side of the story and various corrections, and then...  Nothing.  They don't care.  They don't want to give you the opportunity to care, either.

So it's not that nobody tries to get the other side of the story out there, it's that the bully has all the best toys, the loudest horns, and the most people willing to stand with them, because only a fool would stand with the loser, right?

Last note - I took Sara's last name out of the article, but otherwise it's a true copy.

By Shaun Hall of the Daily Courier

Posted Jul. 3, 2016 at 6:03 PM

CAVE JUNCTION — The bite that a tiger inflicted on an animal keeper at Great Cats World Park last month was serious enough that it actually broke the keeper's arm.

That detail about the June 16 incident was just one of several revelations contained in a newly released report filed by Josephine County Animal Protection Officer David Pitts, who visited the park the next day.

In a related development, officials confirmed that two U.S. Department of Agriculture inspectors visited the park Thursday.

Pitts reported that the Great Cats general manager told him keeper Sara R__ hadn't noticed that the tiger's "den" was unlocked when she pulled a cable opening a "guillotine" door, which in turn allowed the cat, a rare white Bengal tiger named Scooby, to enter the den.

When the tiger then rubbed his face against the gate, it opened, prompting R__ to push her body against it an effort to close the gate, the manager told Pitts.

When the keeper then put her arm across the slightly open gate, to gain leverage, the tiger struck.

**Struck?  She stuck her arm in his face and he bit her.  Then he let go, because he is not a vicious beast.  He is a tiger.

The manager, identified in the report only as "Sarah," blamed another employee for leaving the tiger's den unlocked, and blamed R__ for not noticing it was unlocked.

R__ suffered fractures and extensive soft-tissue damage.

**You forgot to mention that once the bone knits, she will fully recover the use of that arm.  The doctors expect there will be no permanent damage beyond a scar.

Pitts reported that the tiger, if it escaped the den, could have hopped a 6-foot wooden fence.

**He could swim a moat, too.  Those are 8” security fences. He STILL never had access to any public area of the park, and he never made any attempt to leave his den area.

Messages left Friday for Great Cats management to comment for this report were not returned.

**Because, as I told you before, we are on location and difficult to reach on the weekends.  That’s why I gave you my personal cell number, which you failed to use in this instance, though you have called me before.

In a related development, two U.S. Department of Agriculture inspectors visited the park Thursday.

Department spokeswoman Tanya Espinosa said the agency was looking into the incident to determine if there were any Animal Welfare Act violations.

**This is standard protocol in case of an animal related injury.

The biting incident is not the first for the park and its president, Craig Wagner, according to the USDA.

Five years ago, during a "photo shoot," a teenager allowed to handle a tiger and leopard was bitten by the leopard, according to a USDA complaint filed in 2013.

**As of this time, the USDA has failed to show any proof in regard to this ALLEGED violation.  No medical records, no reports, not even a name.  We are at a loss as to where this complaint originated from or why an unsubstantiated rumor is allowed on a public record.

After that incident, a leopard was left loose and unattended inside an admission/gift shop building, whereupon an adult and toddler entered and were injured, according to a complaint filed by the agency's Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service. The complaint didn't specify how they were injured.

**A very small leopard cub was in a crate in the gift shop, and managed to wiggle her way out.  The toddler ran at her, and got nipped.  Afterwards, the family went on our 1.5 hour walking tour and enjoyed petting the baby servals before following one of our employees to the clinic. (The Park insisted and paid for the visit.) The child was treated with a bit of tape. 

The complaint alleges several other safety and animal care violations between 2008 and 2011, including lack of adequate barriers between the public and cats on stage. The complaint against the facility is still awaiting hearing, Espinosa said.

**During this time, the statutes that the park is to follow in regard to the distance and barriers guidelines did not change, but the opinions of the inspectors whose job it is to assure compliance did.  The statutes are vague and left to the interpretation of the individual inspector, and since we have come to an understanding by working with those inspectors, we have had no more citations.  With just a bit more research you can find the more recent inspection reports, clearly showing us in compliance.

According to the Associated Press, at least 22 people have been killed and 246 injured by exotic cats in the United States since 1990. In 2013, the head keeper at WildCat Haven Sanctuary in Sherwood, near Portland, was attacked and killed by a cougar when she was cleaning an enclosure alone.

*22 people killed in 26 years, the vast majority of whom put themselves in harm’s way with complete understanding that they were doing dangerous work. 

Last year 34 Americans were killed by pet dogs.  

Great Cats World Park is unaffiliated Wildcat Haven, and should not be vilified due to someone else’s tragedy, especially when protocol varies so widely between the two facilities. 

Since 2004, Wagner has been associated with the Great Cats World Park, a popular tourist attraction located at 27919 Redwood Highway.

The park is home to more than 40 cats, including lions, leopards and tigers.

**Craig Wagner began construction of Great Cats World Park in 2003, and opened to the public in 2005.  At this time, he has well over 30 years of experience working with and caring for big cats.  The Park also houses 13 species of cat not mentioned above.

The agency said Wagner was convicted in 1993 in Wisconsin of animal neglect

**In the 90's, Wagner was arrested and jailed for growing pot.  His cats were confiscated and he successfully sued to get them back.  So that the county didn’t get stuck with the bill for feeding these animals while they were in custody, Wagner was charged with a misdemeanor. The court was able to show no evidence of food in the enclosures.  Today you will still find no leftover food, because it gets removed once the cats are finished eating.  Failure to do so is a USDA violation for unsanitary conditions.

It should be noted that the USDA was called in to lend their weight to this incident, but they found no violation.  

 and was warned in 2004 about failing to provide care for three leopards and other animals.

**This warning came from a facility in Sandstone, MN.  At the time, Wagner was working at Wildlife Safari in Winston, OR, and building the Park in Cave Junction.  He had left the cats under the care of an experienced keeper, and the facility owner, which was the CEC, not Wagner.

In 2004, the park was found guilty in U.S. District Court of conspiring to violate the Endangered Species Act by agreeing to sell endangered ocelots.

**This is false.  In 1999, the Center for Endangered Cats purchased an Ocelot from a breeder.  The transaction included a lot of documents, but not the right ones.  The lack of proper documentation is what violated the Endangered Species Act.  Wagner admitted his mistake and paid a fine.  The courts recommended that Wagner keep the cat, in the best interest of the animal.

Shaun,

We have now spoken several times, and you have insisted that you are running these stories because people “Care about the critters”. People care, but you are telling a one-sided and heavily skewed version of what life is at Great Cats World Park.  Nowhere do you mention Craig’s 35+ years of experience, the Park’s successful breeding of endangered cats, the educational value of the tours, the tens of thousands of happy visitors, the college credits earned by internships at the Park, the vibrantly healthy cats, or the Park’s efforts toward global conservation and local public outreach. 

Whatever your intentions or goals for posting such an article, please understand that you have hurt us.  

I asked you specifically not to identify Scooby.  I asked this because I did not want this magnificent animal’s engaging personality to be tainted in the public eye simply for following his instinct.  I asked you specifically not to identify Sara.  I asked this because nobody is perfect, and though she made a mistake, her injury is both lesson and punishment enough without you opening her up to public ridicule.  

You stating that the manager “blamed” others in the incident report is also deliberately misleading.  When being interviewed by the authorities, we are taught to give straight forward answers.  There is no room for and individual to state, “but I should have checked”.  Nobody is blaming anybody for anything. Instead we have implemented new and better safety protocol while we count our blessings that the cat and keeper are doing just fine.

I am disappointed in you.

Personally I have dedicated four years to Great Cats, and let it encompass my entire life.  I have gone weeks without a break, engaging in backbreaking labor, developing programs to help the cats and our community, and answering emails and phone calls late into the day.  Countless times I have given up the chance of having a day to myself because a vendor was coming to visit, or the weather took a sudden turn, or because a false report placed our geriatric lioness wandering somewhere in the woods.  I have spent hours in the office, wet, freezing, and covered in mud and cat poo, because the animals come before my administrative duties.  Nearly four years in the beautiful Illinois River Valley, and I have only visited the Caves on business, been to the Redwoods twice, and have had no opportunity to create any kind of social life outside of my coworkers.  And then, after another weekend of putting on my best smiling face and striving to teach the public about the natural world and the importance of our wild cats, I see this…  You, standing up in both print and digital media, showing off only the worst that you could find to say about us and our home.  All that, and I don’t even get to be considered as a thinking, feeling person.  

I am exhausted, and too heartsick to truly be angry anymore. 

I can’t even imagine how Craig is feeling right now.  This Park, these cats, are representative of his entire life’s work.

We, the staff and management of Great Cats World Park ask that a retraction be made.  Barring that, please do not mention us, or contact us again. 

Traveler W. Hawk

General Manager

Great Cats World Park

#Tiger #Attack #GreatCatsWorldPark #DailyCourier #Media #CraigWagner #FalseReporting #BigCats #Bitten #Mauled #Scratched 

Hello, it’s me again…  The former General Manager for Great Cats World Park of Southern Oregon.

I have been busy getting settled into New Zealand and trying to secure a lucrative online job.  Half of that is going well.

Due to some recurring crap on a FB travel forum, I’d like to have a discussion about animal rights versus animal welfare.  

Animal cruelty is a hot-button issue all over the internet, and the first thing I’d like to highlight is why animal cruelty situations have seen such a spike in recent years.  

Well, actually they haven’t.  

In this day and age when everyone is carrying a phone that takes crisp, clear video footage, why are so many of the videos online shaky and grainy?  Most of that is old footage recycled for a new campaign, and most of the time the images and the descriptions don’t match.  A great example of this is the anti-white tiger campaign that is still exploiting “Kenny”, a tiger who has been dead for years, as supposed proof that all white tigers are inbred mongrels.  Another example is a video circulating that supposedly shows a man from the US company, “Have Trunk, Will Travel” beating one of their elephants.  I can assure you the man in the video is neither Bill nor his son because I’ve known them for 20+ years and they’re both bald.  Dude in the video has a pony tail.

PETA, Humane Society of the United States, Big Cat Rescue, The Dodo, and other such organizations understand how to pull on the sucker strings of the general public.  They make a video with the intention that it will go viral and make them money.  Internet videos are for marketing.  I’m going to say that one more time…  Anyone who posts pictures or video of an animal being tortured is more interested in manipulating your feelings than they are about the animals.  HSUS never saves a single one of the sad puppies you see in their advertisements; they just want your money.

Now please understand that animal cruelty and exploitation for profit are real things.  However, pledging to never visit another zoo is punishing people and animals for atrocities they didn’t commit, and may hurt programs that are trying to help what’s left of the wild population.

The next thing I’d like to highlight is that animal exploitation for profit is not necessarily cruel to the animals.  Yeah, that’s a hard one to get your head around.  Just like horses and dogs, elephants have a very long history of working alongside man, and they do not have to be beaten, deprived, or otherwise acclimated in order to carry a human safely.  A bull hook, when properly used, does not hurt at all.  It simply helps give direction.
Every big cat in every facility in the world has at some point been separated from its mother.  Just like the ones in the wild.  Why? Because if they aren’t given their own space, they will likely either kill or breed each other.  They have no instinct for familial recognition because they’re *Predators*.  Once mom is away from her babies, be they two weeks old or two years old, she comes back into heat.  It’s how they’re programmed for survival in the wild.

Whether you are an advocate for animal rights or animal welfare depends on how you feel about animals in captivity.  If you believe that captive wildlife should be provided a clean and comfortable environment, that breeding programs are essential to future generations, that it is possible for a keeper to develop a bond with a wild animal, that zoos are important for research and education, that horses can be ethically owned and ridden, and the family dog is family, your stance is more toward animal welfare.

If you believe that all forms of captivity are cruel, including wildlife rehabilitation, that hand raising of cubs is wrong for any reason, that people can learn everything they need to know about animals from books and the internet, that wild animals should be found only in the wild, and never in cages, and they should never be kept as pets or a source of food, or as a resource for the benefit of humans, then you side more with the animal rights activists.

Most of us fall somewhere in between, which means most of us are hypocrites to some degree.  Yes, that’s right, I said it.  And I’m guilty of it, too.  

Whichever side of the issue resonates best with your beliefs, please remember that BOTH sides are about the continued well-being of wildlife.  If you want to help further your cause, spend your energy by getting out and doing something.  Go start a recycling program, or a fund raiser to buy back a few acres of habitat.

Shaming people on the internet just makes you an asshole, and sharing tawdry video footage just makes more money for lobbyists.  Neither action has ever helped a single animal.

What's in a Name?

 Several weeks ago as I sought direction for this shiny new blog of mine, I offered as an opening, “Ask me anything.” I shouldn’t be surprised that my name was at the root of most responses. 

Is Traveler your real name?  Why did you change it?

     In 1993 at the age of eighteen I petitioned the court for a legal change of name, which was granted. Forty dollars and a reason was all it took. My reasoning was simple enough on the surface; my given name didn’t suit me, and rarely was that name used to my benefit.

     Words are just words, simple tools of communication until they are used with the intent to harm. Just as a leather belt is only an object, a simple tool intended to hold up a pair of jeans until a more nefarious purpose is found.

     My given name was Traci. As far as names go, there is nothing wrong with it. It’s normal without being terribly common, borders on androgyny without crossing a line, and has no historical hero or villain for the current bearer of the name to live down or strive to emulate. Traci was a perfectly serviceable moniker until I was about five or six years old. That was about the time I began to seriously dislike my own name.

     Again, the word itself has nothing in it to offend. Rather my distaste had everything to do with how and why that name was used. I almost never heard “Traci” roll off the tongue with affection, fondness, respect, or even with a simple acknowledgement for the person it was intended to represent. Rather it was snapped, sneered, or served dripping derision. To hear my proper name was to be reminded that I was at fault. My performance was lacking. I had failed or simply been found wanting. My name was spoken in anger, disappointment, exasperation, irritation, irony, and often in dismissal. I learned to dread two syllables.

     Oh, but certainly I couldn’t have spent my entire childhood being a walking disaster? True, and that’s what nicknames were for. I was called things like Brat, Tweety, Turkey, and Kid. Among my friends were names like Spacey and T-Ray. Even the less-than-flattering nicknames that were meant to tease were spoken with more regard for my feelings than my given name ever was. I cringe to remember my Dad calling me “Shit-for-Brains” with a smile on his face or “Traci” with a look of abject hatred. 

     Somehow this phenomenon even translated to writing. Any pet name or title I was granted was treated as a proper noun whereas my own name would usually show up without capitalization. This is something that still bothers me. Whatever you name me, if the first character is in lower case, I will feel as though the word was printed with intent to harm. 

     In all fairness, I have never been an easy person to know. Inborn quirks in both personality and thought process, inherent social phobia, among other eccentricities make for unpredictability not conducive to success in society. Luckily I had been blessed with a small number of friends that managed to tolerate my weird into my late teens when something remarkable happened. 

     It was 1992 when I first walked through the gates of a Renaissance Festival and found my people. Within a couple of months I had expanded my network of friends to include men and women, and even children, of different cultures, backgrounds, races, religions, political leanings, and tax brackets. Out of the dust I was embraced by a subculture that allowed me to be different without being either sinister or pitiable. If ever I said or did anything unconventional I was encouraged to explore and expand on the idea instead of being arbitrarily shut down.

     That’s not to say that everything was suddenly perfect. Wherever humans gather there are always flaws and disagreements, struggles for dominance, and general discontent. But the real key was the almost universal respect for autonomy, and what a gift that can be to someone who had never really fit in anywhere, and so was continually pushed to conform.

     It was among these poets, dreamers, and philosophers that I was first called by the name of Traveler. The name wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate, and pronounced with meaning. How the name came to be mine is another story, and oddly one that isn’t mine to tell. What is important here is that the name was immediately and universally accepted as my very own proper noun. Traveler may seem like an odd thing to call a woman, but remarkably it is usable in every sense that most people take for granted in their own birth-name. More important to me is that this word has been used in every possible tone. I have gotten to experience this designation uttered with acceptance, love, respect, and best of all in friendship and simple human regard. It has been such a gift.

     Sometimes having an unusual name is inconvenient. People think they’ve misheard, or that I’ve mistakenly given my surname or the name of my company. Some people display their discomfort by making fun or refusing to call me by name. I have even had people who insisted on calling me Traci even after I explained that in doing so they were hurting me, or that I haven’t answered to my birth name in well over 20 years.

     It’s okay.  I know who I am.   

The confidence to say that makes a court fee the best forty dollars I have ever spent.

I've been electrocuted.

Looked around for a broom this morning, and instead found this wonderful little tool... A Swiffer Dry.  I attached a pad to the appropriate end and commenced to skidding about the room with it.  This thing works great!  It picked up all sorts of dust and dog hair that I hadn't even noticed on the floor!

But really, shouldn't there be a public health warning?  Some sort of "Danger - Static" advisory would have been helpful, but no.  There I am, blithely Swiffering away, when ZAP!

Holy hell.

Once my heart restarted, I decided the floors are clean enough.

I'm on my third and final night of my first official house-sitting gig.  I am here due to a pair of super sweet and very well behaved black labs.  They get fed twice a day and taken for walks.  Pretty easy.

I was assured that the dogs do not sleep on the bed.  They each have a crate, and will go to their assigned places at bedtime.  At least they did the first night.

Last night, as temperatures plummeted into the negative, I could feel the cold radiating through the bedroom floor.  Each dog has a thick bed, but they're still on the floor.  Sure enough, about 3am, as quietly and subtly as a large canine possibly can, a weight settled on the foot of the bed.  The second hound joined us about a half hour later. I lay there thinking about that.  I hate to teach someone else's fur kids bad habits.  But it was Cold, and they're such good dogs, and they were being very respectful.  I chose to simply ignore their presence, and allowed them to pass the night elevated and snug.  It's their home, and the whole reason I am here is for their health and well being.

The family comes home tomorrow, and I can return to my own bed.  This has been good.  It's a nice way to break into the freelancer lifestyle.  I have enjoyed being so close to my Denver people, though I didn't see very many people.  I think it helps just to feel closer.

Just two weeks...

Eep.

One thing I know for certain about writing is that if you're waiting around for something interesting to happen, you could be waiting an awfully long time.  Sometimes you need to find the interesting in the everyday.  Also, in doing this, you just might alter your own perception into taking an active interest in your own reality.  What a wonderfully healthy and fulfilling concept.

My current everyday reality rests largely in figuring out what I'm going to be when I grow up.  Or rather how to make what I want manifest.  I have gotten some great leads, filled out several profiles, and sent a number of proposals and cover letters.  I'm helping out a friend with her social media marketing, which is allowing me to gain some real experience in such things.

Also, for the first time ever, I am house-sitting for a stranger.  This is a soft-pitch starter job as the lady of the house and I have many close mutual friends and the dogs that are in my charge for the next few days are as friendly and well behaved as you could please.  I'll even forgive Prince Charming for the good morning kiss.  My fault for sleeping so close to the edge at his face level, I suppose.

Ready or not, I leave for New Zealand at the first of the year.  I am so excited.  I am so anxious.  I am grateful and curious and scared.  It will be amazing.

On a Facebook post I asked my friends to suggest a blog entry topic.  The most responses came from a request to write about my name.  The how and why of making what had been merely a nickname into my full legal identity.  So that's coming.  I'll need a quiet mind to write that one.  It's a simple story with a complicated emotional undertow.  It's a good challenge.