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 The Woman:

Eve Fertig is undoubtedly one of the pioneers of rehabilitation. At seventy? years young, she is vibrant, beautiful and undeniably charismatic. In her earliest years she was exposed to suffering and anguish, both human and animal, in a time of world-wide war and depression. Eve was fortunate to have been born to a family of integrity, warmth and compassion. Her father imbued qualities of mercy and wisdom, and instilled great social conscience and respect in his daughter for all living things. She would grow to surpass even his shining example. After years of personal sacrifice, working and raising a family and supporting her beloved husband, Norman, in his endeavors, she began to follow her life-long dream of rehabilitating animals at her own wildlife sanctuary, and educating others tirelessly on the importance and delicacy of the world around them. Her living legacy to us are her touching stories, her wise insights and the seeds of compassion she has planted in the many hearts she has warmed. Eve Fertig and her husband Norman own and operate the Enchanted Forest Wildlife Sanctuary in Alden, New York. Mrs. Fertig teaches courses in Saving Endangered Species and Caring for Injured and Orphaned Wildlife at D'Youville, Trocaire, and Niagara County Community Colleges. She has trained more than 200 rehabilitators in New York State. This is her story.

The Interview:

The interview was conducted by Joe MacLeod at the 1996 IWRC Conference at Niagara Falls, New York on October 13, just prior to the end of the Conference. In the words of the interviewer:

"I looked forward to my first IWRC conference for many reasons. Among them, I anticipated meeting those rehabbers who felt the wonder and honour of this work, as I do, and I wasn’t disappointed. I noticed groups of people forming around a small, charming and lively lady, who was later introduced to me as Eve Fertig. This was to be the first interview I had ever done, and I must admit it was very much a spur-of-the-moment thing. However, all the planning in the world would not have provided me a more charming subject.

"Dr. and Mrs. Fertig were sitting in the Palm Court lounge next to the pool on Sunday morning, the last day of the Conference. Dr. Fertig had just arrived back from a trip, and they were going to travel back to Alden together. Mrs. Fertig was waiting for a session that she wanted to attend. The gracious lady never did get to the seminar, and I thank her for the interview!"

This interview was transcribed by Astrid MacLeod, and a follow-up phone interview with Eve and Norman Fertig was conducted on December 15 by Astrid and Joe MacLeod. This transcript remains largely unedited so that some of the essence and spirit of Eve Fertig might shine through. Imagine the hearty laugh, the lively Bronx accent and the enthusiasm of Eve. Read on, and enjoy!

online: Perhaps you can tell us how you got your start?

Mrs. Fertig: I would be happy to…it’s my favorite question. I get that question at all my classes.

I was a product of the depression, and that really goes way back, long before you were born. My father was a milkman in the Bronx. Fort Apache, the Bronx. New York. We lived in a tenement house, on the top floor, in a three room apartment and my father was the first SPCA in the Bronx. During the depression, people could hardly feed their families, so they couldn’t feed their pets. Many dogs and cats were deliberately abandoned. Some were "set free" in Van Cortland Park and Bronx Park… they’d think these house pets would become great hunters, but they will never become hunters or learn how, so they were in very bad shape. My father would bring them home with the sole purpose of getting them adopted. My mother was a saint… a Jewish saint.

online: (laughs) Aren’t all Jewish mothers saints?

Mrs. Fertig: (laughs) Absolutely! We had an old-fashioned stove on feet or legs…the old stoves. My father would go down to the superintendent, who would give him old shelves from the iceboxes…there were no refrigerators…and the shelves would be stood up on end and made into a cage around the stove. The back wall was protection, there were three shelves, and there was a cage. In there went the dogs. We also had washtubs in the kitchen. Also, a laundry tub with long, skinny legs. Around those legs was a cage for cats.

On the roof were pigeon coops and bird houses for any bird that was injured , besides homing pigeons. Now, the greatest sport during the depression was pigeon racing. My father would take Sheik, who was the sexiest of all the pigeons, out to Spring Valley. A friend of his had a truck,and he would take my father and Sheik, and all the other men with their prize homing pigeons. Now, Spring Valley is a big metropolis, but in the Thirties it was wilderness. The man who owned the truck - his relative owned the farm there, and they would have a release early at sunrise, and the birds would fly back to the Bronx. Then they all chipped in, a quarter a pigeon. The pigeon that came home first was the winner. My father would always win. Sheik was gorgeous…he looked like Rudolph Valentino. At the last Conference there was a book put out by Dan Mackey, that even a pigeon has a right to happiness. This is the story about what they call "trash animals", and I don’t believe God makes junk!

online: That was still during the depression? A quarter a pigeon was a lot of money!

Mrs. Fertig: You betcha! It added up, and with that kind of money, you were able to buy food. Well, they heard that there was one job opening at a dairy company in the Bronx; it was right near the railroad tracks, because the farmers would send the milk in those big silver cans onto the railroad cars and they would unload it right there by the horse barn, by the dairy. I remember that morning as if it were yesterday. It was winter, all these young men, unemployed, on line for one job. Unemployment is the worst disease in the world for someone who has been a bread earner and a wage earner. It kills the spirit. My father said to me, "If you see Mr. Shushen, Mr. Silverman, Mr. Karpen, don’t say hello." I said, "why? They’re neighbors!" He said, "Don’t say hello…these men are shamed. Don’t recognize them. Don’t say anything." All of them stood with their heads down in the freezing weather. They had a big can - an ashcan. They had a fire going, and they’d get off the line, they’d warm up and they’d go back on the line. They were in line, I think it was from three in the morning until the gates opened at seven. Outside, in the New York winter. They did a lot of leaving the lines and warming up. Each man was interviewed by the Straw boss. The Straw boss was a gentleman that I remember had a visor; he had long, striped shirtsleeves and ladies’ garters around his arms and a heavy jacket over it.

The horses were downstairs, breathing heavy and breathing steam; up the steep ladder, you would go up to the offices. Downstairs was one pot belly stove. I remember climbing the steps with my father…I was only four or five. The steps had open risers. It was frightening. I could slide through that, that’s how small I was, and he sat me on a bench while he was interviewed. Every man interviewed was asked this question, one question. You come to work, your horse is coughing…what do you do? Well, then call the vet, call the Straw boss, get another horse…But my father was raised in the old country, on a farm, and he knew horses and he knew all kinds of sicknesses and he said he would go out into the morning mist, providing its springtime, and he would pick clover from the fields. Red clover; the morning dew would soothe the itch of the throat; the red clover would be medicinal. Mix all that with a little turpentine and some flax seed and make a coarse syrup. And the man said, "Hire Mr.Cohen." He was hired on the spot, after all those men.

So the first week, we were in ecstasy. The milk was in cans and you would scoop it out and sell it. The horse knew where to go…my father didn’t know which house, but the horse would know where to stop. He was going there for years! The women would come down with containers, and he would sell them the milk. The advantage was (as the wagons were not refrigerated,) you didn’t bring the eggs or the milk back to the dairy, you could take the remainder home, which was a definite perk. For the first week, we were on cloud nine. My father was making fourteen dollars a week, we had eggs and we had milk. It was glorious. But, my father was a great humanitarian, and the first day he was told all horses, at lunch time, go to West Farms Road, where there’s a small park, Gladstone Park, and a trough. Under the wagon was a bag of oats…a big leather bag with the ropes, and oats cost twenty-five cents. You’d pay for that. You’d pay for your horse’s food. All the milkmen brought out their brown bag lunch. Papa would have Russian black bread , a big Bermuda onion and carried water. He was a very religious Jew. In the Bible it says you feed the animal first, so without thinking, he took the bit out of the horse’s mouth, let it hang, and then he took the bag of oats with the rope and tied it behind the horse's ears, and he lifted the bag of oats onto his knee to help the horse eat. He was always thinking of the horse’s comfort, that he wouldn’t have to dig down too far to eat. And he’s eating and all the milkmen started shouting at him," Mr. Cohen, you broke the law. You broke the law, you’re in trouble, you’re going to lose your job , we’re reporting you". He said, "What for?" "The ordinance of the city . You never remove the bit from a horse’s mouth. He might bite someone." He said, "How can he bite someone with a big bag of oats on his mouth and I’m right here?" "That’s the ordinance. You’re in trouble." And they reported him. So he said to them, "Whose law?" They said, "the law of the city." He said "Well, I go by God’s law, and I’m letting the bit hang. He’s not going to have to eat with that piece of iron banging against his teeth."

He went home and told my mother what happened, and she said, "you just got the job… we’re eating food. The children are eating, the cats are getting milk, the dogs are eating. Why did you have to do this? For the lousy horse?" He said, "Because it’s a creature and I’m responsible and I will not make him eat with that horseshoe in his mouth!" Well, the next morning I went again with him back to work; he took me with him everywhere. We were really frightened…he was getting fired. The second worst sin in the world. Unemployment and getting fired; whichever comes first. We went up the steep steps and the Straw boss was waiting, and the head man was sitting by his desk. He didn’t say too much, and the Straw boss called out the complaint, that he took the bit out of the horse’s mouth, that he broke the city ordinance and he’s just going to have to be dismissed. Then, finally, the gentleman who owned the whole business asked him, "Why did you jeopardize your job… why did you do this?" And my father - a Jewish man, said to him - a Christian gentleman, "Are you religious? Do you believe in God, in the Bible?" He said, "Yes." "You know what it says in Deuteronomy?" And he gave him chapter and verse. "Do not muzzle the ox when he treads the grain. That is a cardinal sin."

And the boss just sat back and looked at him. He didn’t even say a word to him. He turned to the Straw boss and he said, "Take a note: 'From this day forward, all the horses of this company are to be returned to the barn at lunch time to be fed, and the bit is to be taken from their mouth'." That was my father. Daniel Morris Cohen. His instrument flows through my body, and that’s where my whole heritage comes from. I’m fortunate enough to have married Norman Fertig, who is a humanitarian and kind and patient, and he’s been there for me all these years. Fifty-two years.

online: Fifty-two years you’ve been together?

Mrs. Fertig: I went after him. I set my cap for him, as the expression goes.

online: He must be patient. I’m also married to a rehabber!

Mrs. Fertig: It is another nation. Another life. You do get caught up in it. He’s a retired psychologist. When he retired, our son Lance gave him a banjo because he wants to sit on the front porch, he wants to dig a moat, put alligators in the moat so that nobody bothers us, and play his banjo. Well, we’ve got the moat, but we don’t have the alligators.

online: What happened next?

Mrs. Fertig: Well, we lived on Kelly Street, where General Colin Powell was born. So there are two famous people born on Kelly Street! We were there throughout the depression.

Getting the animals adopted, now there was a scenario. A scheme, a sting, a shenanigan. It’s the depression. Who is going to adopt a dog? Who is going to take in a cat? No one! So you have to make them want a cat. So papa would sit me down at the table on Sunday when we were having our bagels and our cheese and if we’re rich we have lox. And he said, "we’re going to have a play today"… he loved plays. "This is a little part that you’re going to say, and then I’ll do the rest. I also want you to use expressions. Now, we’re going to go into a bakery, and we’re going to take one of the big, big cats. The ones that look like Morris. A big mouser. We’re going to name him Mouser. We’ll go into the bakery and you’re going to say something, a question, because I never want to teach you to be a liar or to be dishonest. You just point to the corner of the counter and say 'Papa, is that a mouse?' That’s all you say. You don’t say there is a mouse… that’s a lie. You’re asking me, 'Papa, is that a mouse?' " I said "Then what happens?" and he said, "Then, the women, God bless them, will do the rest." I said "Anything else?" He said "When I nod my head, you hold the cat a little closer, and when I wink, I want you to quiver your bottom lip like you’re going to cry. Rehearse." I rehearsed. Now I’ve got it, so we go to the bakery.

The cat is gorgeous, and he looks like he’s a real great hunter. He, papa, pulls it in a wagon until we get to the bakery. Then, it goes into my arms. My pet - I just met him this morning! My life-long friend. We go into the bakery, and the women are all there getting their rolls and their cakes and their crullers and the bagels. They also sold eggs in the commission bakery during the depression. The people in the bakery didn’t own it. They were poor people who worked for someone, so it was called a commission bakery. Whatever they sold, they made a commission on. They were in charge of selling, cleaning, purchasing and waiting on the customers. And then papa nods. I’m five years old, and I go "Papa… is that a mouse?" And immediately the women: "Here! There it goes! Here’s another one over here." When they were finished, I think there were thirty mice running! The women are screaming and they’re carrying on… I look at my father, and he goes like this (gestures), hold the cat tight. Hold the cat.

The owner says "What? We don’t have mice!" "What do you mean, you don’t have mice, look, there goes another one." screaming "What’s the matter with you, you don’t have a cat?" "Well, who needed a cat?" "What do you mean, who needed a cat… look at that cat. I bet that one’s a good killer." My father said "It’s her pet. It’s her Mouser. It’s a real, real hunter." So the woman says, "Mr. Cohen, you want to sell him?" Then he nods, I hug the cat…that’s the signal…horror on my face, real horror. And he says "Sell… an animal? You don’t sell animals!" And she says "Well, what can I do for you?" The women are all backing away from the counter. The mice are on the bread, they’re on the rolls, they’re falling through the holes in the bagels. They’re all over the place. She says "What would you like?" He says, "Well, I’ll trade. I’ll take some black bread and some crullers, some bagels, some knishes, a couple of eggs"… but he has to see if Eve wants to give up her pet. The woman says to me "Little girl, I’ll give you a chocolate brownie for the cat." Now he gives me the signal to quiver. The bottom lip starts to shake. The deep breath. Papa says "They really need the mouser." So very slowly, shaking, quivering, I hand him my cat. She gives me a hug. "You’re a good, brave girl." We go out, and we have a nice breakfast.

online: How many times did you manage to pull that one?

Mrs. Fertig: Every week. Not the same bakery, you understand. A lot of bakeries in the Bronx. For the dogs, you find out during the week who got robbed, who got vandalized. Junk yards, jewelry shops, any store. Butcher shops. Butcher’s best for a dog! We’d go around…we’d have a dog, also, that we’d wash, give him a good shampoo , and brush the fur against the grain so he looks like he’s real ferocious, a real junkyard guard dog. We’d just happen to pass by some Sunday morning. Sunday’s the best time. "Hello, Mr. Suschen, I heard you had a robbery - poor man. What did they take?" And he said " Well, those kids, they’re always breaking in." Pop said "Hmm... I don’t have any trouble in my house. This is a war dog. I’m taking care of it. It was trained to guard the depot of the Quartermaster's Corps… he’s something! Nothing went near the army with this dog in the yard". "Oh?" (And this is the time for me to pet my dog… quivering lip.) We would trade, and we’d get parts of cars, tires, inner tubes that were nice for swimming & tools. We’d trade. No money. The dog would have a terrific home, and we got them placed.

After a while, the neighborhood started talking "You know, if you need a good cat, go to Mr. Cohen. If you need a real guard dog, Mr. Cohen had them." And we’d place them. Sometimes, we had a lot of dogs in the house, under the stove, but we found them homes. So I guess it’s a form of rehabilitation… I call it recycling.

This was my teacher. He taught me everything. He was a marvelous man. He taught me to walk, climb, ride a rented bicycle. Nobody owns a bicycle in the Bronx... and you have one hour to learn to ride. You’d better learn, because that’s a quarter, and that’s a lot of money."

online: When did you begin to work with wildlife?

Mrs. Fertig: Well, in the Bronx my father had not only pigeons, dogs and cats, but any wildlife that was injured was brought to him. It started when I was two or three years old. Then, we moved to a place called North Brother Island, which is another story in itself… that was an island in the middle of the East River where returning veterans from World War II were allowed to live, providing they were going back to college full-time and were married. If you had a baby, you definitely got a two-room apartment there. Now that island was called North Brother. Next to the island was another island called South Brother, inhabited only by wildlife. If the wildlife had some kind of accident or was injured in some way, the Coast Guard would pick the animal up and find me… I worked mostly with water birds. I was busy rehabbing until it became the practice. That was back in the Forties.

online: Were you still in the Bronx when you started your centre?

Mrs. Fertig: No. My husband was offered a wonderful position in Buffalo. Leaving the Bronx was the most traumatic period of my life. I was an old married lady, in my thirties by that time. We had our daughter, who was just entering junior high, and our son, who was entering kindergarten. All my family lived around the block, his family lived in the East Bronx … we were going to - I thought - the Siberia of the north, where we knew no one. We were so green… my mother and father said, "This is the frontier… they probably don’t have any stores, so buy your stove and your refrigerator in the Bronx, from Sears." They didn’t think there were stores up here. What was that - in 1956. It was the frontier… the wild, wild frontier. So we came with the moving van, the children, the dog, the refrigerator, the stove, Marilyn the turtle. It was like a prairie schooner.

It took a while before I really got used to it, because a place without a friend, without a relative after you’re surrounded by cousins by the dozen… it was very traumatic. We worked in Buffalo. I worked at the University of Buffalo, and he was the founder of the Niagara Frontier Vocational Rehabilitation Centre Incorporated. He rehabilitated human beings… human life, and I was interested in rehabilitating animal life, so when I retired, we were living in the first home of our very own, a darling little cape, and he saw that I’m staying home and I’m not really happy. I was happy working with my college students… you may have noticed, I love young people. They sort of gravitate to me. He said, "What you need is something you always wanted to do." You see, when we married, we made a deal. His dream was to go through college and become what he wanted to be, and by the time he graduated it was Terri’s turn to go through college and then when she graduated it was my son’s turn. I helped with their suppressed desires and their dreams, so I always say to my family who ask me how are the children, I say, "my daughter the doctor or my son the lawyer?" When my husband asked me what do you want to do, I said I always wanted to live in the woods and take care of animals. We were 57, and it’s quite a sacrifice to get another mortgage… we were still paying for the first one.

We were going to do it, and I found our dream house… I found it by an ad in the newspaper. We drove five realtors to suicide, because I tried to explain I wanted woods and a house on one level because we were getting on in years. They would take me to a handyman’s special with an outhouse in the back. I told them they were close… the woods are here. Or she’d take me to Paradise Drive… two trees on the front lawn and a house that was the Taj Mahal. That was not what I was looking for. A comfortable ranch with a fireplace… and woods. After four years, I open up the Sunday paper and I see an ad that I know was put there just for me… God wrote the ad. "Attention, animal lovers." Now, my son’s name is Lance Alden Fertig. Where was this paradise? Alden, New York. You know, it was a sign there. I said to Norman, "let’s go look at this place… it’s a ranch, surrounded by woods". He said, "No, we’ve been looking for four years… you go." I said "all right, I’ll go", and I went there with the last realtor that didn’t kill herself… she was still working for us. It must have been November… winter. Beautiful ranch. Big, sprawling, gorgeous ranch. And woods. Woods… old growth trees, a big creek in the back. I said, this is it.

online: How far is it from Buffalo to Alden?

Mrs. Fertig: 22 miles. It was Sunday, and this Jewish girl drives into Alden and all the church bells are ringing like they’re expecting me! I said, this is it… this has to be it. Then, we looked at the price. Oh boy… forget it. But I wanted to look anyway. I knock on the door and the lovely family lets me in. This was not the kind of ranch we wanted… we wanted a plain ranch. This was gorgeous; this was a luxury home with a fireplace, four bedrooms, a living room, a dining room with a chandelier, and the bathroom had fixtures from Paris. Azure blue. A Jacuzzi. Lovely lamps hanging down. Oh boy. I would have been happy with an out house, to tell you the truth. We sat down, and the gentleman said, "Are you interested?" I said, "I’d love it, but I want to be honest… I can’t possibly meet your price, and it’s worth it". He said "Well, let’s talk about it."

He had a fantastic sense of humor. He said, "We may be able to go back and forth because of the sinkhole in the back." I said, "Oh, like the one in Florida where all the cars and houses disappear?" He said, "Well, it’s not that big yet." His wife said, "Jim, now stop that." He said, "Let me show you the sinkhole," and he takes me to the back. What was back there? A swimming pool. In-ground swimming pool, heated. When he pulled back the cover, I thought now I know why he’s asking that much! I said, "I don’t want to waste your time." He said, "Why are you buying this place, how many children do you have… it’s four bedrooms?" I said, "They’re all grown up, my daughter the doctor, my son the lawyer. What I would like to do with this place is make a sanctuary." Now, he was a member of NRA and he was an avid hunter, and he had a big deer head on the living room wall. I said, "I have no problem with hunters… you’re consumers and I have no quarrel with anyone if we all work together. My motto: 'Join abilities, don’t create hostilities'." He said, "I like that, and I like what you’re going to do. Make me an offer." I looked at him and I said, "Give me a piece of paper and a pencil." I wrote down what I could afford, which was ridiculous, and I stuck it in his pocket and I said, "don’t look". I grabbed the realtor and I ran out of there like a bat out of Hades, got into the car and left. That must have been around five in the afternoon.

At seven o’clock, the phone rings. "Eve?" "Yes". "It’s yours!" I said, "Jim, look at the paper… unfold it". He said, "I did." I said, "Turn it around… you’ve got the numbers wrong." He said, "No, the numbers are right." I said, "we’ll be right back." I grabbed Norman. I couldn’t believe it; I was just thunderstruck. We got to the place. The realtor took her husband to see whether the man was insane or I didn’t write the price right. There had to be a misunderstanding. We came in, and he said, "I want you to have it, because to tell you the truth, I bought a motel and a restaurant." For four years, he’s been paying two mortgages. He had to get rid of one of them. I said "are you sure the price is what you want?" He said, "that’s right." I said, "Can we show Norman the sinkhole?" He said, "Sure" (with a wink.) Norman said, "Sinkhole"? I said, "It’s a little one". He said, "Get out of here." I said, "No, it’s a little sinkhole and Jim said I could fill it with sand." Norman’s talking through his teeth now… "What’s the matter with you… did you sign anything… wait ‘til Lance finds out what you did!" We went into the back… he picked up the cover of the pool and he said "Oh my God! It’s beautiful!" I couldn’t believe I was this fortunate. God was my realtor.

online: And that’s where you are today?

Mrs. Fertig: That’s where we are today. It’s been twenty years now. The Enchanted Forest Wildlife Sanctuary. We improved on the property by siding the house, because at our age, we can’t climb up and down and paint. We added a front vestibule, and back deck, and we’re now almost finished with my birdhouse aviary. It’s heated…it’s a hospital for permanently injured birds that are all in our family room and our kitchen right now. It’s a dream come true.

online: How many animals would you have?

Mrs. Fertig: Right now the kitchen and family room has Gordie the loquacious raven, Buddy the "shoot on sight" crow (he was supposed to be killed because he landed on someone’s shoulder, he’s tame and he only has one eye). On the other side of the room are two American kestrels, male and female. The male is beautiful, gentle and he is in love with the female. The female must have been told to "get thee to a nunnery", because she doesn’t like males at all. Then you go into the kitchen, and over here we have a mocking bird that had an injured leg that we set and is doing beautifully. Next to the mocking bird is a beautiful mourning dove. Next to the dove we have a house finch with a permanently disabled wing. Next to the house finch are purple finches that were burned… second degree burns. Then we have Steve. Let Norman tell you about Steve.

Dr. Fertig: Steve is a Senegal parrot. Steve was left on our porch about five years ago, in a box, and on the box it said "His name his Steve. He likes pasta, and he bites." It’s all true… he bites. Apparently, he was an illegal bird, and they just wanted to get rid of him. He doesn’t talk, he screeches a lot and he bites, but he’ll eat almost anything.

Mrs. Fertig: Next to him is a grackle who took a bad beating from a cat… he lost everything… tail feathers, everything, but he recovered. Outside in the mouse house, we have our breeding mice, our feeders, and we have a family, of course, of homing pigeons. How could I possibly not have homing pigeons? In between, we have a large exercise aviary for injured birds that we can rehabilitate…hawks and owls, sea gulls. I’m a G.P…a general practitioner, and I take whatever they bring me. Of course, rabbits…

online: How many animals go through your place?

Mrs. Fertig: Over a whole year, over a hundred I think. And phone calls, a thousand. Visitors come regularly. I teach at three colleges. My dream is, when I do retire, like Johnny Appleseed, to leave seedling rehabbers all over New York State.

online: And you’ve trained quite a few?

Mrs. Fertig: About two hundred, so far. They are specialists, you see. They are not G.P.s. A majority do specialize: one in mammals, we have one that just does bears and another that just does raptors… reptiles. What I do, I bring my college classes to these newly established sanctuaries, to give them the reality of what being a rehabber means. Especially the out-of-pocket reality, because, as you know, no one funds us. I sing for their suppers. I teach, and everything I earn goes into the Enchanted Forest.

online: Where do you teach?

Mrs. Fertig: I teach at Trocaire College. The course is called 'Saving Endangered Species and Caring For Injured and Orphaned Wildlife,' and I teach the same course at Niagara Community. I teach children, six to sixteen, about what to do if you find an injured bird or animal and I take them out to a mustang ranch every summer. There are two of them in western New York. I teach them about my "adopt a horse" program. I work with the Bureau of Land Management, and we bring in horses every year. They used to bring them to New York State, but the budget didn’t allow that anymore, so now they bring a hundred horses to the New England States, and I try to line up people all year round to adopt a horse. I work with everyone. The Buffalo Museum of Science has me lecture on one subject. I was just there in September, on saving endangered species, but I lecture on whales, wolves, wild mustangs and anything that’s endangered.

I never had ego with my wildlife. I wouldn’t have a wolf and take a walk down the road with it… I’m not there to show off. I’m not there to run a roadside zoo or a circus. That’s not what I’m here for. Rehabbers are to help them to get back to the wild, with as little fanfare as is possible.

We have this wonderful adventure together, and we’re going to continue for a while longer. Norman’s talking about retirement, and I told him the sanctuary can only be sold to someone else who is either a wildlife rehabber or a veterinarian, or an organization interested in the protection and preservation of wildlife and habitat. Lovers of Nature are most welcome!

online: Maybe it’s time for me to move from Manitoba to New York State!

Mrs. Fertig: Oh, have I got a place for you!

online: What about the sinkhole, though?

Mrs. Fertig: (laughing) It’s filled with water. But it’s beautiful. We don’t go away on vacations. This is the first time we’ve been away together in ten years. Norm stayed and took care of the store, so to speak. Our children are out of state. He’s going to visit Terry next week for Thanksgiving. When he comes back, I’ll go and visit Lance for Hanukkah. You see - not together. He wants us to retire in five years.

Dr. Fertig: (laughing) Two years!

Mrs. Fertig: Two years? No, I can’t in two years… I’m not ready. If you know anybody that wants to buy a sanctuary already made - a beautiful home, the grounds… we own ten acres, and we’re surrounded by one hundred of beautiful forest. We would be very generous, providing they don’t strip the forest and continue that kind of work. I can go to my heavenly reward happy because I know the animals would be cared for. My "walking wounded" are still living in the forest. We see them in the winter. They come close… we put out the food for them. You can’t destroy that forest… it’s their last habitat.

I’d interview very carefully… I’d want to know what your father does. I’m serious. The Enchanted Forest is available in five years. Two years? Either way, I invite you to come down… you’d love it. I have scouts coming in, working for their Eagle badge. They blazed a trail through the forest; it goes in a circular path, so you can see the birds and the animals that were released. It’s beautiful and peaceful back there. You don’t see civilization, you don’t see a house… you just see green mansions… that’s what I call it. The boy scouts are now making a trail for the blind. It’s what they call a Braille Trail. They are putting signs up that are in Braille, so they can identify the trees, and wherever there might be a bird nesting there will be signs put up. We have young people from the colleges come in for the unpoetic work, like cleaning the mouse house. That’s heavy work… that’s hard work, taking out those aquariums, cleaning and transferring the mice.

They also have wild mice that live behind the panels of the mouse house, and I tell them, don’t let them get away… they’re a dollar fifty each. We try to get the schools involved. They come out, we have classes. As I said, I’m not a roadside zoo. I’m an institution of higher learning. When we have people there, first I screen them. I let them know they don’t run around, they don’t put their fingers in cages, they don’t distress the animals. They get the lecture first, and when they are totally informed, we walk them through. They love it, and I love it. This is the next generation. This is their last stand. We have to help them. They won’t survive on their own.

online: Perhaps, with more people like you, we can achieve that.

Mrs. Fertig: I hope so. I enjoy young people… I call them wild innocents. Like the animals, they’re wild innocents, and they are pure. They really want to help.

December 15/96 telephone interview: In order to clarify a few points, Astrid and Joe MacLeod phoned the Fertigs (Manitoba is a long way from Alden, New York!) for the answers to a few more questions. It turned into quite a conversation! It began with an update on the new "dream house" aviary mentioned above.

Mrs. Fertig: We're building our Dream House. It's a birdhouse/rehabilitation hospital. It's not the Mayo clinic - it's a MASH unit! It's 9 feet tall, 26 feet wide. It's heated, has electricity and each bird has it's own outside aviary, attached like a building. We're putting in shelves now - we build as we can afford. The building - the outside - is finished and insulated. Now we're saving up for the paneling walls. The floor is in, but we have to cover it with something that can take a hosing down with disinfectant every day. And we have the frames up for the outside aviaries. Each frame will have a window that opens so they can go outside and fly all day long, and at night they can come inside. I hope by summer we'll have it. This room (the living room) will be stripped of all cages and I'm buying Norman a couch!

online: And it will become a living room again?

Mrs. Fertig: It will become a family room again. And the the couch will have that recliner where the feet go up, and a television, and a whole entertainment center. He's waited 20 years for this!

online: In your earliest years as a rehabber, before the Enchanted Forest became a reality, did you have to learn mostly through trial and error?

Mrs. Fertig: We mostly flew by the seat of our pants. Trial and error. Fortunately, I had the experience from my father, so I wasn’t really just working in the dark. Learning from my father and later on attending courses at the DEC office: all kinds of trauma courses, and then what we had at the IWRC Conference - and earlier formal training. I worked with a vet for three years and I learned the formalities, and the different medications… most of the remedies I had used previously were home remedies.

online: What have animals taught you? What have you learned from just observing and working with the animals?

Mrs. Fertig: I call them the Wild Innocents. There’s no guile or spite or revenge with them… human nature has those qualities, not the animals. They are pure and sincere, and they’re innocent. You can’t accuse them of a crime because of a wolf taking a lamb. He’s not committing a crime… he’s just surviving in his own natural way. He doesn’t dislike the lamb, he has no anger toward it. It’s just his desire to survive. Human beings - when humans kill it’s not only to survive. Personal feelings play a large part, and the politics and idealism of the time.

online: What does "wild" mean to you?

Mrs. Fertig: Pure and innocent.

online: Here’s a whimsical question: which animal would you most relate to?

Mrs. Fertig: (after a pause) A wolf. They seem to epitomize intelligence, integrity, devotion… you know, they mate for life. They are a nation apart. They say that the lion is the king of the jungle - well, the wolf is the king of the forest. And if the wolf eats, the forest eats. If the wolf starves, the forest starves. He is like the guardian of the forest. I feel a kinship with him. Many of our Jewish people have been maligned and misunderstood and, well, mistreated. There’s your wolf: maligned, misunderstood and mistreated. I see him as a Jewish person. That’s how I look at him, because he’s gone through what we’ve gone through.

online: You started rehabbing when there were few resources and very little written information. Now there is literature, and groups such as IWRC and NWRA.

Mrs. Fertig: There were never books thirty years ago. The only books I ever got were the ones written by the veterinarians from Cornell. That’s too advanced for most of us - even the language was too advanced. We have rehab manuals coming out now, for we ordinary people!

online: Sharing information and education is vital to rehabbers.

Mrs. Fertig: Right. What I’m doing now, at our Alden Environmental Conservation Commission, we established a research/resource library in the Town Hall. We did win the New York State prize - because there’s no resource/research library in any Town Hall, as far as we know, in New York State. And this one is accessible to all the citizens of Alden, to all the students of the high school that used to come to me to write their term papers, or have questions on endangered species. Even the teachers came here, the faculty, because I have this terrific library. So I decided that instead of my staying home around the clock and having fourteen kids in the basement, four in the kitchen, three in the dining room - and "Where’s your book on manatees?" and "Where’s your book on insects?" I said "Now, wait a minute! Take the books, the kids and the people, and go over to the Town Hall, and we will set up a library there."

They gave us a long L-shaped room, in the back of our conference room. I called up all the fiends I knew at the newspapers, and they were wonderful… the Buffalo News gave us all kinds of books, new hard-covered books on the environment, pollution, acid rain, the warming cycle - everything! All free. Other people donated more, and we built our own bookcases. I wrote it all up and we sent it in to the New York Council of Conservation Commission. We won the state prize for the year. Our librarian went down there and picked up our beautiful prize. It’s something we can share with everyone and we have things like "Rehabilitation Today" - all the back issues, they’re all there on the shelves. So the students are really doing marvelous work.

online: What makes a good rehabber?

Mrs. Fertig: Dedication, devotion, compassion, and I would say modesty. What I’m noticing with so many of the rehabbers (not my students!) is that they’re giving in to this feeling of power. You’ve got to watch out: absolute power corrupts absolutely!

online: Do you feel this is a growing problem in rehab?

Mrs. Fertig: It’s getting bigger. Now, I understand, there’s a movement about to make rehabbing a "profession," and I don’t think the veterinarians will be very thrilled with this! Unfortunately, I think it’s more than credibility they want… I think it’s cash. We won’t have the hard work and the camaraderie and the helpfulness that we have now. We’re all in the same boat! My motto has always been 'Join abilities, don’t create hostilities.' I’ve had rehabbers call me for help who are afraid to give me their names. They’ve made an innocent mistake and they’re afraid I’m going to turn them in. Then they call back around midnight because the animal is dying. All because I might turn them in! They’re working off fear - that’s never happened before. I’ve been in this thirty years, and we’ve always called each other and helped each other. After I assure them that I turn people on to rehabilitation, I do not turn people in! Then I've made a friend for life.

online: If you could pass on one message, one thought to those who read this article, what would it be?

Mrs. Fertig: To be a rehabber, you have to be an idealist and a realist at the same time. Ideally, you have to feel a certain empathy and a certain compassion for all wildlife, and respect for them - they belong to this world, too… they’re part of this universe. I also think you need reality to know that it’s going to take someone who is gainfully employed, or who has a wonderful partner who is gainfully employed. It does involve a great deal of out-of-pocket expense, because you have to be able to pay for this "hobby," because that’s what it is. A hobby that you love doing and something that’s your choice, and you can be as limited as you wish, or go as far as you wish. Some people feel that they have to have a hundred pages to their logs. I don’t go by quantity, I go by quality. If you just have one cage and you save most of them, or you euthanize them mercifully, then you’ve done a good job. There’s no contest in rehabbing… we’ve got to stop the contests, and we’ve got to stop the jealousies and the power plays. We have to be good human beings! We have to be caretakers who care.

Editors' Note: Just prior to publication, Mrs. Fertig sent Astrid and me a very nice letter. She wanted to tell us about that outside aviary she'd dreamed about for so long - it was already complete and should be ready for occupancy before mid-summer. She added one last thought (Note that Mrs. Fertig refers to G-d. She explains: "Religious Jews never write all the letters in the name G-d, for if you write all the letters of His name it can never be erased or destroyed, and who can be sure the name will be protected?")

Mrs. Fertig: I have a personal motto, and a personal message; words of wisdom written by an honored author - Henry Ward Beecher. He wrote:

We are always in the forge or on the anvil. By trials, G-d is shaping us for higher things.

My past life experiences have been in the forge, and Wildlife Rehabilitation has been my anvil. G-d has been my "smithie" and I humbly trot the path He has chosen for me...