THE GREAT ANIMAL RESCUE
Veterinarian Dr. Sam Young recounts his experience working alongside his family, fellow faculty members, and students to extract the patients and ambassadors from the rehabilitation center after Hurricane Helene.
What a crazy year. Deciding where to start is a difficult task. You will hear in this newsletter some incredible stats; this has been our biggest year to date, patient- and student-wise. We have welcomed an incredible new veterinarian who hit the ground running and has not let up. We have had some really cool cases, successfully rebooted the Wildlife Medicine Symposium, and bridged some new relationships with North Carolina State’s College of Veterinary Medicine. But probably the biggest happening this year was quite unexpected and impossible to plan for…of course I am talking about Helene.
New-ish to living in the mountains, but a lifelong lover and visitor, I was not particularly concerned upon hearing Helene might come up through western North Carolina in late September. I thought, “We are in the mountains, the mountains block the storm winds, yeah we’ll get some rain, the rivers will run a little high and turn brown, maybe some wind….” Well, the rest is history.
I woke up multiple times Thursday (9/26) night to the power flickering and some heavy rain. The fire alarm system had to be reset and the Wi-Fi back-up battery had to be encouraged…too many beeps. My son had also recently gotten a new bed and side table with rainbow LED lights that flickered on in a disco light show every time the power came back on…quite distracting through our open bedroom doors. As the alarm went off in the morning, it quickly became obvious this was not just another “bad” storm, but something I had not witnessed since Hugo came through the North Carolina Piedmont in ’89.
Power lines, trees…so many power lines and trees, down on the ground. Power and Wi-Fi were out and cell service, while present for about an hour, was soon gone as well. Pretty crazy in this day and age to be completely unable to reach anyone. My family and I waited until the storm stopped to venture out, probably around noon. What we found was even worse than what could be visualized from our apartment, namely the flood damage from an angry Elk River and its tributaries.
Students were out and about as well, all walking in a zombie-like fashion, shell-shocked at what looked like a warzone. As the closest to MWRC, and presuming likely travel complications for the other staff, we (my wife Jess, son Oliver, and I) first headed to MWRC to see if it was still standing. Only about 0.8 miles from Mill Pond Rd, it did not take long to find out we would not be driving to the center as flood waters had only recently receded and many down and broken powerlines and poles blocked our path. The journey would have to continue on foot.
Rounding the final bend before the Mill Pond Dam, we were met with two familiar faces, Jedda Levy and Lea Torp, two rockstar students that have spent ample time at the wildlife center and in some of my classes. Along with the familiar faces came one of the more traumatic views of nature’s destructive abilities—the complete desolation of Mill Pond Road past the dam.
Almost unrecognizable in the photo above, the road is part of the river and where the gravel normally started, there is an 8-10' drop off. Powerlines, trees, and sewer pipes strewn about, as if discarded playthings. There would be no walking in this way either. From this vantage, the true fate of the center was seeming a lot more grim.
A plan was quickly hatched, with much debate about safety and liability, for Lea, Jedda, and me to hike in by way of Hemlock Trail, starting on South Campus. We would check on the center and animals, then reconvene to make a plan to get them out…if they were still there.
After some long hugs and reassurances to the family, Lea, Jedda, and I headed off on foot down Hemlock Trail. We were very quickly met with an abundance of downed trees on the trail that required a certain amount of acrobatics to scale or maneuver around. After realizing the main exit of the trail just below the dam was impassable due to the proximity of downed powerlines and still rushing water, we rerouted several times in attempts to get back to the road a little farther down.
Throughout these reroutes over and around a soggy Hemlock Hill, both Lea and Jedda maintained incredible positivity and perseverance. To the right, Jedda can be seen maneuvering through the tangle of rhododendron in pursuit of a tangible path.
The map below shows our various re-routes and the route we eventually took to get to the center.
Once back on Mill Pond Road, which was somewhat intact below the center, we started hiking back up.Along the way, the Elk River was still raging to our left, well out of its normal banks, but luckily well below the level of the road. It was while on this section that we came across a lone and very shaken-up pekin duck (later named Fred). He had been observed days before on Mill Pond intermingling with the other wild and abandoned domestic waterfowl that call Banner Elk home. The overwhelming current must have swept him down river. How he survived, seemingly unscathed, is still a mystery. Regardless, we easily caught him and continued on to MWRC.
As we approached the center from below, we were met with yet more indiscernible landscapes, standing and running water, fallen trees, debris and recognizable but displaced items—a student’s car, the center dumpster, park benches, random lumber strewn about precariously clinging to anything that was able to withstand the force of the water.
The view below, though somewhat foreign, gave us our first glimmer of hope the center was still there as the beehives and backsides of the raptor flight cages could be observed and appeared intact on their high ground, the same high ground the center resides on.
We traversed yet more murky moving water and scaled the hill behind the center and were pleased to find a mostly undisturbed MWRC. It was clear that water had come up to the front door and there was some minor invasion into the lobby and the classroom, but otherwise no major structural damages. The ambassador animals were visibly shaken up by the ordeal they had been witness to in their front yard only hours before, but otherwise unscathed. Before entering, Jedda snapped the image of me holding Fred that would be shared via social media to let others know the center was still standing. Debris strewn about the parking lot, a river for a road, but a standing center. Upon entering the center proper all animals were accounted for and appeared to be in good health. What was initially going to be just a scouting mission turned into a hurried feed and tidy for the roughly 35 patients and 15 ambassadors. Fred was set up for the night with food and water after a quick once over health check. With no communications and a longer trek to the center than originally expected, I knew the family would really be starting to worry.
We hiked up Mill Pond Road to see if an easier exit could be found from this direction, and we were indeed able to rock hop, dodging powerlines and climbing over multiple downed trees to get back on Hemlock Trail. Above are the view of what had been Mill Pond Road below the level of the dam and the entrance to Hemlock Trail. That afternoon and night, communications were established with Kelli Johnson, one of the MWRC wildlife rehabilitators, via a landline phone that for whatever reason happened to still work in Bowman, the science building on main campus. She had spoken directly with or heard indirectly from other sources that the other center staff were safe but unable to get into Banner Elk proper due to major road washouts or blockages. The fate of MWRC and its housed critters was shared in return and a plan for the following day discussed.
Halley Buckanoff, Director of the Valerie H. Schindler Wildlife Rehabilitation Center at the NC Zoo in Asheboro, North Carolina and Jessica Hoffman, VP of Animal Care and Welfare for the Greensboro Science Center in Greensboro, North Carolina, were miraculously reached via this same phone and both agreed, with no hesitation, to take in and keep our animals for an, as yet, unknown period of time, as long as we could get them out. This was an incredible relief and truly heartwarming to hear in the midst of this disaster.
Later that evening, over a shared meal, cooked on our camping stove, with our neighbor and fellow Lees-91探花 faculty from the Theatre Arts department, Nat Davies, a plan was devised to return and hike out any animals that could be released in order to decrease our eventual load once vehicular entry/exit was returned to Banner Elk.
To the right is an image of 184 where Hanging Rock Creek meets Sugar Creek (a tributary of the Elk River). This is one of the major roads in and out of Banner Elk.
That next day we awoke with the sun, downed some coffee, and set out in a borrowed Lees-91探花 van—Jess, Oliver, Nat, and myself, along with Mike Hannah, another Theatre Arts faculty member from Lees-91探花 that lived just up the road from us. We hiked in the same way I had the day before with the students. Upon arrival, we fed and watered all the animals again with now dwindling and soon-to-spoil food supplies. The select few ready-for-release animals were caught up and placed in carriers for the hike. Some Virginia opossums were released on site up in the woods, but the juvenile Eastern cottontails, a great blue heron, and our friend Fred had to be hiked out. Nat, a self-described ”avid waterfowl fan,” having never touched one, was tasked with carrying Fred. Again, in the midst of this terrible disaster, here was another individual stepping up with positivity and perseverance to help. This certainly made her day, if not year. Fred was returned to his adopted flock at another pond adjacent to Mill Pond and the other animals released in respective ideal habitats.
After some further spotty communications out that evening and an early turn in, Jess, Oliver, Nat, and I awoke with another plan, this time to get the remaining 40+ animals out. First though, we needed a route. A temporary fix for 184 was still underway. 194 was still blocked westward into Tennessee and eastward into Watuaga County. Hickory Nut Gap Road to Newland was said to be bad, but this was our last remaining hope.
We all hopped in Nat’s Subaru Forrester with chainsaw, loppers, and a variety of handsaws and headed up away from campus. Some work had already been done with small caves cut through the myriad of downed trees, but the road was far from clear. We lost count of the number of downed powerlines we drove over or had to weigh down and traverse with fallen debris. We encountered one area of complete blockage and set to work with chainsaws. It was incredible—within 10 minutes, we were joined by six other locals sporting chainsaws and the work was completed promptly. After some nods and high-fives, the journey continued. Finally, we came upon an Avery County emergency response vehicle coming from Newland. They said the way was clear from there. We relayed the potential need for shelter and emergency supplies for the remaining Lees-91探花 students and then headed back to campus, now with a route out, albeit not a pretty one, but a route nonetheless.
Upon returning to campus, this information was relayed to President Lee King and campus operations and incident command along with our plan to get the animals out. We also encountered three familiar student faces in Cora Stevens, Ben Huges, and Ben Werner. These three had formed a roving band of tree clearers equipped with a hodgepodge of “borrowed” hand tools. Our need for manpower was expressed and a loose meeting time and place established knowing we would not be able to communicate once we left them. After a hurried but fortifying meal and second cup of coffee our small crew (Jess, Oliver, Nat, and I) set to work on what we knew would be a grueling task.
The van was parked on Mill Pond Road as close to the center as we could get. By this time too, the river was down enough to no longer be flowing over the road at the level of the dam. At the time, this still seemed too steep to climb down, but we could probably lift hand-crated animals up from below. We took a second car back around to the Hemlock Trail head and hiked down as before. We promptly set to catching and boxing up all the ambassador animals: four owls, one crow, two kestrels, one hawk, three songbirds, four snakes, and two turtles. Coolers and totes were also filled with food items that would spoil once the center generator ran out of gas. We then began hiking these crates up to the level of the dam on the remnants of Mill Pond Road and stationed for the next step.
At this point Jess and Oliver took Hemlock Trail back to South Campus to circle back around to the van and the top of the dam. We had not seen the three students since our brief meeting and were starting to get a bit worried. The worry continued when Jess and Oliver did not return in an expected amount of time to start receiving the animals above the dam. This worry and unease was heightened further as Banner Elk had been descended upon by the National Guard. The, at times, deafening thrum of tandem-rotor helicopters above, dropping supplies, searching for people in need, and transporting students and other town evacuees out, added another layer to the warzone anxiety we were feeling. They hovered directly over our operation more than once clearly wondering what we were up to. It was difficult to resist the urge to wave our arms and call them in to help with this task, but knew the human suffering in the surrounding area was their focus and we would have to handle the wildlife on our own.
Once up top, our team of runners, the bikers, Oliver, and Ben W. carried critters to the van along the portions of Mill Pond Road that could not be traversed by the van. Jess was responsible for the animal carrier “Tetris game” of getting all 50-some animals into the van with ambassadors and rehab patients separated, prey and predator species separated, and all carriers having some level of ventilation and secure anchoring. Quite a feat.
Once fully loaded and the center emptied and locked up, we all shared words of gratitude, handshakes and hugs and then went our separate ways. Nat, Jess, Oliver, and I went back to the duplex for a caffeine recharge before the next step.
With coffee refilled and the clock ticking, tearful embraces and “be carefuls” spoken, I headed out in the loaded van. The gap in 184 had been filled in with gravel and aside from some significant ruts and sheer drop-offs on either side, fully passable. 105 towards Linville was closed due to significant areas of road washout so getting to Jonas Ridge and MWRC Director, Nina Fischesser, was out. Still without cell service, I headed toward Boone. Aside from a one lane section and some muddy roads, Boone seemed in much better shape than what I had come from. Just outside of Boone, cell service returned and suddenly I was inundated with 150+ text messages and voicemails. I also got a call from Kelli Johnson. She could take the ambassador herps (reptiles and amphibians) and songbirds and I could drop off the other ambassadors for Nina to come get as there apparently was a clear way to Jonas Ridge from Lenoir. Google Maps was rerouted, and the Greensboro Science Center informed the plan had changed. The VHSWRC at NC Zoo was also contacted. They would be ready to receive all our rehab patients, even at the expected 9:30 p.m. arrival time, with Dr. Megan Cabot on hand to check over the health of all the incoming patients.
After quite a few turnarounds and reroutes due to downed trees and powerlines, I arrived at Kelli’s within about two hours. She was ready to receive, and we quickly unloaded all the ambassadors and rearranged rehab patients to better secure them. Kelli also had a lovely care package ready with hot coffee, a Mountain Dew, and snacks to keep me fueled. After some quick updates I was back on the road, bound for Asheboro.
Those 2–3 hours went by in a blur as I checked in with family and friends concerned about our family’s welfare. When I pulled up to the rehab center at NC Zoo, I couldn’t believe the number of cars in the parking lot this late. I parked and walked up to the entrance where I was met with a team of at least ten excited and chipper volunteers, Halley, and Dr. Cabot. They had the van unloaded in minutes and I quickly ran through the known medical histories of all the animals. Unfortunately, we had lost access to our medical records system, so I had to go based on memory. Luckily, most of these patients were fully stable and simply needed more time to heal or mature. After more hugs and “thank yous” I hopped back in the van for a final leg to Greensboro to spend the night with my folks. Following a fitful night’s sleep, I woke early and headed back to Banner Elk to get the family evacuated.
We ended up spending a month with my folks in Greensboro while the powerlines, water treatment plant, and sewer lines were repaired. Virtual classes for the Lees-91探花 students were instituted a week after the evacuation. After about a month of this, in-person classes resumed. The MWRC unfortunately did not reopen and still remains closed until a new dedicated water line can be run to it and further Mill Pond Road repairs made. In the meantime, Kelli and Tara continue taking phone calls and getting animals where they can get care. Nina is tending to all the ambassador animals in her care and Dr. Miranda Torkelson and I provide medical care to the animals that do get to Banner Elk or Jonas Ridge with our much more limited supplies and resources. We all remain positive and hopeful for a fresh start in 2025.
I cannot express enough the gratitude I feel for all the aid and compassion received over that crazy weekend. So many folks mentioned above sacrificed time, efforts, and their own safety to help make sure these animals got to a safe place. Thank you for reading this account and for your continued support.
The five rockstar Lees-91探花 students (left to right, Cora Stevens, Ben Hughes, Ben Werner, Jedda Levy, Lea Torp) that showed up in the nick of time to help.
By Dr. Sam Young
Program Coordinator for Pre-Veterinary Medicine, Senior Veterinarian, and Assistant Professor of Wildlife Biology