Sheela & Her Friends -- A Recollection
by Anne Miller
After nineteen years in captivity, Sheela the Mountain Lion was released from this world on January 31, 2007. During her long life, she touched and inspired a great many people. Her tragic early history, her exquisite beauty, her affectionate nature, her playful, feline love of mischief—these were some of the reasons she attracted so many friends. In remembering and celebrating Sheela’s long life, it is these friendships that give her life special meaning.
Of her early life, we know only that she was swapped for a gun at a Trade Day in Tennessee, when she was just a few months old. Sheela’s new owner took her to Huntsville, and tied her up in his girlfriend’s back yard. Some time later, a fight with a Doberman Pinscher caused the girlfriend’s father to send the young Cougar to the Huntsville Animal Shelter.
Sheela’s story began for me when I received a call from the Shelter Manager, who was concerned that the young cougar might be dying. She was confined in a dog run, with dogs on all sides of her enclosure. The Animal Shelter was under renovation, and the construction noise was causing additional stress. She refused to eat, and was so weak she could not stand. I explained that our mission was to return releasable wildlife to the wild, and that we could not take custody of a non-releasable Cougar. I asked what he was feeding her, and he said that he had tried to tempt her with every kind of meat, from steak to lamb. I explained that a young Cougar must have a whole animal diet, including every part of the animal, in order to get all of the nutrients needed for development. If offered only muscle meat such as steak, she would inevitably contract Rickets, a serious disease that causes weakening and bending of the bones, and may be fatal. “Oh, she already has Rickets”, he replied, but as a vegetarian, he could not morally bring himself to offer the young cougar the whole animal diet she needed. It was then that I agreed to take custody of the young Mountain Lion. It was her only hope.
The very next day, Sheela’s first friend, David Stephens, drove to Huntsville to get her. David’s job was rescuing wildlife, but we had never sent him on such a mission before. When he arrived back at our facilities at Smyer Lake, he had with him a very sick young Mountain Lion. Still wearing the spots of a kitten, she appeared to be about 5 months old. We named her Sheela, which means ‘rescued’ in the Choctaw Indian language.
We had prepared a 12’ x 12’ enclosure for Sheela, spacious enough for her to get some exercise, but for the first few days, she was too weak to stand. David told me she had been lying in her own urine, and her coat was matted and filthy. I began immediately to feed her a whole animal diet of rabbit, holding her on my lap, and offering her the food by hand. It was amazing how quickly the young cat recovered her strength in her new environment. The wholesome diet gave her energy, and the peaceful, natural setting around her enclosure was reassuring. The young Cougar became playful and affectionate with her friends, but for many years she would become terrified at the sight of any man wearing a cap, and we never knew when she might become frightened of a stranger. We can only guess what it meant to her.
As the young cat regained her strength, we knew that we needed a larger enclosure. We had moved our Headquarters to Oak Mountain State Park about a year earlier, and we were struggling to develop the old Foothills Restaurant building, which had long stood empty, into a wildlife rehabilitation clinic. It was a huge challenge to provide care for this young cougar as well. Volunteers and staff combined to build a new addition to a nearby cage, and Tee Dee Johnson gave us the funds to add a 30-foot run, so Sheela would have plenty of room to exercise. We designed her new quarters to give her the option to hide from visitors, or to stalk them from concealment—her favorite game. We added fresh greens, tall wooden boxes and platforms to climb on, and a sleeping den with a built-in heat lamp. Sheela’s feeding area was wooden-floored, for cleanliness, but her run was the natural forest floor, covered with a thick layer of pinestraw, which could be raked out and replaced every few months.
Sheela’s daily meal was offered in a child’s large blue plastic pool. This was usually deer, rabbit or whole chickens, for throughout her long life we fed her a whole animal diet, with fur, bones, and organ meat. Only the G.I. tract was removed, to prevent bacterial contamination. Sheela always relished her meals, pulling the fur and crunching the bones. Even at the very end of her life, her teeth were in excellent condition thanks to her natural diet. The plastic pool confined the mess, and when she had eaten enough, her caregiver could take the Kiddie Pool out of the enclosure and clean it carefully with soap and water. A typical cat, Sheela enjoyed getting into the plastic pool, sometimes with an energetic pounce.
Each section of Sheela’s enclosure was connected to the others with a drop door that could be raised and lowered from outside the cage by a steel cable. When we needed to service one part of the enclosure, we could confine our powerful and playful friend in a different part of the enclosure. No one ever went in with her, except David Stephens.
For many years, Sheela held court in her enclosure at Smyer Lake, cared for by a succession of devoted friends. Kim Bramlett, Leslie Sanders, Kim Strange, Ann Hendrix, Sherrie Alexander, Carey Jacks, Michelle Bedsole and Donna Cobb each gave her affectionate and thoughtful care. They brought her fresh leafy branches and new toys, and played games of hide and pounce that gave her plenty of exercise. Greg Smith, a long-time Wildlife Center volunteer, often helped care for Sheela when needed, as he lived nearby. Helen Connor, a volunteer at the Wildlife Center, was one of Sheela’s first admirers, and gave her a huge plastic ball that remained a favorite toy for many years. Ned Mudd made a wonderful video about Sheela that documented her early years, while Robin McDonald’s magnificent photos captured her both as a kitten, and in her prime. Another special friend of Sheela’s was Anne Bailey, a neighbor at Smyer Lake.
Initially her quarters at Smyer Lake were intended to be temporary, and we hoped to build a huge enclosure for her at the new Headquarters at Oak Mountain. As the years passed, it became clear that the cost of such an enclosure would be prohibitive, and that the funds we had should be used to build flight cages and exercise pens for releasable wildlife. After a while, it began to seem unfair to Sheela to move her to a public location with her sensitive nature and her traumatic history. By then she had passed the age at which such a radical change would have been bearable.
Then disaster struck, as an infestation of pine beetles killed more than thirty big pine trees in the grove where Sheela’s enclosure was situated. The Wildlife Center’s funds were desperately short, and we could not spare the thousands of dollars needed to have the trees removed. Moreover, Sheela could not stay in her cage while the work was done. David Stephens, her first friend, had a spacious cage available a few miles away in a secluded, wooded valley in North Shelby County. He agreed to give Sheela a home until the trees could be cut and her enclosure, now aging and in need of renovation, could be rebuilt and expanded. Liz and Sarah Robinson, two long-time Wildlife Center volunteers became her caregivers and companions during this period.
It would take two years, and the generosity of David Stephens, Jacque Meyer of the Birmingham Humane Society, Jacque’s sister Jennifer Mathews and their mother, and several other donors, to provide the funds to get the trees cut. Much of the cage renovation was done by volunteers such as Tim Johnson, Keith Feinman, Jeff Waites, and Tim Leopard. By the time they were done, the entire enclosure had not only been renovated, but an extra fifty-foot run and been added, ending in a special hideout where Sheela could conceal herself while enjoying an unrestricted view of the surrounding woods.
Sheela returned to her new enclosure in 2004, when she was sixteen years old. She was still strong and frisky, and she loved her new run, and the hiding place at the far end. For a while she was grouchy, and we could only assume that she missed her devoted friend David, and also resented being trapped in a transport crate for the move. But her new caregivers, Ashley and Tyler Gault, soon made friends with her, and she settled down in familiar surroundings again. The following year, Catherine Britt took over Sheela’s care, later assisted by another Wildlife Center staff member, Melinda Albarado. Thanks to the extreme generosity of Billy and Astrid Smyer, who own the land on which our facilities at Smyer Lake are located, we were able to keep Sheela in her familiar surroundings throughout her long life.
It was only in late summer of 2006 that Sheela finally began to show her age. Her hind legs became weak, and the hot summer weather seemed to cause her extra discomfort. Her last caregiver, Wildlife Center staff member Katie Stubblefield, took over in September, and Sheela did well until mid-January of 2007, when she stopped eating. It soon became obvious that Sheela was failing, possibly due to congestive heart failure. She did not appear to be in great pain, but she sat quietly near the fence, where her friends could scratch her head and chin, and even stroke her back through the fence. Early Wednesday morning, Dr. Chris Campbell of Grayson Valley Pet Clinic drove out to RPF to administer anesthesia, so that Sheela would be unconscious at the very end. Dr. Campbell skillfully administered the anesthesia while Katie, Sandra Allinson and I scratched Sheela’s head and chin. She was still purring as the anesthesia took effect.
This magnificent Mountain Lion always took your breath away when you first caught sight of her. She was immensely powerful, yet lithe and graceful, with a subtle coloring that blended warm, pinkish beige to softest grey behind the ears. Her fur was thick and healthy throughout her life (that good diet again), and I especially loved her huge, furry paws and long, dark-tipped tail. Her face was exquisitely beautiful, with an expression that can only be described as queenly.
She was designed for a life quite different from what we were able to provide for her. Wild Mountain Lions are solitary, territorial, and usually have a range of 200,000 acres. It is not unusual for an individual to travel more than 10 miles in a single night while hunting prey. Sheela--tame, declawed, and with legs deformed by rickets--never had a chance of living the life of a wild cougar.
What is most mysterious and wonderful is the capacity she had for bonding with her human caregivers. What is there in a wild Mountain Lion’s life cycle that would create such a capacity for affection given and received? I once raised a baby Leopard Cat from birth. This small jungle cat, about the size of an Ocelot, never showed any affection or interest in me once she was grown, even though I had been her only “mother”. She appeared to lack the ability to feel affection—at least for a human being. But Sheela knew her caregivers, and obviously enjoyed the attention and companionship they gave her. Carey Jacks visited Sheela just a few months ago after a separation of several years. Carey wrote in January to say: “The last time I was in town and went to see Sheela she truly seemed to recognize me. She looked at me for about 2 minutes and then walked over to me slowly. It was not long until she was laying on her back and purring. I almost got 'choked up'!”
Sheela’s nineteen years were unmarred by ill health until the last few months of her life. Dr. Alvin Atlas at Riverview Animal Clinic kept her parasite-free, and Dr. Chris Campbell monitored her condition regularly as she entered the last few months of her life. She remained frisky and playful even after her legs began to weaken, and she relished her meals until shortly before the end.
The average lifespan of a wild Mountain Lion is about 10 years. Those extra years of Sheela’s life added richness to the lives of her many friends. We were privileged to cross a barrier between species that few people ever have a chance to cross—especially with a dangerous predator. When we sat with her, or played with her, we felt that we were related to her in some way that was deep, meaningful and real.
The Alabama Wildlife Center is establishing a Memorial Fund in Sheela's honor. The fund will be used to help build a better enclosure for "Bobkitty," the Center's resident Bobcat. For more information, or to contribute to the Sheela Memorial Fund, please click here.