The Beginning of Aspen Valley Audrey Tournay, founder and director, moved to the beautiful Parry Sound area in 1969 from St. Catharines.  As a high school teacher she would teach her classrooms about our wildlife and dispel the many myths about raccoons, porcupines, skunks etc.  In 1972, Audrey moved to Aspen Valley and it was then that the first raccoon was rehabilitated and the streams of wildlife directed to her care have never ceased.  In 1982, Audrey finished her teaching career and completely dedicated her life to the care of orphaned and injured animals, never turning an animal away.  Aspen Valley's reputation as a refuge grew from there.  In 2004, the International Fund of Animal Welfare awarded Audrey with an Animal Action Award for her dedication and love for all creatures and the work she continues today.  We have been featured on programs such as National Geographic, CTV W-five, Treehouse, Discovery and Animal Planet.   Aspen Valley is a non-profit, non-government funded, registered charity that survives solely on donations from individuals that care about the preservation of our wildlife and believe in  the work Audrey started.   You can visit the Sanctuary….                                                   May Victoria Day Weekend to the Thanksgiving Weekend                                     Every Wednesday and Sunday only                                     From 1-4 pm  To learn more about Aspen Valley Wildlife Sanctuary visit their website.

Sadie is Not a Teddy Bear

Teddy bears are wonderful, and every child should have one. I have one, a very tattered teddy, who sits high on a wardrobe in my room and surveys the world wisely. My grandfather bought it for me before I was born and teddy has endured life with me and never lost his courage. I was somewhat affronted, though, when I found a bear, which must have been his twin brother, in an ANTIQUE store. Anyway, teddy bears are sweet and cuddly, with nice soft paws, which reach out to be hugged. They give us a warm, friendly impression of cubs.

An entirely wrong impression: real bear cubs are utterly wonderful -- however they have small sharp teeth, long claws, and the final decision about exactly who should be permitted to cuddle them. Humans are not high on that list.

One human, a few years ago, found (or was given) a tiny, orphaned cub, so small that, when it was wrapped tightly in a blanket could be held in her arms and fed with a baby bottle. Watching it, her arms shielded from the prodding claws, she decided she would like a real bear for a pet. She kept it in the house. It grew. Though her housekeeping suffered greatly, she loved the bear -- and it kept on growing. All winter it grew (who hibernates in a warm house with lots of food?) Spring came, and the bear was restless, pacing. A pet? No, a growing bear demanding space, and, above all, freedom.

Finally. Her friends worried, word got around -- and someone persuaded her that a bear could also, thwarted, become dangerous. Because it was so very tame, it could also become a threat to other humans. The bear was brought to Aspen Valley. We have named her Sadie. She continues to be tame. She continues to be a bear.

In the wild, bears spend most of the night roaming field and forest; going over new trails and trails they themselves develop, all in an effort to find enough food to fill an empty belly. Once that belly is full, and the sun is rising in the east, the bear returns to its home under a log, under a huge rock, in a cliff side cave, up a tree, and curl up and go to sleep. If the summer is warm, it may stroll through a berry patch, and gorge on sun-ripened berries. Then it might find a sunny rock and stretch out to casually watch the world. And the berry patch. That chance of such freedom has been taken from Sadie, but we are giving her all we can.

Sadie lives back in a huge enclosure in the woods, quietly away from humans. She has trees to climb, rocks to arrange and rearrange, and a stream, flowing through, where she can sit in the water -- swim -- or even catch the unwary fish. Everyday Tony supplies her with a huge bowl of kibble. And apples, dozens of apples. As many apples as she can eat. When finally satisfied, she climbs up on one of her rocks and sleeps in the sunshine.

Winter comes, and Sadie, like every other grown bear, knows that true bears hibernate. We had given her a small, straw filled shed to live in. Before her, other bears had found it most satisfactory. Perhaps, because it had been built by humans, it reminded her too much of her human-infested house where she grew up. Carefully sawn wood, nails, and a tin roof. For a bear? Really! She totally ignored it. Sadie would build her own house.

Thoughtfully, she selected a place near the base of a sheltered rocky cliff, where the earth was soft enough that she could dig it -- and she set to work. During the long hours of the night, she worked.

Her cave is deep and dry and dark, sturdy against the rock foot of the small cliff. There she can curl up and go to sleep, or watch the branches of the trees above her. When the weather becomes cold, and she is fat and full of food, she will go to sleep there while the snow piles deep above her. She should have been free to build it someplace far away in the wilderness and, when spring comes, wander away for mile upon mile.

Except that a human thought she was a cute, cuddly teddy bear.

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