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Cottontail Cottage Wildlife Rehab, Port Chester, NY (2025)

09/08/2025

He was so small, crying for his mom while his skin tore away on a glue trap.

I was supposed to be packing for a trip the next morning. Instead, I was hunched over a garbage can, working as fast as I could to get a baby flying squirrel off a glue trap. His tiny body shook, his cries piercing, and I will never forget them.

The truth about glue traps is they don’t solve problems, they only create agony. A hole in a house isn’t fixed by a glue trap. A family of squirrels doesn’t suddenly disappear because you’ve set one. These devices don’t address the cause, they only inflict slow, terrifying suffering on the animals who get caught.

When I testified before the NY State Senate about banning glue traps, one of the photos I showed was of a flying squirrel stuck just like this. Almost a year later, I still walk into my local hardware store and see stacks of them on the shelves.

It makes me sick because every one of those boxes represents another baby squirrel, another bird, another mouse, another life suffering alone and terrified. And for what?

There are so many humane ways to keep wildlife out of your home. Seal holes, secure food sources, call for help if you need it. But glue traps? They are nothing but cruelty.

So I’m asking you to do something, it takes just 10 seconds to make your voice heard. Please click here to contact your representatives and demand a ban on glue traps in NY: https://vfar.org/gluetraps/

09/05/2025

When you cursed me out for not answering the hotline, I was on a roof in the blazing sun, cradling a squirrel with a broken leg.

You didn’t know that.
All you knew was the phone rang and no one picked up.

What most people don’t realize is that our “hotline” isn’t a call center. It’s not staffed by employees sitting behind desks. It’s usually just two people, me and Meg. That’s it. We answer calls 24/7, on our lunch breaks, in the middle of the night, in grocery store aisles, and sometimes, like that day, while on rooftops trying to save a frightened animal.

When neither of us could grab the phone, the message you left was: “Why the f** do you even have a hotline if no one answers?”
The truth? I called you back less than 15 minutes later, once the squirrel was safe.

To their credit, this person later apologized, and I appreciated that, but it made me pause. Because what they couldn’t see was me, sweaty and sunburned, coaxing an injured animal into safety exactly the work they hoped I’d be doing.

I don’t get paid for this. I don’t charge a fee. I don’t clock out. I do it because these animals deserve someone willing to climb the roof for them. And 99% of the time, I answer that phone. But sometimes, saving a life has to come before answering it.

So if you call and I don’t pick up, please know I’m not choosing to ignore you. I’m out there doing the very thing you want me to do: saving lives. And I will always call you back.

Because this is my life’s work.
Because every wild life matters.
Because without kindness, none of this is possible.

🤍

09/03/2025

If I could tell you one thing about the animals people call pests…

I’d tell you how a baby squirrel wraps his tiny fingers around mine, holding on like I’m the only safe thing left in the world.
I’d tell you how an opossum crunches her food so loud and so silly it makes me laugh out loud when I’m having the worst day.
I’d tell you how a raccoon buries his face into his blanket when he’s scared, the same way a kid hides behind their mom’s legs.

And I’d tell you how they beg.
How a bunny will nudge at my leg with her nose like a puppy, asking for just one more grape. How her eyes light up when I hand her a treat and in that moment, it’s impossible to understand how anyone could ever see her as a “pest.”

I’ve seen them grieve.
I’ve heard too many orphans cry for a mom who’s never coming back.
I’ve watched siblings cling to each other when the world feels too loud, too big, too cruel.

And I’ve seen how they love.
Curling up together in a pile, finding comfort in each other’s breathing.
Learning my voice and trusting my hands, even when it was humans who hurt them in the first place.

This is what I see every single day as a wildlife rehabber.
Not nuisances. Not disposable lives.
I see souls. I see beings who want safety, joy, family the same things we all want.

And I wish you could see them the way I do.
Because if you did, you’d never look at an opossum or a squirrel or a rabbit the same way again.
You’d see what they really are: living, feeling beings who deserve compassion and a chance to grow old in the wild.

08/12/2025

Three rabbits were used for a celebrity photo shoot… and then dumped in Prospect Park like trash.

They were “adopted” online under false pretenses. Taken for clout, for clicks, for a fake heiress’s Instagram. And when the cameras were off, they were left to die…

Domestic rabbits cannot survive outside. They don’t have the instincts. They don’t have the skills. Out there, they starve, they freeze, they’re torn apart by predators. This wasn’t ignorance, it was entitlement. It was cruelty.

And this isn’t just one case. It’s happening everywhere. I get messages every week about dumped bunnies in NYC parks. People posing as adopters just to use them for whatever they want and when they’re done, they disappear.

If this had been puppies, the outrage would be deafening. Rabbits are just as smart, just as loving, and just as deserving of compassion.

Although I’m a wildlife rehabber who specializes in wild rabbits, my heart beats for all rabbits. I’ve seen firsthand how gentle, intelligent, and full of personality they are. They trust us with their lives. They deserve so much better than to be used and thrown away.

Our team member Jackie worked alongside All About Rabbits Rescue last year to save a dumped baby bunny off the highway in Brooklyn. This is the same group who helped save these three, and they have rescued countless dumped domestic rabbits from NYC parks. Almost every rabbit rescue I know is completely full right now, overwhelmed with abandoned bunnies. They are scrambling to save them before it’s too late.

Please, support the rabbit rescues doing this work. Consider fostering. Speak out when you see this happening. As a society, we need to do better. Animals are not props. They’re not toys for children. They’re not throwaway objects. They are living, feeling beings who deserve far more than what we’re giving them.

Charges must be filed, an example needs to be made. If we don’t stand up for animals and hold abusers accountable, we’re telling the world it’s okay.

This is how we change things by speaking up, by refusing to look the other way, and by making sure the next person who thinks about doing this stops before it happens.

08/03/2025

When I was a teenager, I met a woman who taught me how to speak to animals.

Her name was Terry.
To the town, she was a whisper.
The animal lady, they called her.

To me, she was the most magical person I had ever met.

Her little sanctuary, Serenity Springs, was overflowing with life. Everywhere you looked there was someone the world had forgotten, a gigantic blind horse, kittens left in a box on her porch, an orphaned feral hog no one else knew what to do with.

Somehow, every broken creature seemed to know where to go.

I was an awkward, lonely kid who never quite fit anywhere. But with her, I found a place. I spent my days cleaning stalls, feeding animals, and following her through the fields like a shadow. And without me even realizing it, she was teaching me who I was.

I will never forget watching her hold an injured squirrel one day, whispering to it like they shared a secret. She looked at me and said something I didn’t understand until much later:

“Animals speak to us. Most people just don’t bother to listen.”

Years later, I know exactly what she meant.

Animals do speak.
In the way their breathing slows when they finally feel safe.
In the trembling that stills when they realize they are not alone anymore.
In the quiet, wordless way they tell you, “I want to live.”

Every single day at Cottontail Cottage, I try to be for them what she once was for me.

I think she’d be proud.
Because I hear them now, Terry.
I hear them all.
And I never stopped listening.

🤍

07/28/2025

“What makes you beautiful is that you know how dark the world can be, but still choose to see the good.”

That is exactly what this work is.

Every day at Cottontail Cottage, I see really hard stuff.
A bunny pulled from a dog’s mouth.
Tiny opossums clinging to their mama who will never come back.

Darkness is everywhere if you look for it.

But here’s the part I hold onto:
Every single animal who comes through our doors only gets here because someone cared enough to do something.
Someone stopped their car.
Someone carried a cardboard box across town.
Someone called and said, “Please help.”

To do this work is to choose to believe in hope.

It’s why I keep going, even on the days that leave me in tears. Because there is nothing like the moment you watch a healed animal disappear back into the wild, finally free.

That’s when I remember… there is still so much good in this world.

In them.
In you.
And, I hope, in the work we’re doing here.

If you’ve ever stopped to help, called, donated, or even just cared you are part of this good. You are why we can keep choosing hope.

🤍

07/17/2025

Some people drive up in luxury cars. Some arrive in the car they’re living in. Both arrived here carrying an animal desperately in need of help.

That’s not a metaphor. That’s my real life.

It happened this week, just like it’s happened so many times before.
People from completely different worlds, showing up at our door with the same thing: A heart that couldn’t keep driving.

And I treat them exactly the same.
Because here at Cottontail Cottage, we don’t see dollar signs.
We see compassion. And that’s all we need to see.

We don’t charge for what we do. Not because it doesn’t cost anything, it does.
But because I believe no one should have to choose between helping an animal and paying their bills.

I didn’t grow up with much.
I remember what it’s like to depend on the kindness of strangers.
And I carry that with me every day I do this work.

It means everything to me that people can come here and know they won’t be judged.
They won’t be turned away.
And they won’t be asked, “Can you afford this?”

Whether someone is living in their car or pulling up in one that costs more than this entire rehab, they get the same care. The same effort. The same dignity.

And sometimes… it’s the person with the least who gives the most.
I’ve had people hand me every crumpled dollar they had, with tears in their eyes, saying, “I wish I could do more.”

But they already did.
They showed up. They cared. They made sure that tiny life didn’t get left behind.

That’s what this place runs on. Not just donations.
But humanity.
Real, messy, beautiful humanity.

We do this because someone, somewhere, still believes that every life matters.
No matter who you are. No matter what you have.
Compassion is enough.

🤍

07/12/2025

I built Cottontail Cottage from nothing.

Just a dark, dingy walk in basement that no one had used in 100 years. The floors were cracked, the air was stale, and it wasn’t much to look at. But I saw what it could be. I sold my business and poured everything I had into this space, every dollar, every ounce of energy, every hope that it could one day become something meaningful.

And it did.

Thanks to you, your belief, your support it grew into something far more beautiful than I ever imagined. A little sanctuary for the animals who have nowhere else to go. A place where second chances begin.

Like the tiny life that came through our doors this week.

She was lying beneath a mailbox on a scorching hot day. Alone, a baby southern flying squirrel, just a few inches long, too young to be on her own. Her eye was injured, her ear bruised. There was no nest in sight. No tree. No mother.

But someone saw her.
And now… she’s here. Safe. Warm. Breathing soft little breaths beneath layers of fleece.

This is why I keep going.

The days are long right now, early mornings that bleed into late nights, seven days a week. Wildlife rehab doesn’t come with shifts or weekends off. It’s just… always. And I’ll be honest: by this time in the season, most of us are feeling it. Worn thin. A little hollowed out. But also deeply full, because this work still matters.

There’s beauty in it.
In the feeding, the healing, the holding on.
In the quiet knowing that a life was saved because someone chose to care.

And I’m not doing it alone anymore. I have the most amazing volunteers, people who transport animals across hours of highway, who wash dishes and clean enclosures and do the unglamorous things that keep this place standing. Their kindness holds Cottontail Cottage together, even when I feel like I’m unraveling.

We’re dreaming bigger these days searching for land, planning soft release enclosures, trying to build something more permanent for the future. It’s exciting… and a little daunting.

One of the hardest parts of being the founder and director of Cottontail Cottage is this:
I really hate asking for things.

I hate asking for help. I hate asking for money. It makes me uncomfortable every single time. But I do it anyway because this isn’t about me. It’s about them.

Every single dollar we receive goes directly to the animals in our care. Not to salaries. Not to overhead. Just to food, treatment, supplies, and the work of giving these wild lives a second chance.

If you’ve ever thought about supporting us long-term, becoming a monthly donor, even at a small amount, makes a bigger difference than you’d think.

Monthly donors give us the baseline we need to plan ahead.
To dream a little bigger.
To build what these animals deserve.

They’re the reason we can start looking for land. Start designing soft release enclosures. Start turning the idea of a full wildlife center into something real.

It’s about creating something lasting.
For every baby that ends up under a mailbox, waiting for help.
For every life that still needs saving.

And as long as I’m here, I’ll keep showing up. 🤍

https://givebutter.com/cottontail-cottage-wildlife-rehab

07/09/2025

Let’s talk about entitlement in 2025.
Because wow… it’s really having a moment.

This year, more than ever, we’ve seen people treating wildlife rehab like it’s free pest control.
Calls demanding we drive hours to them, immediately.

No offer to donate. No willingness to help. Not even a “thank you.”
Just a whole lot of “fix this for me, now.”

One of the many recent gems?
A message to our hotline that said:
“Get rid of them by Saturday.”
They were talking about two coyotes with mange, thin, sick, and simply trying to survive.

I responded with compassion. I explained how to haze humanely, how to remove pet food, and how to help the coyotes move along safely.
I even offered to treat the mange, at no cost to them.

But that wasn’t what they wanted.
What they wanted was for someone else to erase the situation.
And when I didn’t comply?
“I’m a taxpayer. I have rights.”

It’s wild, literally.
Because mange is treatable.
Coyotes are protected by law.
And no, paying taxes does not make you licensed to kill wildlife you find inconvenient.

But it’s not just coyotes.
We get calls like this about foxes, skunks, groundhogs, all blamed for problems people created by leaving out food, failing to cover window wells, refusing to haze, or ignoring basic prevention.

And instead of taking accountability, they call us demanding we remove wildlife from… forests.

Yes, that really happened.
Someone once asked me to “get rid of all the deer and turkeys from Purchase.”
When I explained that’s not legal, ethical, or remotely possible, they actually reported me to the DEC.
(Who, shocker, backed me up.)

Here’s the thing:
As wildlife rehabbers, we do this work out of love.
We don’t get paid for hotline calls. We don’t charge for rescues.
But people have learned that caring makes us vulnerable and some try to take full advantage of that.

But I don’t play that game.
I don’t fold to threats.
And I won’t bend for someone who sees wild animals as disposable.

These conversations are exhausting.
But I will always show up for the animals.
Because they’re not the problem. We are.

No, the coyotes weren’t killed.
They’re still out there. Still surviving.
And as long as I’m here, I’ll keep showing up for them.

Wildlife deserves better than fear, entitlement, and ultimatums.
They deserve space. They deserve respect.
And frankly, so do we.

06/26/2025

I will spend the rest of my life loving what the world tells us to forget.

Not because it’s easy.
Not because it makes sense on paper.
But because I know what happens when no one shows up for them.

Every day, animals are born into a world that sees them as disposable. A rabbit nest in a backyard becomes a nuisance. An opossum on the porch is called a pest. A squirrel in the attic is someone’s problem. These animals who are vital to our ecosystems, who quietly hold this planet together are treated like they don’t belong.

But they do.

And I’ve made it my life’s work to remind people of that.

At Cottontail Cottage, we care for the ones no one else will. We hold space for the animals who are never chosen. And what we’ve found is simple but powerful: the moment you look closely, everything changes.

You notice the way a rabbit relaxes when she finally feels safe.
You hear the tiny clicks of an opossum saying hello.
You watch a squirrel wrap herself in a blanket and know, this is someone.

And people see it too. They message me saying, “I never thought I’d love an opossum,” or “I didn’t know rabbits had such big personalities.”

But they do, of course they do.

The truth is, we’ve been trained to only value what’s cute, shocking, or convenient. We’re taught to love animals that sit in our laps or pose for selfies, and to overlook the ones who live in the shadows, clean up our waste, aerate our soil, and pollinate our plants.

But I believe that a life doesn’t need to be pretty to be precious.
It doesn’t need to be tame to be worthy.
It doesn’t need to be profitable to be protected.

Wild animals matter, just as they are.

So I’ll keep doing this work. For the rabbits mistaken for lawn pests, for the opossums hit by cars and never looked at twice, for every animal who’s been overlooked, unloved, unwanted.

This is my mission.
This is my promise.
And I will spend the rest of my life keeping it. 🤍

06/24/2025

Some people think doing this work means you get used to loss. But the truth is, you never do. And this one hurts in a different way.

I didn’t know Mikayla Raines well. We followed each other, exchanged a few kind words here and there. But I knew of her, the way many of us in this world of wildlife do. She was brave, she showed up. Not just for the animals in her care, but for the people who watched and learned from her.

And this week, we learned that she’s gone.
From what we know, relentless online bullying played a part in that loss.

She had a husband, a young daughter, a life, a purpose. And even all of that wasn’t enough to shield her from the cruelty of people who will never understand the cost of what we do or the damage their words can cause.

I don’t show my face online very often and honestly, it’s on purpose. It creates just enough distance to make the hate easier to delete. People don’t know me by name, they just know the work. That small boundary makes it easier to breathe sometimes.

But Mikayla showed up fully with her face, her voice, her heart. And for that, she was met with the kind of cruelty that can break even the strongest soul.

If you’ve never been on the receiving end of that kind of online hate, I hope you never are.
If you have then you already know the tightness it puts in your chest, the way it lingers long after the screen goes dark.

We are human, we are trying.
And when you write something cruel under someone’s post, we see it, we feel it. It doesn’t disappear when you close the app.

If your only contribution to this world is cutting others down, I don’t know what to tell you, except this:
Kindness is free and so is silence. Pick one.

Mikayla should still be here, laughing with her daughter, caring for her animals, dreaming bigger.

Instead, she’s gone. And if that doesn’t make us all stop and think, I don’t know what will.

Please be kind. Please be better.
And if you do anything today, let it be in honor of someone who gave her life to kindness, only to be met with the opposite.

Rest in peace, Mikayla. I’m so sorry this world didn’t protect you. 🤍

06/24/2025

Heatwaves Are Deadly for Wildlife, Here’s What You Can Do…

Wild animals don’t have air conditioning. During heatwaves, even the most resilient animals, rabbits, birds, squirrels, opossums can suffer from dehydration, heatstroke, or death.

But here’s the thing: you can help, and it costs nothing.

🌿 Place shallow bowls of water outside
🌿 Add a few rocks or sticks so smaller animals and insects can drink safely
🌿 Refresh daily, and keep them in shady spots
🌿 Never add electrolytes, Gatorade, or sugar just clean, fresh water

A single bowl could save dozens of lives this week. And in a world that often feels overwhelming, this is one small thing we can do to make a difference.

Please share this tip. You never know who it might reach, or how many lives it might save. 🤍

Cottontail Cottage Wildlife Rehab

09/08/2025

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09/03/2025

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08/03/2025

07/28/2025

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