- December 26, 2024
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On a sweltering July afternoon, children of all ages seek shelter in a small arena. As the seats begin to fill, “Hakuna Matata” filters in on the stereo. Slowly, the audience begins picking up the tune, creating a robust chorus. What the children lack in tone they make up for in gusto.
Although the kids are busting out a Disney favorite, they’re not waiting for a costume-clad show. No, they wait for something much more exciting.
As the crowd reaches an ear-shattering volume, a man in a simple black polo steps into the center of the arena. Clayton Rosaire flashes a smile at the crowd. Children, elbows akimbo, jockey for a better position as their parents ready their phones.
Just when it seems the room is out of oxygen, in struts Mia, a nearly 1,000-pound liger — a mix of a lion and a tiger. Although many in the crowd watch from behind their hands, Rosaire holds his smile. For him, it’s just another Friday.
For him, tigers are a family affair.
That is, if family affairs include keeping a large-animal rescue afloat through a pandemic and negative publicity from a Netflix documentary on similar animal habits. Oh, and don’t forget feeding 55 big cats daily.
Rosaire works as the vice president of Big Cat Habitat & Gulf Coast Sanctuary, which was started by his mother, Kay.
What began as a small operation with a goal of bringing awareness to endangered big cats has now grown into a sprawling sanctuary for more than 150 animals.
As Kay Rosaire drives around her property in a golf cart decked out to look like a tiger, she talks about her childhood. She grew up in an English circus family, learning to care for animals from a young age. In 1961, her family moved to Waterford, Penn., where Kay started her own horse riding academy and taught kids and adults horsemanship with a team of 50 horses.
It wasn’t until Rosaire cared for Clarence, the cross-eyed lion, however, that her love for big cats began.
“We had always had animals in our life. It was what we did,” she says. “It was our way of living, and then at some point, I realized how endangered tigers are, and I started saying: ‘We’ve got to do something. We’ve got to help.’”
Rosaire began giving educational tours with big cats to bring awareness to their predation. Tigers have long been hunted for trophies or medicinal uses and are listed as endangered by the International Union for Conservation of Nature Red List. Today, there are fewer than 3,200 mature tigers living in the wild.
After several years caring for animals in the snowy winters in Pennsylvania, Rosaire headed for sun. In 1974, she purchased land on Palmer Boulevard, and her family began using it as winter quarters.
One day, Rosaire received a call from a man hoping to take a tiger to another country. He asked if Rosaire would take care of it while he got the necessary documents in order.
He never came back.
“Word kind of got around that we had taken that tiger in, and then other people called saying: ‘I’ve got a tiger that needs a home. It’s going to be euthanized if not,’” Rosaire says. “I just couldn’t say no. At one time I actually took in seven lions to stop that.”
At the same time, Rosaire’s brother, Derrick, began rescuing bears. They took in three from the Kissimmee Zoo when it closed, but unbeknownst to them, one of the bears was pregnant, so they wound up with six.
“He built up the bear cages, and I built the cats, and after a while, people wanted to come here and see what we were doing,” Rosaire says. “I thought, ‘Well, I can’t afford this.’ I had no money. I was paying for everything myself.”
So they decided to open the park on the weekends for a donation entry.
As the park’s popularity grew, so did the property. A flood of animals from farm foreclosures, the dissolution of local nonprofits and people’s deaths were added. About that time, Rosaire began the process of turning the sanctuary into a nonprofit.
Although the park was founded in 1987, it did not receive its nonprofit status until 2005, when it became a full sanctuary. It now is home to more than 150 animals including monkeys, birds, alligators and zebras.
“I don’t say no,” Rosaire says as she stops the golf cart to pick up a baby bird that has fallen from its nest. “If I can’t take it, I find somebody that can. There’s no reason to kill healthy animals. They may not look so good, but they feel fine.”
Even after the park received its nonprofit status, life wasn’t easy for Rosaire. She put every penny she made back into the park, opting to live out of a trailer and drive an old, beat-up car to make sure the animals were cared for.
“It’s been a struggle,” she says. “Six years ago, I had $800 in the bank. Up until two years ago, I had never lived in a house without wheels because I didn’t want to build a house for $100,000 when I could build habitats for the animals.”
The park has 55 big cats, which all eat about 15 pounds of meat a day. That equates to approximately $4,200 a day just to feed the cats.
After the park gained animals, Rosaire needed help running it, so Clayton Rosaire stepped in. Following his mother’s footsteps, Clayton began working with the animals through the positive reward method. He bonds with the animals through enrichment techniques. When he calls the animals by name, they come.
It is this bond, he says, that allows him to safely enter the ring with them each day.
“They fall in love with us because we’re the ones that care for them,” Clayton says as he bonds with a tiger. “It’s like a baby falling in love with its mom. We’re there for them every day, and we bring them treats and try to think of new ideas to play with them.”
He uses his time in the ring each day to teach the public about the big cats. All the park animals have been born in captivity, which makes them good ambassadors for the wild ones. It’s important, he says, to educate the younger generations on animal predation because they have the ability to break the cycle.
“The younger voices are the ones that are going to change things,” Clayton says. “Right now, the world really needs change, for a better environment and for better relationships. There’s a lot of uncertainty around animal sanctuaries, but they can be so beneficial.”
Much of the recent uncertainty can be attributed to the Netflix documentary series “Tiger King,” which features several big cat zoos through a less-than-positive light.
In the past few months, many have confused Rosaire’s Big Cat Habitat & Gulf Coast Sanctuary with Big Cat Rescue in Tampa, which was featured on the series. Kay Rosaire says that although she hasn’t seen much backlash for her sanctuary specifically, habitats all over the U.S. are now facing scrutiny, which brings attention away from the main goal: raising awareness for endangered species.
“I wish they would have shown a more positive side to this world because it’s important stuff,” Kay Rosaire says. “It helps people bond with animals, and it’s been proven that if people can connect with an animal, they’re much more likely to want to save it.”
Although she acknowledged there are some ill-managed properties, she says not all of them are bad and should continue to bring care for animals that need it.
“It’s a shame when you have one bad person, it makes everybody look bad,” she says. “I don’t think it hurts us too much. We have a pretty big following, and people come here, and they see what it is and how much we care and how healthy our animals look.”
One such visitor was Alexa Giovanis, who traveled from Charlotte, N.C., to see the tigers, her favorite animal. As she snaps a picture with a tiger, she says it has been her lifelong dream to see the animals up close.
“I was nervous to come after seeing ‘Tiger King,’ but it’s clear these animals are loved,” Giovanis says. “They seem so happy and healthy.”
At the same time the series was released, Rosaire had to close the property during its busiest season of the year due to the pandemic. Now that it’s back open, she hopes they can begin making up their lost funds. In the near future she hopes to build an educational center on the property, so school children can learn about the animals they’re seeing.
As Rosaire looks around from the seat of her golf cart, she begins to tear up.
“We have a wonderful life,” she says. “It’s not big financial rewards — none of us are wealthy — but we are rich in love and caring, and to me, that’s all that matters.”
Asked about the future of the sanctuary, she smiles and points to a girl standing in front of the monkeys. It’s her 11-year-old granddaughter, Ella, giving a tour of the sanctuary.
“That’s my future,” she says.
