Embracing Hope and Soaring in Troubled Times

By Maggie Engler, Rapid City, South Dakota

As appeared in

Riga, our Eurasian eagle owl, perched majestically on the gloved arm of her handler. The crowd “oohed” and “aahed.”

Riga was always the highlight of the Festival of Birds, our wildlife education and rehabilitation center’s biggest event of the year. For good reason—the eagle owl is one of the largest raptors in the world, and with her six-foot wingspan, Riga was breathtaking.

I would’ve been awestruck myself, but that Saturday in September 2010 I was in shock. I felt as if I were plummeting over a precipice, my last, best hope gone.

The audience didn’t know, but Wildlife Experiences was closing. My position as executive director was being terminated, along with my seven full- and part-time staffers—victims of the struggling economy.

I’d gotten the news the day before from my board president. What will I do now? How will I pay my bills? What will happen to the animals? I’d had enough heartache in my life to know the answers couldn’t be good.

I’d come here to Rapid City, to the wildlife center, two years ago, certain God was leading me, showing me a way to get past my struggles. Many nights I’d found comfort in the verse from Isaiah: “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles.”

Perfect for a naturalist whose specialty is raptors, right?

But here I was, stumbling again. I’d lost so much these past two years: my marriage, our ranch, my financial security. I was paying the minimum on maxed-out credit cards, praying the power wouldn’t get turned off before I got paid, living on rice and beans.

I’d told myself things were going to improve, that I had to walk before I could fly. But I couldn’t even manage to get on my feet.

“How are you doing?” I was so lost in thought I hadn’t noticed my friend John Halverson, one of our volunteers, come up beside me. Besides my two full-time staffers he was the one person I’d told of the closing.

“It’s scary,” I said. “So many people out of jobs. Fifty-year-old naturalists aren’t exactly in demand.”

“Try to stay positive,” John said. “You’re smart and talented. Something will turn up. I’m praying for you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it.” But I’d said so many prayers already.

I’d devoted my life to working with animals. Studying and observing them, teaching children to appreciate the wonders of wildlife—it hardly seemed like work at all.

My favorites were the raptors. Watching a hawk soar through the air, that incredible combination of power and grace—it gave me chills. I was seeing God’s hand at work.

Once I’d had a fantasy of starting my own raptor education center. I even took a fund-raising job for a South Dakota wildlife foundation to develop my business skills. If only.

Instead, I married a fellow wildlife enthusiast, and we moved to a ranch in Montana. Too late, I realized I’d made a mistake. Bret was careless with money and sank us deep in debt. He was unfaithful to me.

Finally, I divorced him. By then the economy was crashing. We were on the brink of bankruptcy. We lost our ranch to a short sale. Then five months after the divorce Bret died in an accident. The shock of it all was more than I could comprehend.

And there was more. I was now responsible for all of our debt.

When Wildlife Experiences called, it seemed like an answer to prayer. I loved the work, caring for some 40 animals, mostly birds, taking them to presentations at schools.