SPEARFISH - In the deafening silence of deeply wooded Spearfish hills, the roar of a 600-pound lion is bone chilling. On a mid-morning tour through the Spirit of the Hills Wildlife Sanctuary, growls of tigers and lions roll through the trees, making visitors pause mid-step, mid-breath, the fine hair on the back of their necks standing on end.
Mike Welchynski keeps walking. It doesn't phase him. The lions and tigers are simply using their voices to communicate, he says, the way dogs bark and cats meow.
It's just one of many lessons Welchynski, owner and director of the sanctuary, teaches the 4,000 to 6,000 kids and adults who tromp through every year.
The 290-acre lot is home to more than 350 domestic and exotic birds and animals and has grown since its 1999 inception. The facility employs only one paid staff member, so it operates on volunteer work, donations and a passionate, hard-charging owner who says he is bent on creating one of the country's safest, most prestigious sanctuaries.
"Our No. 1 thing is the animals, and our second is education," volunteer Don Balyeat said.
Some of the animals who have been brought to the sanctuary were injured, crazy, maimed or sick. But more often than not, they are perfectly healthy, and Spirit of the Hills has become "a dumping ground for people's unwanted animals," Welchynski says.
Like the pot bellied pig to be dropped off this afternoon - it has simply grown too big for the owner's residence.
"They want it to live here forever," he said. "They'll give one bag of food and never see it again."
Not a zoo
At the start of a long, winding trail, a large cage houses colorful birds and sad stories. A blue and gold Macaw named Julio clasps his beak on the cage and follows Welchynski with black, beady eyes. His body is covered in vibrant yellow and ocean-blue feathers, but his chest is bare, reminiscent of a cold chicken breast at the grocery store.
Julio's owners grew tired of his screeches and locked him in the basement for four years. In his boredom, Julio nervously plucked every feather off his chest. He continues to do so at the sanctuary. He's a work in progress, Welchynski said.
Most of the exotic animals - emus, camels, lions, tigers, bears, leopards, lynx - will live the rest of their lives at the sanctuary. They were transferred from a Minnesota breeding facility that was shut down in 2004 for illegal activity. Others came in 2003, from a Keystone family, and more came from local humane societies, pet stores and citizens.
Sheep, dogs, cats, ducks, peacocks, and chickens roam free on the property and are often under foot, searching for food or attention.
The free-roaming animals and the lack of vending machines, bathrooms, cement walkways, a souvenir shop or clean-cut lawns, give it a markedly different look from a zoo.
"This is not a tour facility; this isn't Bear Country," Welchynski said. "This is a working rescue place."
The sanctuary does not breed, sell or trade any of its exotic animals but does adopt out the domestic animals.
In one of the more unique views of the sanctuary, an adult male lion lives with a foxhound. At the site of visitors, the dog starts howling, and the lion bats at his face with a paw, clearly annoyed by the ruckus.
The two animals met at the sanctuary when the lion, Stinky, was being bottle fed by workers and Butter would lick the milk off his face. The two became inseparable.
Officials from the U.S. Department of Agriculture asked Welchynski to separate the two, but after six days of upset animals, he was allowed to house them together again.
The sanctuary's purpose is two-fold, Welchynski said: helping animals and teaching about the way they live.
"You can still teach kids about their life in an appropriate manner," he said.
Bred in captivity
Welchynski grows frustrated and increasingly animated when talking about the stories he hears of a python killing a child in an apartment, corrupt sanctuary or circus officials illegally breeding animals to make money or traveling shows that feature tigers to feed, a bear to be touched.
In a large enclosure behind him, a male lion named Kemelu paces along the fence, rubbing his thick, fury body against the cage to ease an itch.
"They're fascinating to look at," he said. "But because of somebody's desire to sell baby lions, they'll live in a cage the rest of their lives."
There are ways to educate without making the animals uncomfortable by parading them around for money, he said. He often teaches kids about exotic animals by drawing a parallel with domestic animals.
"I ask them how their cat acts when they take them away from home," he said. "These animals are the same way."
Because many of the animals at Sprit of the Hills are used to being around humans, Welchynski and some of his staff come in close contact with the more dangerous animals, including almost a dozen bears.
Welchynski ran a hose into the large bear area during the heat of the day and sprayed cold water onto Sammy, a nearly 700-pound American black bear. Boo Boo and Brandi lumbered to Welchynski's feet to drink from a water tank, the bulk of one of their heads twice the size of a human head.
He doesn't foster an unhealthy relationship with them, he said.
"We feed them, get in and out."
Love of animals
Welchynski said his love of animals is intertwined with his childhood memories of growing up in Canada with an alcoholic father who tortured animals in front of him. It started what has been a lifelong pursuit of redemption for the creatures who suffered alongside him.
"There's not a lot of voices for animals," he said.
As an adult, Welchynski founded Spirit Valley Wildlife Sanctuary in Dauphin, Manitoba and it was through a chance meeting with Johanna Meier and Guido Della Vecchia, owners and directors of the Black Hills Passion Play, that Welchynski transported 200 animals across the international border to establish the sanctuary in Spearfish.
The sanctuary is licensed by the South Dakota Animal Industry Board and the U.S. Department of Agriculture, but it has not been without controversy. Welchynski and a neighbor living next to the sanctuary once went head to head at a county commission meeting about the animals making noise, particularly dogs barking. The dispute has been resolved, Welchynski said, and a nighttime underground dog kennel is in the works.
The fact that the sanctuary is successfully operating with nothing more than a generous community is a testament to the wide spread support it has, he said.
On a recent afternoon, Welchynski made his way into a crowd of kids at lunch time. He parked himself at one of the picnic tables and grinned when one of the teachers handed him a sandwich, a handout he is accustomed to and grateful for.
"I'm not a millionaire," he had said earlier in the morning. "It's an OK existence. To be doing something for the world, you can live below your means. It's a gift from God."
Contact Kayla Gahagan at 394-8410 or kayla.gahagan@rapidcityjournal.com
