I do not have a child, or children, and probably never will. I have nieces and nephews, and I worry about their future, and love them very much. This letter is for them.
I work, day in and day out, and most nights, and most weekends, for the future of the wildlife they may never get to see in person. I have been lucky enough to meet many creatures from all parts of the world on a level that has affirmed emotion, familial love, and personalities that most people imagine can only come from other humans.
We love to watch wildlife documentaries, or cartoons with personified animals. Yet most of us fail to empathize with the families of other living creatures on this planet who suffer when they lose their livelihoods in their natural habitat.
I have dedicated my life, with the passion and love that feels like all of my soul, to remembering the look an animal gives me when it is rescued from a dangerous situation humans have created for it and its family.
Some animals are loners. Others are strongly tied to their relations. I’m writing this letter in the hopes that in 2050, there are grandchildren and great grandchildren of the animals I have loved today, and a home for them to raise their families.
There are refugees all over the globe from climate change who are not human, and some of us are taking them in and hoping for a future where they have a safe home to return to. We are also working tirelessly to save those homes as best as we can.
My promise is to continue to dedicate my life, my business, and my future to creating cultures that embrace environmental action not only for our own good, but the good of the countless other species hurting from climate change. I hope to have a carbon zero zoo by 2025, to cut water consumption in half by 2020, to minimise electricity in all new design work, and to create a shared space where humans are taught that wild animals live in our backyards and they are our neighbours.