Animal magnetism...real life with exotic pets-5/4/97-ANIMAL MAGNETISM;
PORTAGE LAWYER'S COURTROOM CHARISMA HELPS HIM WIN CASES, BUT AT HOME, HIS EXOTIC PETS RULE
By KARIN SCHOLZ; PLAIN DEALER REPORTER
DATELINE: PALMYRA TOWNSHIP
Crouched and cooing baby talk to his white Bengal tiger, Timothy Hart was dressed in jeans that were getting muddier and a V-neck undershirt that barely hid the tattoo on his chest.
The only nearby relic of his day job was a crumpled but stylish navy necktie lying on the floor of his truck.
If there is an obvious connection between Hart's primitive home life - as caretaker of two cougars and the tiger - and his sophisticated 9-to-5 life - one of Portage County's best criminal defense lawyers - it is that his salary goes toward the animals.
"I'm well aware of the bizarre contradiction," said Hart, 42. "Sometimes I can't believe it myself."
At his law office in Kent, Hart's phone rings constantly. At his boxy brick house in southwestern Portage County, Hart does not own a phone.
In court, his hair is slick and perfect. In the animal compound, it is windblown and boyish.
He speaks so eloquently in trials that in one case, jurors said they acquitted the defendant because, in part, Hart was the better lawyer. At home, he uses the word "dude" so freely that it became his male cougar's official name.
Without question, though, the sharp mind and precision of his professional life kept him from losing his animals when some of his neighbors protested.
Hart lives with his ex-wife's children in a house he bought in 1994, probably for less than he invested in his cats and their habitat. A gravel road on the south side of the barn and horse pasture leads to the compound, about halfway into his 85 acres.
If passers-by did not know the cats lived there, they would think Hart's property was like most in the township farming community of 2,600.
The compound sits in a valley between two lakes Hart dug and stocked himself and a second house he is designing and building. Hart keeps a lawn chair at the edge of the water, but he spends most of his time with his animals.
Several times a week, he cleans the cages and feeds the tiger, Nikala, and the cougars, Jake, 2, a female, and Dude, 4. For years, Hart has fed them with beef he has butchered from cow carcasses donated by local farmers.
"It's a part-time job," he said.
When he bought Nikala, one of about 90 white endangered Bengal tigers in America, in November 1995, he let his fascination become a little more public than with his cougars. Hart bought the animals from Ohio dealers and bottle-fed them as infants.
He even brought Nikala to the Portage County Courthouse when she was a cub.
Around that time, neighbors learned about the tiger and started complaining to the Palmyra Township trustees, claiming the township's zoning code prohibited exotic animals.
About 50 residents would come to trustee meetings - half to complain and half in support, said Trustees Chairman James Deffenbaugh.
In March 1996, zoning inspector Sandy Freed served Hart with a violation notice and gave him three days to remove the cougars, the tiger and a wolf he owned at the time.
Hart produced a state permit designating his land as an agriculture district, which allows animal husbandry. The law does not specify the types of animals.
The township tried to pursue the action through the prosecutor's office, which ruled Hart was right.
The U.S. Department of Agriculture conducted a routine inspection of Hart's property in March and cited him for one violation - failing to completely burn animal feces - out of more than 250 requirements, said Deffenbaugh.
As Hart drove toward the cages on a recent night, the cats stood on their perches to watch, even though he had been back there with some of a friend's children only minutes earlier.
He opened the locked outside fence and reached inside the second fence to pet Dude and Jake, who purred at his touch. He stepped inside the tiger's cage and sat down on a piece of wood.
Despite Nikala's size, Hart still considers her his baby.
"She's always happy to see me," he said as Nikala, 18 months and 230 pounds, licked his face. "I need them and they need me. We have an incredible bond."
One of 11 children, Hart started raising reptiles as a third-grader in Kent and later owned cows, horses, birds, fish, dogs and cats. He has a hard time pinpointing what interested him in exotic creatures, but he relays facts about their ancestry, habits and health as if he has studied them his entire life.
Deffenbaugh said he was still receiving dozens of letters, clearly solicited by someone against Hart, from several zoos, humane societies and regulatory agencies. The letters claim that animals could carry disease and that captivity amounts to cruelty.
"Every one of these letters opposes what's being done here," Deffenbaugh said. "I am very sensitive to [Hart's] rights, but I believe everyone should feel safe and comfortable."
He said a dog might be able to injure someone just as easily as one of Hart's animals, and "certainly Tim has gone above and beyond what is expected of him as far as fencing them in.
"But you hear stories about animals turning on their trainers," said Deffenbaugh, who said he might someday accept Hart's invitation to see the animals. "I guess it's the fear of the unknown, of them getting loose."
When the zoning dispute died down, Hart built a second fence around the compound in hopes of convincing visitors and others that they were safe. Meanwhile, the township zoning commission is writing a law that members hope will prevent residents from owning exotic animals in the future.
Hart said he knew his compound and permit were legal and he never believed he would be forced to sell his animals.
"I know what I'm doing," said Hart, the fourth generation of Hart men to practice law. "I was prepared. I love my job. I'm comfortable in a courtroom, but I don't make anything or heal people. When I come home and I see my animals welcome me, I feel calm."
Copyright 1997 Plain Dealer Publishing Co.
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