Sonny was a problem. He threw telephone poles at people. At every opportunity, he ran away from home and wreaked havoc.
By the time he was 10, his legal guardians had thrown up their hands in despair. His future was less than bleak. It was in doubt.
The three-ton African elephant was branded a rogue. Sonny faced that well- known euphemism: He was to be put to sleep.
But at the eleventh hour, things took a turn for the better. The lethal needle that bore his name went back into the drawer. And Sonny was on his way to what may be the nation's only home for wayward and orphaned pets: The Associated Humane Societies' Popcorn Park Zoo in the heart of the Pine Barrens.
"There's no other zoo like it. We've had donors from all over the world," said Douglas Barnes, the zoo's director of development, during a tour last week of the eight acres occupied by lions, a tiger, bears, Sonny and more.
The zoo shelters more than 200 down-on-their-luck animals. Its annual $1.5 million budget is raised through private donations and through ticket sales at the zoo.
No one in the Humane Society set out to establish a home for troubled animals. The organization purchased the Lacey Township land for a dog and cat pound in 1976. But before long, they were presented with a maimed raccoon that couldn't fend for itself in the wild. So they built a pen.
And then people started bringing in abandoned fawns and full-grown crippled deer that had been hit by cars. Easter presents that had grown up into unwanted ducks and roosters found their way to the 8-acre refuge.
So they built more pens. And duck ponds. And chicken roosts.
In 1977, the animal-advocacy group formally accepted its fate and established Popcorn Park Zoo as a home for sick, handicapped, injured or elderly animals with no other place to live. The zoo takes its name from the low-calorie snack visitors feed to the uncaged hoofed and web-footed residents.
While Sonny is the newest and most visible resident with a hard-luck story, he is in no way alone. A walk down the zoo's sandy paths turns up a vast collection of stories, some sad, some tragic, some humorous.
"This is Marlboro the Goat," Barnes said, introducing a strange-looking black and brown goat that came running up to panhandle for popcorn. Marlboro has a dramatic hump in his neck that makes him appear to be some combination of goat and camel.
"He was the victim of an attempted cult sacrifice in Marlboro Township," Barnes said. "His neck was almost completely cut off."
