When the Heart’s Tired But the Work Won’t Wait || Avoiding Burnout & Compassion Fatigue in the Animal Care Industry

Let me start with this…If you’ve ever sat in your car at the end of a shift, dirty, sore, emotionally raw and questioning your entire career choice, while staring at the steering wheel like it holds all the answers, and trying to decide if it’s burnout or just another Tuesday, you’re not alone. Welcome to the gritty, glorious, heartbreaking, life-affirming world of animal care.

How do I know this? Because I’ve lived it. There was a time not so long ago when I found myself stuck in what felt like an eternal loop, wake, work, collapse, repeat. I didn’t have the words for it at the time, but looking back, I can now admit it was burnout, and probably a bit of depression too. The spark I once had for this work was flickering…actually, in all honestly it was probably barely alive. Everything felt like too much and not enough, all at once. Even outside of work, I couldn’t switch off, I’d spend hours at home on the computer, my head constantly spinning with training plans, behaviour goals, enrichment schedules, management tweaks. The only thing that kept me going was the animals. Always the animals.

So…How do we recognise it?…

Burnout and compassion fatigue don’t always show up waving a red flag. Sometimes they creep in slowly, disguised as just another bad day. Maybe you feel chronically exhausted no matter how much sleep you get. Maybe you’ve started dreading work, the tasks, the people, even the animals. You might feel numb where you used to feel joy, or weepy at things that never used to shake you. Maybe your patience is razor-thin, or you’re forgetting things you never used to. For me, it was the quiet dissociation that scared me most, that sense of just going through the motions, like I was outside my own body. If any of this feels familiar, please know that it’s not just you. And more importantly, it’s not a weakness. It’s a signal.

We don’t do this work because it’s easy. We do it because it calls to something deeper in us, something primal and persistent. Whether you’re syringe-feeding an injured lorikeet, or standing in the pouring rain fixing a busted fence while your feet squelch in your boots, this job demands everything...and then some! And yes, it’s also the job that fills your phone with photos of poo nuggets, vomit, badly rolled hoses, half-eaten feeds, and the occasional suspicious rash. Glamorous? Hardly. But those gross little snapshots are proof of how much invisible work goes into keeping animals alive, healthy and thriving!

But even the most passionate hearts have limits, and if you’re not careful, burnout and compassion fatigue can sneak in and smother that spark you’ve worked so hard to keep alive.

So, how do we protect the parts of ourselves that give so deeply? How do we keep showing up, fully, whole-heartedly, without falling to pieces in the process?

1. Know the difference between tired and depleted

There’s a difference between needing a nap and needing a total life reset. Tired is physical. Depletion is soul-deep. If you’re finding yourself snapping at coworkers, crying over spilled diets, or feeling nothing (or everything) after a tough euthanasia, your emotional reserves might be running dangerously low. Pay attention. That numbness isn’t strength; it’s survival mode.

2. Set boundaries like your life depends on it (because it does)

You can’t pour from an empty cup, and no, that’s not just a good Pinterest quote. It’s science. Just because you can stay late, cover the shift, or take on that aggressive case doesn’t mean you should. Say no. Rest. Let someone else pick up the slack once in a while. The animals need you whole, not hollowed out.

3. Build rituals that restore

Not routines. Rituals. Things that feel sacred to you. Morning coffee alone in the aviary. Five minutes of slow breathing in the back of the barn. Screaming into your pillow after a long day (hey, no judgment here). These aren’t indulgences. They’re survival tools. Make them non-negotiable.

4. Connect with your “why”, frequently

You didn’t get into this work because you wanted to make millions or win at office politics. You came because animals make sense in a world that often doesn’t. Reconnect with that. Go sit with your favourite kangaroo. Watch your birds settle into their nest boxes. Groom the horse that reminds you of your first pony. Let the quiet moments remind you what you’re doing this for. It’s still there, beneath the deadlines, the procedures and the protocols…the exhaustion…it’s just waiting for you to notice.

5. Talk to people who get it

There’s nothing lonelier than burnout in an industry that runs on compassion. Find your people. Vent, cry, cuss, laugh with them. This is a world that can chew you up and spit you out if you don’t have a circle who’ll help you pick your pieces up and glue them back together with coffee, memes, and shared trauma.

6. Let it be enough

You won’t save them all and you will never have enough resources. That’s the hardest truth of this work. But you will make a difference. One penguin with bumblefoot who can walk again. One angry parrot that finally trusts you. One old lion that gets to pass peacefully, full belly and sunshine on his face. Let that be enough.

7. Acknowledge the emotional toll of a silent language

Animals don’t speak English, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t constantly communicating. Our job is to listen to what they’re saying without words. The tilt of an ear. The twitch of a tail. The subtle flicker of uncertainty in their eyes. It’s exhausting trying to constantly decode those signals, especially when you feel like you’re constantly translating from a language with no dictionary. But it matters. And it takes a toll. Honor that work, it’s hard, invisible, and so, so vital.

8. We are constantly doing more with less

So, let’s talk resources, or more often than not, lack thereof. Understaffed, underfunded, overstretched. Most days it feels like you’re expected to be a vet, a behaviorist, a cleaner, a construction worker, a PR rep, and a therapist, all rolled into one. You’re not imagining it. The system is broken in many places, and the burden often falls on those who care the most. It’s okay to feel angry about that. It’s okay to say it’s not fair. You can love the animals and still want better for yourself and your team.

And last but definitely not lest!…Here’s the hard truth. Most institutions, no matter how well-intentioned, will keep going if you burn out. They’ll mourn you for a moment, shuffle the roster, and hire the next person in line. That’s not cruelty, it’s just the nature of systems and of keeping the business running. But this is exactly why you can’t give your whole self away. Your heart, your health, and your life outside of work matter more than any shift, deadline, or animal count. The animals need you steady and whole, not broken and running on fumes. Protect yourself first, because the institution won’t do it for you.

Just remember, your heart is your greatest asset in this work, but it’s also the most vulnerable. Treat it with the same care, respect, and gentleness you offer every creature that crosses your path.

You’re not weak for needing rest. You’re not broken for feeling too much. You’re human, and a damn extraordinary one at that.

So take the break. Ask for help. And when you’re ready, come back. The animals, and the world, still need you.

With a life-time of muddy boots and a full heart,

Mel

Founder, WildStride Animal Solutions