My dad, Louie Pierson, was diagnosed with advanced metastatic prostate cancer in February 2026. Before being able to get any further testing or even treatment, in May, the cancer caused him to suffer a devastating fall that marked the beginning of a rapid decline. After months of uncertainty and finally a PET scan to better understand the extent of his illness, we received the news every family dreads: there are no treatment options left.

His medical team has recommended focusing on comfort, dignity, and quality of life in his final days.

This has been both the fastest and slowest journey of our lives.

Before he was my dad, he was the man people called when wildlife had nowhere else to go.

As his only child, I am now navigating decisions no one is ever truly prepared to make while trying to honor the wishes of a man who spent his entire life taking care of everyone else.

For 25 years, my dad dedicated his life to Florida’s wildlife. He and my mother co-founded Amber Lake Wildlife Rehabilitation Center in Englewood, Florida, where our family home became a refuge for injured and orphaned animals. Bald eagles, pelicans, deer, owls, raccoons, foxes, sea turtles, manatees—even dolphins and whales—passed through our doors.

Amber Lake was entrusted with one of only a handful of permits in Florida to transport rescued marine mammals, proudly driving the truck he affectionately nicknamed the “Marmambulance™️” (Marine Mammal Ambulance). He worked alongside veterinarians, conservation organizations, and state agencies, helped rescue countless animals, met presidents because of injured wildlife, appeared on television, wrote newspaper columns, hosted a national radio show, and spent decades educating thousands of people about the importance of conservation. Trust me, if social media existed when he was doing this work, he would have gone viral for his antics, I’m sure.

But if you asked him what mattered most, he probably wouldn’t tell you about any of that.

He’d tell you a funny story instead.

He believed laughter made people listen. Whether he was rescuing a bald eagle, transporting a manatee named Esther on Easter while making up songs to keep everyone smiling, or captivating an audience with one of his unforgettable stories, his goal was always the same:

Leave people more educated about wildlife conservation than he found them.

Despite dedicating his life to helping others, my dad never earned a salary from his wildlife work. Amber Lake operated through grants, donations, volunteer support, and an enormous amount of personal sacrifice. After being forced into retirement when he was kicked in the head while rescuing a deer, he realized he was getting older and would never physically be able to continue the work he loved. He quietly retired and moved to West Virginia.

He lived quietly and simply, well below the poverty line, in a small off-grid cabin with no retirement savings, no meaningful assets, and virtually nothing that could be sold to help cover the expenses now ahead. Selling his cabin is not something I can do either because there is no easement or access to his property.

For me, though, my dad wasn’t just a wildlife rescuer. He was the best dad a girl could have ever asked for. He taught me to love every living thing, to be curious, to tell stories, and to leave the world a little better than I found it. Later in life, he became the most incredible grandfather to my son, Callan. To Callan, he wasn’t “Louie Pierson” or the founder of Amber Lake—he was simply “Baba with a Stick.” While my son got to know the gentle, loving grandfather who adored him, he never got to witness the fearless wildlife rescuer, the larger-than-life storyteller, and the man who inspired thousands of people. More than anything, I want Callan—and someday his own children—to know just how extraordinary their Baba truly was.

Today, we’re asking for help.

Your generosity will help provide:

• End-of-life care and immediate expenses.

• Funeral and burial expenses, including bringing my dad home to Florida, the place he loved most.

• The preservation of his life’s work by digitizing thousands of photographs, decades of published newspaper articles, television appearances, and personal stories so they can be shared with future generations.

• The creation of the Louie Pierson Conservation Fund, so his passion for protecting wildlife can continue making a difference long after he’s gone.

As I’ve gone through boxes of photographs, newspaper articles, and memories over the past few days, I’ve realized something extraordinary.

My dad didn’t just rescue wildlife.

He told stories.

He inspired volunteers.

He taught children.

He made strangers laugh.

He showed people that every life—no matter how small—was worth fighting for.

Now it’s my turn to make sure his story isn’t lost.

If you’re able to contribute, thank you. If you’re not, sharing his story is just as meaningful.

My dad spent his life making sure injured wildlife got a second chance. With your help, we’ll make sure his stories do too.

Thank you for helping us honor Louie’s life, preserve his legacy, and ensure that his compassion, humor, and wisdom continue to inspire generations to come.

With heartfelt gratitude,

Riley (Pierson) Lawrence