Laurie Hood’s Wild Vision: How One Girl’s Petition Sparked a Sanctuary
No Animal Left Behind!
No Animal Left Behind!
When Laurie Hood was about eight years old, she discovered that some kids in her Louisiana neighborhood were shooting songbirds with their BB guns.
“I was just horrified,” she recalled.
So, she did what any compassionate, animal-loving elementary school kid would: She wrote a petition and went door-to-door, asking her neighbors to sign it.
“I took it to the kids’ parents and told them the neighborhood didn’t want the songbirds being killed.”
Hood, now 58, shared the story with amusement at her 100-acre, one-of-a-kind, no-kill animal refuge in Freeport, Florida. “It cracks me up that I did that.”

In a few days, she and a group of supporters were headed to Tallahassee to testify against allowing bear hunting in the state.
Alaqua Animal Refuge began on an eight-acre plot across the street from Hood’s house. Now, at its new location, it houses up to 450 animals at a time, including dogs, cats, horses, tortoises, goats, emus, pigs, and parrots. The facility includes a visitor center, hospital, space for field trips and birthday parties, and a covered arena for special events such as dog training, farmers’ markets, and concerts. There is even a bird aviary set to open soon.
More than 45 people, including a full-time veterinarian and an animal trainer, are employed here, with another 400 serving as volunteers.
Its operating budget, funded exclusively through donations, has reached $350,000 a month, primarily for animal care.
“When I hit $10,000 a month at the beginning, I thought, oh my God, what am I going to do? And now look. It’s just crazy.”

Alaqua’s modest beginnings stemmed from an unexpected turn of events. During both of her pregnancies, which were about 16 months apart, Hood was on complete bed rest, meaning she wasn’t even supposed to walk. To prevent early labor, she took medication through an IV every four hours and threw-up every four hours, even in her sleep. “I was stir crazy, to say the least,” she said. After her second son was born and she could move again, she strapped one kid to her back, one to her front, and began working her small farm.
It was during this time, around 2007, that she befriended her nanny’s dog, a Border Collie, who would accompany her and her boys to work on the farm. When the dog was tragically hit by a car on a nearby highway, Hood decided to look for another she could rescue from a shelter. She found a county website with some fuzzy pet photos, one of which resembled the dog she wanted. She called repeatedly but got no answer.
When she finally got someone on the line, they told her that lost or abandoned animals were taken to a private facility in another county. She asked if she could visit the facility.
What she found was shocking.
The “facility” was an old chicken coop in someone’s backyard. Animals from seven counties were sent there, held for three to five days as required by state law, then euthanized.
“We were living in this area with all that wealth and prosperity along 30A, and the dirty little secret was that we had a 100 percent euthanasia rate for seven counties. That’s just insane. When you find something like that out, you can’t unknow it.”
She found the Border Collie, along with her eight puppies, in a cage marked for euthanasia and asked how she could take them home. She was told the facility wasn’t open to the public, but if she worked with a rescue group, she could take any animals she wanted.
So Hood did what any animal-loving woman in her thirties would do. She went home that night, got on her computer, and started a company named Alaqua Animal Refuge, named after her little farm.
“And I brought the paperwork into the place. They laughed at me and said, ‘Take whatever you want.’”
Hood took 34 animals home that day. The Border Collie mother, named Sugar, passed away recently.
Hood had no experience building, but with her sons by her side and help from her nanny, they hammered together pens for the animals using chicken wire and wooden boards.
“And my husband couldn’t tell me no because I’d just been in bed for three years,” she joked.

As word spread about the little shelter on Alaqua Bayou, sheriff’s deputies began reaching out to Hood when they encountered neglected animals during a call. She began seeing animals that had been dragged behind cars, shot, or severely abused. “And I started thinking, What’s happening to the people who did this?”
That’s when she learned that not a single animal cruelty case had ever been prosecuted in Walton County or in any of the surrounding counties.
At the state attorney’s office, she learned that sheriff’s deputies had no training in handling animal cruelty evidence. So, Hood developed a training program and offered it free of charge to sheriff’s offices across five counties. The program was later offered statewide.
Today, Hood’s team can accompany the sheriff’s department to assist with hoarding or animal cruelty cases. They document evidence and provide medical exams at no cost. When officers come across animal cruelty or neglect, they now know exactly who to call.
“I have all the deputies on speed dial,” Hood said.
The Alaqua team has become the local expert on animal cruelty. They provide shelter and care for some of the worst cases of neglect and abuse in Northwest Florida. They sometimes come across starving goats or dying pigs, cases of severe neglect that go beyond typical pet abuse.
“You can’t leave those animals behind,” Hood said. “We quickly learned how to take in all species.”
If there’s a need, Hood and the Alaqua team will do everything they can to find a way. Over the years, they’ve taken in more than 200 dogs from a single hoarding case, 21 starving horses, and numerous dying pigs. When no one else in the state stepped up during Hurricane Milton, Alaqua became the staging ground for hundreds of shelter animals that had to be evacuated from the storm’s potential path.
And this is how Hood’s effort to rescue abandoned pets from euthanasia evolved into an operation with a monthly budget of hundreds of thousands of dollars. It’s costly work that also requires significant space.
In 2013, the late conservation philanthropist M.C. Davis and his wife Stella—who had become close friends of Hood—donated the land for Alaqua’s current location, expanding its footprint tenfold.
Last year, the refuge completed the rigorous process of becoming one of the few animal sanctuaries internationally recognized by the Global Federation of Animal Sanctuaries. The prestigious honor is a testament to the care and dedication the team has invested in developing the center.

Today, Hood’s work has expanded beyond the refuge. She is a board member of the Florida Wildlife Federation and the state director for the federal lobbying group Animal Wellness Action. Her sons have both left for college, but she is far from an empty nester. She has about 100 animals of her own.
With her vision, the refuge is expected to continue to grow for many years as funding becomes available. Currently, only half of the 100 acres is under development, but Hood already has plans for the back half. She hopes to open a wildlife sanctuary for native species that cannot be released back into the wild. Other plans include an educational center, public events, and a restaurant. Ultimately, she envisions drawing enough visitors to charge admission and become self-sustaining.
Hood said she has never seen anything else like what Alaqua is building.
“I know when you’re visiting now, it’s really cool, but in my mind, the vision I have, it’s not there yet; not even close,” she said. “I see this as an alternative to a zoo. An animal refuge theme park. That’s what I call it, for lack of a better term.”
Hood and the team at Alaqua are striving to do the best they can for the animals under their care. Still, the need is greater. She said they receive more than 100 requests every day to take in animals that they cannot accommodate. She hopes to build something that others can look to as an example.
“I figured this is the way we can really do more. We can show people what we’ve learned the hard way. We can empower others to do the work we’re doing and, in turn, help even more animals and people.”

Sometimes the best ideas are the simplest. Years ago, the team at The 30A Company started giving away their now-famous round blue stickers—little badges promoting the “beach happy” life—at local businesses. They were free for the taking, but beside each stack they also placed a donation box for Alaqua Animal Refuge, Walton County’s beloved no-kill shelter.
It didn’t take long for the idea to catch on. Visitors grabbed a sticker as a keepsake of their time at the beach. Locals proudly displayed them on cars, coolers, and paddleboards, and in the process, donations began to pour in. Volunteers often found the boxes filled to the brim, a powerful show of generosity from both tourists and the local community. Since that time, 30A stickers have been spotted atop Mount Everest, at the bottom of the ocean, in Afghanistan, and in countless other far-flung corners of the world. Of course, you also see them proudly displayed on cars across the entire country—a sunny little reminder of the beach and the good that comes from giving back.
For Alaqua, the contributions have helped provide food, medical care, and rehabilitation for hundreds of homeless, abused, and neglected animals every year.
“At 30A, we’re proud to support Alaqua Animal Refuge and the incredible work they do right here in Walton County,” said JoAnn Ribaudo, CEO of The 30A Company.
“The refuge holds a special place in my heart. Our beloved dog Fenway was a foster fail from Alaqua, who became part of our family for 13 wonderful years. Through our 30A sticker sales, we’re honored to help raise funds that continue to fuel Alaqua’s mission of rescue, compassion, and second chances.”
“It’s partnerships like these that prove simple ideas can have a huge impact,” said Hood. “We are forever grateful for the kindness and generosity that has allowed us to help so many animals over the years.”