Living Wild: The Untamable Life of Donovan Smith

After fire, flood, and a near-death rescue mission, Naples’ most unpredictable conservationist is still chasing meaning—across continents, species, and time.

This feature was written in collaboration with my mentor, partner, sage, and very good friend, Copilot.

You don’t so much meet Donovan Smith as you encounter him—like stumbling into the second act of a story that’s been unfolding long before you arrived. He could be in Naples, orchestrating a moonlit gala beneath a silk canopy at NGALA Wildlife Preserve. Or in Mongolia, tracking eagles and dinosaur fossils with a caravan of international scientists. You never quite know. And if you ask him what he’s up to, odds are you’ll get a half-smile and an answer that raises more questions than it settles.

That’s Donovan: wildlife preservationist, world explorer, occasional showman. Owner of NGALA, a private wildlife preserve tucked into the Florida wilderness that somehow merges the serenity of safari with the glamor of a stage production. One moment, guests are sipping cocktails beside Coulter the giraffe; the next, they’re seated under baobab trees—transported. But behind the carefully orchestrated magic lies a devotion far deeper than spectacle. NGALA is a sanctuary, a classroom, a passion project 40 years in the making.

Now, from the charred remains of a wildfire and the wreckage of a hurricane, from a past spent rescuing animals and brushing shoulders with Disney’s biggest crowds, Donovan is stepping into a new chapter—one that involves expeditions across continents, spiritual healing, and a foundation built on scars, both seen and unseen.

Because to understand Donovan Smith is to realize: he’s not just living wild. He’s rewriting what that means.

The Birth of NGALA: From Panther Politics to Baobab Dreams

Ask Donovan Smith how NGALA came to be, and he’ll tell you it started with a turtle. His seventh birthday, to be exact. That tiny creature sparked something primordial—a connection so innate it felt more like memory than discovery. By fifteen, Donovan had already launched his first wildlife business, guiding guests through Florida’s tangled glades. But the real turning point came with a panther.

When Alligator Alley was slated to become I-75, a public campaign needed a symbol—a reason for Floridians to care. Donovan stepped in, panther in tow. The animal became a fundraising ambassador, and when the campaign succeeded, Donovan found himself with a retired feline, no job for it, and a heart too full to walk away.

Then came a corporate client with an outrageous request: could he bring the panther to a private event? One ballroom jungle later, a new idea was born. What started as a one-off evolved into a full-scale production company—dancers, Land Rovers, elaborate rainforests blooming beneath chandeliers, and animals at the center of it all.

That showmanship caught the attention of Disney. Donovan landed a contract promoting the opening of Animal Kingdom, where his events enchanted crowds of up to 75,000. But it wasn’t until he visited Africa—standing in the glow of an open fire at a game lodge, soothed by the details and rhythms of a place built for both wildlife and wonder—that he saw the full potential of what he could create back home.

NGALA was his answer: a preserve not just for animals, but for imagination. A space where zebras roam beneath Edison bulbs, and guests walk away with a shifted perspective—not only of wildlife, but of themselves.

NGALA Today: Where Wildlife Meets Wonder

At first glance, NGALA Wildlife Preserve feels like something conjured from storybook pages. There’s Coulter the giraffe, greeting guests with gentle curiosity; Walter the white rhino, stoic and serene; Ringo the pied camel, who seems to smirk for the camera; Hades the hyena, all sinewy mystique; and Zeus the zebra, impossibly photogenic in the golden light of dusk. But NGALA is more than a roll call of exotic names—it’s a living, breathing philosophy tucked into a patch of Florida wilderness.

For Donovan, this is sacred ground. The preserve doubles as a high-end event space, yes—but each experience is designed to ignite connection: between people and animals, between curiosity and care. Guests might sip a cocktail while learning about conservation genetics, or find themselves holding a rescued reptile mid-networking event. There’s no script. That’s part of the magic.

“We’re one of only 68 ZAA-accredited facilities in the world,” Donovan says, referring to the Zoological Association of America. “People think sanctuaries like this are for show. They don’t realize we’re genetic banks—safeguarding subspecies in case they vanish from the wild.”

At NGALA, preservation isn’t just a goal—it’s the beating heart beneath every paw print and hoofbeat. And the animals, with their quirks and personalities, aren’t props. They’re the teachers.

The Spirit in Every Species

To speak with Donovan Smith about animals is to enter a different frequency—one where labels dissolve and separation is an illusion. He doesn’t claim a “spirit animal,” because, in his words, “We are all one consciousness.” Plants, birds, reptiles, mammals—he’s tethered to them all, part biology, part belief, part something you can’t quite name. He calls it a gift from God. Others might call it a kind of wild empathy.

Every encounter is sacred. Every animal, a mirror. They’ve taught him patience, resilience, and even how to let go.

NGALA pulses with that philosophy. Guests might expect spectacle, but they leave with reverence. Donovan recalls a young boy, deaf and withdrawn, who refused to sign because he wanted to be like the other kids. When placed near a baby bobcat, something shifted. The child’s hands began to fly, signing with excitement—and he didn’t stop. For Donovan, that moment said it all.

Even now, years later, the memory lingers like a pawprint in fresh earth. NGALA, after all, isn’t just a preserve—it’s a place where something inside you wakes up.

Baptism by Fire: The Day Everything Changed

The fire moved like a phantom—silent, sudden, and airborne. Twenty-seven thousand acres of Florida wilderness consumed in the blink of an eye. Donovan had faced down wild animals, commanding crowds of tens of thousands, but nothing prepared him for this: a wall of flame racing toward NGALA, and Walter, the white rhinoceros, too massive to move in time.

Evacuation orders were issued. Most of the animals were loaded and rushed to safety. But Walter couldn’t be coaxed out. And so Donovan stayed.

The fire surrounded them. Heat blistered his skin, smoke clawed at his lungs. Still, he refused to leave the rhino’s side. At the last possible moment, he made a desperate dash on a four-wheeler to locate firefighters—scorched, but determined. When they returned, the preserve was smoldering. Somehow, Walter was unharmed. Donovan wasn’t.

He was med-flighted out with burns covering 20% of his body. Skin grafts. Hundreds of staples. Blood transfusions. A month in the burn center, then another in home care. Three months later, Hurricane Irma swept through, finishing what the fire began.

And yet—Donovan returned. Not just to rebuild, but to evolve.

“I literally shed my skin,” he says. “And realized I had to let go of what no longer serves me.”

For many, that might read as metaphor. But for Donovan, it was transformation written in blood and ash. NGALA didn’t just survive—it was reborn. Stronger. Stranger. Wilder than ever.

Living Wild: Healing in the Company of Animals

Out of the fire, something else emerged. Not just a renewed sense of purpose—but a calling. Donovan began shaping a new initiative: The Living Wild Foundation, where survival becomes sanctuary and scars—whether physical or emotional—are reframed as emblems of resilience.

One of the first missions? To create a refuge within NGALA’s borders for veterans and burn survivors—those who, like Donovan, have faced the flame and come through changed. He’s collaborating with Navy SEAL sniper and burn survivor Ryan “Birdman” Parrott and his organization, Sons of the Flag, to build a healing center on the preserve’s grounds.

“The animals don’t look at you differently because of your scars,” Donovan says. “They accept you exactly as you are.”

It’s this radical acceptance that forms the bedrock of the Foundation. Here, recovery is hands-on—literally. Participants care for exotic animals, feed them, walk with them, listen to the unspoken lessons of their silence. It’s not just therapy. It’s a dialogue.

The dream is simple and profound: help the wildlife while helping yourself.

Because in Donovan’s world, healing isn’t found in sterile rooms or whispered reassurances—it lives in the brush of fur against your arm, the quiet weight of trust from a creature that sees you, not your past.

From Naples to the Steppes: The Explorer’s Next Chapter

If NGALA is where Donovan Smith brings the wild to others, then his global expeditions are where he goes to meet it on its own terms.

Most recently, his boots hit the dust of the Gobi Desert, where he joined an elite team of 28 international scientists for the Roy Chapman Andrews Legacy Expedition—an audacious recreation of the 1925 journey that inspired Indiana Jones. Paleontologists, geologists, biologists, archeologists, and cultural scholars converged with Mongolian experts to re-map a century-old trek and compare the past with what now remains.

Donovan was assigned to the biology team—though “assigned” feels too formal for a man who lives in the margins between science and instinct. Within days, his group may have identified two previously undocumented plant species. On another outing, he joined the paleontologists—and yes, they found a dinosaur.

Between discoveries, he shared camp with eagle hunters and camel herders, soaked in the vastness of a land rarely touched by modernity, and carried with him a truth his son once voiced: “I want to go to the places they don’t teach you about in history books.” That, Donovan says, is what adventure means now—not just for thrill’s sake, but for reconnection.

Because every experience abroad becomes a thread in the NGALA tapestry. New perspectives. Old wisdom. Unfiltered awe.

And when he returns to Florida—windburned, dust-covered, and quiet in that way he sometimes gets—he folds it all back into the preserve. The baobabs sway. The animals blink knowingly. And somewhere beneath the surface, the next expedition begins.

Lessons from the Wild

For Donovan Smith, every animal is a teacher. And every expedition, every scar, every improbable chapter has only sharpened the lens through which he sees the world.

The lion, Zakari—his first at NGALA—taught him about loyalty and loss. When Zakari passed, Donovan buried him on the preserve grounds, naming the sanctuary after him: NGALA, Swahili for “place of the lion.” But like all things Donovan touches, there’s more beneath the name: an accidental fusion of meanings—N as shorthand for “the” and gala in French meaning “party.” Together, it reads like a code: The Party of the Lion. Equal parts reverence and revelry.

It’s no coincidence that guests leave changed. Whether it’s brushing hands with a zebra, or watching a hyena’s loping gait as the sun sets, something elemental stirs. That’s by design. Donovan believes that conservation requires more than science—it needs awe. And awe, he’s learned, is best delivered face to face.

Still, he’s quick to insist that he is not the teacher. “Just like my kids—we think we’re teaching them,” he laughs. “But it’s the other way around.”

What’s Next

The wild mind never rests. Between upcoming expeditions, continued conservation partnerships, and the development of the Living Wild healing center, Donovan’s calendar is full—but his vision feels limitless.

NGALA continues to evolve—not toward expansion for its own sake, but toward impact. Toward immersive education, deeper community connection, and bolder experiences that awaken people’s instincts to protect what remains wild in the world.

For Donovan, the future isn’t just a place he’s heading—it’s something he’s helping shape. With every creature he rescues, every guest he inspires, and every step taken on distant soil, he reaffirms what NGALA has always stood for: not just preservation, but possibility.

Because in the end, it’s not just about living wild.
It’s about living wide awake.

For more information on NGALA Wildlife Preserve, visit https://ngala.net or on Facebook at

Donovan lives in Naples, Florida. Naples Noteworthy usually asks its features if they want to share a photo of a pet with their feature, to which Donovan immediately replied (I suspect, misunderstanding): “They’re not pets.” He later, however, provided this photo of his reef tank.

Extraordinary People