A mother opossum is crossing a highway and is hit by a car; its babies are left on the side of the road. You slow to a stop. What can you do?

If you live anywhere in West Virginia, you can take them to the Point of View Farm, where Joel Rosenthal will take care of those babies until they're ready to go off on their own. In fact, the Point of View farm is pretty much the only place in West Virginia that will do that.

"Technically," says Rosenthal, "it's illegal for people to pick up wildlife, and that would include babies. But the agreement I have with the state of West Virginia is that when people pick up an animal to bring it to me, I make them my agent, and as an agent of me they are protected in regards to their desires for what's best for the animal." We'll get to how that agreement came about shortly, but first, let's talk about Rosenthal and his farm.

Joel Rosenthal has been rescuing injured animals since he was a youngster; his father had built him cages in which he could shelter those animals. Later he became a biologist with the National Institute of Health. After that career, he retired to a small farm in Maryland, where he rescued birds, goats, and deer.

But Rosenthal wanted more. He bought his own property in extremely rural West Virginia and lived there in a log cabin for eight years while he built all the structures he thought he'd need. In 2000, he established Point of View Farm as a nonprofit organization. The farm includes an eight-acre island in a river, open meadows, forests, 20 ponds, streams, mountains, a wetland, and about six miles of hiking trails. The only way to get to the farm is to cross a river. Rosenthal travels 20 miles to the nearest town a few times a month to get supplies—for himself and for all the animals under his care.

What sorts of animals? Name it: Birds of all kinds, including bald eagles, as well as bears, bobcats, deer, coyotes, foxes, river otters, beavers, and anything else that makes West Virginia its home. Rosenthal works with them 24/7, 365 days a year.

And now we come to the problems with the State of West Virginia. In 2005, some hunters brought Rosenthal a fawn that had nearly drowned; they suspected the fawn was an orphan. Rosenthal rehabilitated the fawn and released it back into the wild, but the state's Division of Natural Resources accused him of illegally harboring wildlife.

Rosenthal was incensed. Rather than hire a lawyer, he read up on every possible legal maneuver and historical case he could find. "No matter how long it took," he said, "no matter what it took, I was going to demonstrate that what I did was legal." The case worked its way up through the West Virginia Supreme Court and the U.S. District Court. Almost five years after he was charged, Rosenthal won a total victory.

"I now have a document . . . which is in essence a contract with the State of West Virginia, that states that I can take care of any animal that is found in West Virginia, right here at Point Of View Farm." Rosenthal wrote a book about his experience, calling it Bambi and the Supremes.

Now in his 70s, Joel Rosenthal is at peace with his animal companions/patients/friends, much more at peace than he is with humans, which he readily acknowledges: "When I run across the river, I run into these two-legged animals wearing clothes and they make funny noises and they scare me. So I come running over here because I really don't know what to do with those kinds of animals. I'm much more used to the four-legged kind."

"If it all ends tomorrow," he says, "I will have a smile on my face. My 'Bucket List' has not only been filled, but overflows every day."