Kovu, the fursona of Furcationland chairperson Kevin Breslin, at last year’s convention. Photo by Patrick Higgins

Do you love seeing Slugger the Sea Dog emerge at baseball games, meeting Disney characters like Goofy on trips to the Magic Kingdom or rewatching animated classics like “The Lion King”?

You might be a furry.

“Everybody’s a little bit furry. It’s just a matter of whether they want to say,” said Kevin Breslin, chairperson of the Furcationland convention, happening this week in Portland.

What that means, at its core, is being a fan of anthropomorphic animal characters. Beyond that, most furries develop their own character (or more than one), called a “fursona,” that they embody when chatting with other furries online or attending conventions. Dressing up in costume, or fursuits, is part of it for some — if you can afford it — but don’t confuse it with being attracted to animals or identifying as a different species, requiring litter boxes and the like.

Those are among the misconceptions about the subculture, known as furry fandom, along with it primarily being a sexual fetish or even a psychological disorder. It’s a hobby, akin to the followings around comic books, anime and “Star Trek,” explained Breslin, 34, and Cooper Mowry, 27, sitting in the lounge of the Holiday Inn By The Bay, where the convention is happening Thursday through Sunday.

Not only is the hobby not “adult” in nature, they said, it’s becoming more popular with kids, and Furcationland aims to be particularly family-friendly, with no alcohol served and events scheduled during the day.

“The community dies if you only cater to the older crowd,” said Breslin, who lives in Long Island, New York, but is planning to move to Maine — a place he’s grown fond of since he was tapped to help start the convention in Portland because of his expertise running others. Mowry, who lives in Kennebunk, is the convention’s local liaison.

Furries gather for a photo during the Monument Square Menagerie as part of last year’s Furcationland convention. The event happens again at 1:30 p.m. Saturday. Photo by Patrick Higgins

This is Furcationland’s third year, and the theme is “Fuzzytown Fair.” For registered attendees (paying admission starting at $70.75 for all four days), events and attractions in the hotel, to name a few, include a dance competition, balloon twisting class, game room and writers’ slam, as well as artists whom attendees can pay to draw their character. Creativity, expressed through performance and artwork depicting fursonas, is a big part of the furry culture.

At 1:30 p.m. Saturday, weather permitting, the convention will spill out of the hotel into downtown Portland for the Monument Square Menagerie, where anyone can come interact and take photos with furries. That will be followed by the Free Street Fair, also open to the public, from 3-6 p.m. in the parking lot by the former children’s museum, with lawn games, food trucks, live music and a car show that will continue until 8 p.m. (Furries often form groups within the community around other common interests, and cars is a big one, as is gaming.)

The first year, Furcationland attendance was expected to be around 400; 882 people showed up. Last year, that grew to over 1,200, and this year, they’re projecting around 1,500.

“It has become more mainstream. Conventions have gotten bigger,” Mowry said, with TikTok helping to drive interest.

@kovuthehusky

Raised $10,510 for charity at furpoc2022! ?️‍??️‍⚧️ Happy #fursuitfriday everyone! ?? #furries #furry #furryfandom #fursuit #nyc #fyp ? @camwuff ? @morefurless

♬ Kirby’s Dream Land (Green Greens Theme) [From “Kirby’s Dreamland”] – Video Game Players

Because interaction is largely based online, with Telegram serving as the primary platform, it’s hard to quantify the size of Maine’s furry community, and the increasing popularity of Furcationland isn’t necessarily an indicator of its growth either, since it attracts people from all over the country and beyond. Some furries will travel anywhere for a convention, while others tend to stick to ones within driving distance. A quarter to a third of attendees will have at least the head of a fursuit, if not the whole thing.

For Breslin, whose fursona is a husky named Kovu, getting a fursuit by his 30th birthday was the goal. While you can pay less by hiring someone who is new to the trade, Breslin shelled out $10,000 for a well-known maker from California to create the blue and green dog costume, which he wears at events and when making TikTok videos.

Breslin said a fursona is often an expression of part of someone’s personality or one they’d like to have. He chose a husky because the breed is known for having a chipper disposition.

“I’m just myself, but I’m a little more playful and bubbly in my suit,” he said.

Mowry, whose fursona, Stoli, is also a husky, said it can help people feel more comfortable in social interactions.

“You don’t have to worry what your expression is,” he said about being in costume.

A 2024 Furcationland attendee. Photo by Patrick Higgins

That might partly explain why there’s a higher prevalence of autism among furries than the general population. More furries also identify as LGBTQ+, according to Furscience, the public face of the International Anthropomorphic Research Project, which studies furry fandom.

Mowry said, growing up as a queer kid in Maine, he felt a longing to figure out where he belonged. A fan of Disney movies, he found the furry community online.

“I think it’s about the freedom to be yourself,” he said.

While Mowry doesn’t advertise his hobby among, say, his colleagues, he said he doesn’t tend to offer up much about his personal life at work. Breslin, who volunteers full-time organizing furry events (supported by his husband, a software engineer), said people used to feel like they had to “come out as a furry,” but that’s not the case anymore.

Furcationland has found the Portland community welcoming to the convention, with many restaurants and bars happy to have an influx of paying customers, and organizers try to identify those ahead of time.

“Some businesses are excited; some don’t want your 6-foot-long fake tail,” said Mowry, who understands why.

As far as the general reaction from the public, they were “certainly engaged” at last year’s Monument Square Menagerie, Breslin said. “There were people who loved it, and there were people who were confused about it.”

It, however, did raise someone’s concern enough to call police to check out the scene, even though they had a permit to be there.

Breslin can’t help but chuckle about what he heard the officer report back: “Situation normal. Bunch of people in animal costumes. All good.”