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9:18 p.m. - 2003-09-09
Baby Squirrel!
Ah, it was a lovely day! One of those days that leaves you with a warm happy fuzzy sort of feeling. I rescued a baby squirrel!!

The story starts a bit sadly, as I found a dead squirrel in the road in front of our house yesterday. I took her out of the road, trying not to look at the blood and gore, and put her into a nice spot in the jungle. To be honest, although I felt a bit sad, I didn't think much more about it.

Then this afternoon I was out scavenging chestnuts and heard a strange animal noise. I thought maybe it was a bird. It was sort of a high pitched scree-ing noise. It only lasted a few minutes and then stopped.

Puzzling. I couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from.

Later on, I was again out scavenging and saw something moving on the ground near our chainlink fence. A mouse? Too big. A rat? Too small, and too much fur on the tail. I got closer. It was a baby something, so tiny its eyes were not even open, yet it had a strange rangey look, long legs, and an even longer tail.

It was a baby squirrel - the tiniest one I have ever seen. With her long legs and general daft demeanor, she actually reminded me of an itty bitty Zesto.

I noticed there was a squirrel's nest above my head, and sadly put two and two together. The baby squirrel's mom was probably the deceased squirrel I found yesterday. Since Momma didn't respond to Baby's distress calls, Baby decided to cruise, right out of the nest onto the ground, where she was sure to get snagged by a predator.

If I had vaguely thought the mama squirrel was still alive, I would have tried to return the baby to the nest. How I would have done this is a mystery, since the nest was a good 25 feet up on a very thin branch. The question was mute, though. It was me and Baby against the world.

Ok, correct that: Me, Baby, and the Alabama Wildlife Rehabilitators. I knew there was a group of them, and I knew I had their number in my "animal rescue and general insanity" files. Throwing caution to the wind, I scooped up Baby, stuck her under my shirt, and went in to get a syringe full of water (she looked very slightly dehydrated) and find the number.

Baby, meanwhile, had decided I was a good mom substitute. While I was searching through my notes, she climbed up my shirt and latched on to my earlobe, sucking wildly. Ever had your ear sucked by a baby squirrel? It tickled so that by the time I got the Wildlife rehabilitator on the phone I couldn't stop giggling.

I was expecting to be told to just release the baby and let the mother find it, or to be given instructions on how to rehabilitate her myself. Instead, to my surprise, the woman took my call as seriously as if I had just said that a human baby had been dropped off on my doorstep. "Can I take your number and have someone call you right back? This squirrel's gonna need a foster situation!!" she said, sounding slightly breathless and desperate.

She begged me to keep the squirrel warm. I giggled, since I already had a hot water bottle pressed to the squirrel, which was still clamped onto my ear.

A few minutes later I got a call from a cheery sounding woman name Layla. Could I meet her at Landry's restaurant in 15 minutes? She had just rescued two other squirrels in the last week, and was on her way to pick up a hawk.

By this time Bruce was home. He seemed profoundly relieved that someone else was going to be syringe feeding Miss Squirrel. I unclamped her from my ear, wrapped her in an old T shirt with the hot water bottle, and off we went.

By the time we got to Landry's Baby had fallen asleep, curled up in my T-shirt. I wish we had thought to photograph her, because no words can possibly describe how just insanely adorable she was.

Layla was waiting next to her truck. She did, indeed, have an injured hawk in the back. She also had what looked to be a briefcase, but which was, in fact, a squirrel incubator.

"I take 'em to work with me!" she beamed. "There's a heating pad in there, and they spend most of the time sleeping."

She took a good look at Baby and confirmed that she was actually a she and not a he.

"It'd be pretty obvious if this was a male." Layla explained. "Let's just say if someone says you're hung like a squirrel, it's not an insult."


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