Sunday - April 26, 2009

cute lil varmints

"MOMMY!  HELP!  HELP!  RIPLEY'S GOT A SQUIRREL! PLEASE COME QUICKLY!" screams child number two while I was busy facebooking child number 1 to arrange a visit to his campus in Hoboken.

With visions of flying furballs and gushing blood , I leaped out of my chair and grabbed the nearest long thing I could find, an aqua gymstick, and bolted outside to rescue the very species we curse every day for hogging the bird food.

"THE TREE, THE TREE!"  Kyra screamed, her eyes bulging out of her skull and her arms flapping off her shoulders as she tried to point me in the right direction, "HURRY MOM, IT'S A BABY!

Silly little squirrel didn't know what to do.  Apparently it couldn't climb all the way up the tree, just barely out of Ripley's reach.  So the squirrel kept scrabbling around and around with the dog a breath away, barking furiously. 

In no time, Ripley moped back into the house, avoiding my prods with the stick, where she continued moping through the entire affair, which ruined all her outside fun on the best warmest day yet this year.  Poor puppy.

Meanwhile, I sat in the grass, watching the little bugger to make sure he hadn't been squished too badly.  He shivered and wobbled as he descended the tree, waiting and watching for eons between each jerky little movement.  I spoke softly to him, shushing away his fear and assuring him I would stay with him until I was sure he could at least walk away okay.

Kyra insisted all this commotion must have made him thirsty, so she brought a tiny bowl of water.  I told her she could sprinkle a few shelled pumpkin seeds on the ground, too, in case he was hungry.

Completely ignoring the presented meal, he proceeded to root around under the pine needles and dead grass, nibbling on bits of what appeared to be crumbling old bird droppings.  Mmm.

Whatever.  He seems to be fine... so I'll just carefully stand up and back away...

"YIKES"  He jumped and hopped toward me as if to say "Don't go!"

Aw, shit.  Now what?

I sat back down, and we watched each other warily until his eyes drooped, his head drooped, and finally he went so still I was sure he was dead.

Poor little guy.

As I moved to stand up again, his eyes popped open and he panicked, running toward me until I back away.  

"Whoah doggie!  Don't climb up me, I'm not a tree.  And I'm not your mommy either.   Ay ay ay!"

Finally I just gave up.  The little guy could move pretty quickly if he needed to.  Maybe his mama would come and get him if we just left him alone for awhile...

We watched from the window as he scampered to and fro in the back yard until he finally disappeared under the fence.  I breathed a sigh of relief, and focused on "What's for supper?" and "What time do I have to be at this PTA thing tonight?"  

Just as my ducks were falling into a nice row and execution had begun, Kyra came screaming in the front door this time, "MOM! I FOUND HIM!  YOU GOTTA COME AND HELP ME!  HE'S UNDER YOUR CAR!  WHAT IF HE GOES IN THE STREET?  OH PLEASE COME FAST!"

AW SHIT!  I'M BEING HELD HOSTAGE BY A BABY SQUIRREL!

Now our neighbor across the street got involved.  The one who always saves the abandoned creatures - last summer she nursed four baby squirrels, successfully releasing two back to nature (don't ask about the other two...).  She confirmed that this one was way smaller than the ones she helped last year, placing her cell phone next to him for good measure.

After a ridiculous amount of speculation and discussion - oh what to do - and watching the squirrel fall asleep several times - he's getting so weak, he's probably starving, I finally gave in and cooked him up a proper meal.  Warm peanut butter milk.

Well, what else would you feed a baby squirrel?  We tried mushy banana but he wasn't interested. 

The milk, however, he lapped up voraciously and promptly scampered off to fall asleep in my wheel well.  

(That's Kyra's tiny hand holding the spoon.)

A short while later, I sighed at the sleeping baby in my wheel well and scooted over to take Bryan's car to my volunteer gig.  Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw something drop off the roof into the bush by our front steps.

Don't look.  Just get in the filthy car and drive away.

I looked.

Sure enough, under the bush, shaking and peering out at me with big frightened eyes, was another baby squirrel.

I ran into the house and, in as compassionate a voice as I could muster, announced to Artie "There's another one under the bush by the steps.  It's raining freakin' squirrels.  Sorry I have to leave.  You're it!  Good luck!"

Later that night I plodded up the steps, wondering if... yup - there on the porch, in our neighbor's rabbit cage, were two baby squirrels surrounded by a few handfuls of leaves, curled up into balls so tiny you could scoop them up with a tablespoon.

The story continued.  How they tried to leave the squirrels alone but they kept climbing the steps and appearing by the doors, waiting for their next batch of peanut butter milk I suppose.

Sweet, friendly little buggers.   Sooo adorable.

Too bad they grow up to be VARMINTS.

So I said my goodbyes and a little prayer, and in good faith SuperDad drove them up to the deep dark woods on Whipporwill Road next to HuberWoods Park.  We figured maybe their instincts will kick in and, together, they will survive.

Or at the very least they will make a nice tasty meal for a hungry owl instead of a stinky roadkill frisbee.

Ain't nature great?