Lord Of The Squirrels

Edition #61 — Septemeber 28, 2004

I was walking along my "magic path" about two weeks ago when something hopped away from my left foot. I thought it might be a toad, but it turned out to be a baby squirrel. A very helpless and distressed baby squirrel.

The first thing I noticed was its neck, it was all twisted and when it stood the neck kept bending over to the right. The squirrel, for its part, didn't run away. It actually lurched away about two feet and then tipped on its side and went into what looked like convulsions. It might have been exhaustion, but it looked close to death. It was also covered in fleas and there were flies that kept landing on it, like vultures in waiting.

And that's when I got involved.

Intervention

I watched the squirrel for about an hour. It was hobbling around out in the open, on the lawn, and we have some big cats around that eat helpless wildlife whenever possible. So with the aid of some gloves I corralled this little squirrel and eased it, with only one little squeak of protest, into my new squirrel intensive care unit or "garbage can" as you might call it.

First thing's first: food and water. It was no surprise that eating and drinking were not a problem for this little one. It was obviously old enough to eat solid food, but wouldn't have survived long running around with a twisted neck and passing out on the back lawn.

I called the local humane society but didn't get a good feeling from the woman who returned my call on her cell phone. She sounded distracted. Nor did I like the sound of the word "euthanize" in conjunction with healing the squirrel's neck issue. But I kept an open mind; I just didn't jump at the first opinion about caring for a wild animal in distress. After all, not everyone is good at their job just because they show up for it.

A couple of people warned about it being "illegal" for me to keep a wild animal for more than twenty four hours without a license or official Club Squirrel membership card... I waived my rights. I tried to picture myself in Milhaven Penitentiary, sharing a cell with the guy who killed his parents with lawn darts and having to explain to him that I was doing hard time for harbouring a squirrel. To hell with it — give me the chair! Is that the best you got, Warden?! More juice! C'mon, ya big pansy!

Virtue

The squirrel started sitting in my hand — oops, I really don't know how it got there... As I was looking down at this cute little thing nestled in my brown cotton gloves I asked "So what's your name" and the word "Virtue" instantly popped into my head. So rather than debate with my head all day, I named this baby squirrel "Virtue".

Wearing thick brown gloves for Virtue's protection, and mine, I noticed fleas crawling all over her. I spoke to the fleas and said "I want all you guys gone!" As I was finishing my squirrel walk — which is my normal walk, but now with a baby squirrel nestled in my hand — I noticed that the fleas were actually starting to crawl onto my gloves...and on to me.

Three days later, not a single flea remained on Virtue. Oh, and I am literally COVERED in flea bites. "No, take me instead!" kind of thing. But it was a worthy sacrifice. I'm thinking I might look for work as a pet de-flea-er.

Squirrelling Lessons

I took Virtue out for several hours each day. I watched her climb trees and even caught her once as she was falling out of a tree about 8 feet in the air. And I had to watch helplessly when she'd fallen 15 feet to the ground after I'd turned my head away for just a few seconds. She was all flattened out and her neck, which seemed to be healing rather quickly, was all weird and twisted again. What a horrible feeling, for both of us.

I cupped her in my hand and we shared some mutual fear and suffering - a "laying on of hands", if you will. And then, I gave her half a peanut. She took it in her front paws and perched on my hand as she ate. And then she wanted to go climbing again. Kids!

One of the things I've become aware of is the huge emotional investment that parents — or, at least the good ones — must have in caring for their children. I'm not a parent, but I could feel that ever-present sense of guardianship; how overwhelming is the power of putting your own life in the service of another, of feeling another's pain and suffering. For some, it's just a squirrel; for others, it's a cosmic lesson in humility and selflessness.

Epilogue

Well, that was almost two weeks ago now. Today Virtue spends the entire day in the trees, practicing her squirrelling skills so she'll survive in the wild. Watching her practice, I could see it was all very methodical, and far more redeeming and entertaining than most of today's tv shows.

Out of concern, I keep a constant vigil, since she still wanders around openly at the bases of trees and I don't know where those cats are hiding. I've still managed to get a load of work done on my computer, but I'm seeing more direct and extended sunlight than I have in quite some time. And when I type at my computer, it's only for two minute intervals. Then I get up and look out the window to make sure she's okay. The best part about it is that I'm not impatient in waiting on her (or him, since I don't know what gender Virtue is).

Until yesterday I was getting quite concerned: I'd become really attached to this little animal being and I didn't want to just toss her out there somewhere and say: "Go on kid, go make a living for yourself!" Although it's getting better, Virtue still has that slight neck lean, is still very young, and doesn't have enough experience climbing trees to escape predators.

I'd spoken to several wildlife rehabilitators, wanting to get Virtue placed somewhere for the winter. The person who sounded the most caring had named her wildlife rehab center after a spiritual yoga practice. Yeah baby! Now we're talking! Squirrels at a yoga retreat. Gotta like that. But she thought that I was already doing the right thing, and since Red Squirrels are in decline from Black Squirrel competition, she thought Virtue should stay in her present, familiar habitat and that she'd soon became acclimated, and wild.

"Born Free, as free as the wind blows" (sniff, sniff)

So, based upon this yoga woman's advice, I'm building Virtue a little winter house of her own. There are lots of big evergreens and leaf trees in the back yard to climb and hide in. She'll be well-protected and live in the place she was born, surrounded by her squirrel relatives and plenty of food, and me.

Ah, life is truly beautiful. Now if only we could learn to treat each other that way.

So that's my "real" project for the next week: to build Virtue a home. Luckily I don't have to install hydro or plumbing... For now, her daylight hours are spent up in her favorite tree, the one just outside my window. And when it gets dark at day's end, I reach out and she climbs down onto my brown glove. Then I gently cup her in my hands as she falls asleep, and we go for a little walk on my magic path.

See you in the trees!
Roland Kriewaldt


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