26 Aug A Baby Squirrel Reunited
A white tail, tall and skinny as a flagpole, bobbed above the leaves. It twisted and swayed, then swerved in a new direction. This was like no tail I’d seen before and while the animals that prowl about my Maryland home are quite different than those in Miami, I’ve come to recognize even the back-ends of the woodchucks, muskrats, otters and foxes I glimpse in my yard. This was none of those.
The tail bobbed out of sight as the animal reached a denser, taller, though still mere inches high, section of herbaceous plants. I knelt at the edge of the planting, tracking rustling leaves to know where my white-tailed quarry might re-emerge. I shifted my position in accordance, aiming for a spot with a view that would not be directly in the animal’s path. Yet the movement seemed to be tracking me back and all of a sudden, exactly in front of me, out popped the tiniest gray squirrel I’d ever seen.
It blinked a moment as it transitioned from shade to sun, then looked in my direction and scampered straight up. I held still, not wanting to startle it. The kit circled me a couple of times, then stopped. It sat up on its hind legs and reached in my direction, resting one tiny paw on my knee. The baby gazed into my face as if to plea, “Do you know where my mother is?”
Before I could respond, the squirrel began circling again. It headed toward the plants, skirting along the edge, weaving in and out of stems, then rounding back toward me. The squirrel’s motion was erratic. Fast, then slow. Moving in one direction, then another. Stopping, then moving again. It seemed directionless; and the more I watched, the more the animal seemed to stagger.
Questions raced through my head as I watched the tiny tail spin before me. Surely this baby was too small to be independent. How long did mother squirrels tend their young? Perhaps this one had fallen from its nest and was too weak or inexperienced to really walk. Did it need my help? I needed answers.
I carefully took my leave, returning to the house to google “Squirrel baby rescue”. An infographic from the Wildlife Center of Virginia popped up.
“Does the squirrel have a fluffed-out tail?” I read.
No.
“Does the squirrel have a body longer than 6” (not including tail)?”
I didn’t think so, but I grabbed a tape measure to be sure.
“Does the squirrel approach humans or pets?”
Yes, I thought. And as if to confirm, the baby emerged from a patch of long grasses and stumbled toward me as I returned.
I held up my tape measure and noted that the baby was barely 4” long. That made two “No” answers and one “Yes”, meaning my squirrel was somewhere between being an incapable infant and an independent juvenile, weaned at just 10 weeks. I decided that the two negative answers tipped the scales toward this being an infant, which meant I needed to find and return it to its nest. I stared at the grove of large trees before me and wondered how on earth I was going to do that.
I glanced back down at the baby and saw it was trying to dig. I knelt for a closer look and noticed that I’d spilled some bird seed on my way to the feeder. Even at this young age, the squirrel recognized that as food. It nearly toppled to its back as it enthusiastically scratched and pawed the uneven ground, plucking morsels of white millet from the mud. It was too cute not to sit and watch, but then I noticed the flies.
There was one large green bottle fly in particular that kept landing at the same spot on the squirrel’s hind flank. The squirrel jumped with a start every time. I tried to swat the fly away, but it just kept coming. A hole started to form in the squirrel’s fur at that spot and I began to worry that the fly was eating the poor baby alive. Or perhaps it was laying its eggs in the squirrel’s flesh, a hazard mentioned on the infographic. The eggs would supposedly look like grains of rice and I saw nothing like that, but I became desperate to get this baby back to its nest before further fly harm.
Suddenly I heard a high-pitched squeal, a call similar to the one the kit before me increasingly mewed. I scanned the trees. I saw nothing. I stood and took a few steps. Then I saw it – another tiny squirrel, its head peering out from an owl nest box I’d placed there the year prior. This new baby stared down at me, crying out a few more notes before disappearing from view. I’d found the nest.
I took a moment to unsuccessfully swat flies from my grounded baby, then rushed to the garage for a ladder and gloves. By the time I’d placed the ladder against the tree, donned the gloves, and returned to the baby, it was curled in a listless ball. It had wrapped its little white tail around its body and shivered with each new fly landing. I scooped it from the ground and held it against my chest as I hurried toward the ladder. I felt it nestle against my shirt, seemingly grateful to be cuddled. I hated to disturb it as I reached the top of my ladder, but mom would know best what to do.
The nest box opening was too small for my hand and I wondered how to place the baby down into it without potentially causing a head first fall. I needn’t have worried. As I carefully stretched my hand toward the entrance, the baby roused. It perched its paws on the ledge, then gently eased itself into the nest with its siblings, flicking its little white tail in parting.
Dana OHara Smith
Posted at 02:47h, 11 SeptemberWhat is story I was sitting on the edge of my seat! So glad there was a happy ending.
Kirsten Hines
Posted at 19:28h, 08 OctoberAnd an even happier ending… I just cleaned out the owl box in preparation for next year and all the babies had moved on. There are a bunch of new squirrels running around the yard!