It was a beautiful afternoon on the playground, with a crispness to the air that we hadn't felt in six months. My pre-k kiddos were gleefully running, climbing, and pedaling in a dozen different directions, so it was apparent that something was up when a group of them congregated in a row along the chain-link fence at the back of the playground.
One of the children broke off as I neared, running towards me and shouting, "There's a baby squirrel over there!" Behind our playground is a large grassy area with a small wooded patch beyond that, and we often saw Canada geese, groundhogs, squirrels, and even an occasional red fox, but they kept their distance from our little animals on the playground, and I assumed the children were just watching a squirrel scampering around. But when they continued to stand in a row along the fence, hopping up and down, curiosity got me and I joined them.
They weren't wrong.
A baby squirrel was in the grass about a yard from the fence. Its body was maybe 6 inches long, its tail a good 8 inches long and narrow, not the fluff you see on a full grown squirrel. It's eyes were big. It would try to pick up a blade of grass or a leaf and put it in its mouth, then drop it, as if it didn't know what to do with it. It didn't seem to be afraid of all the little faces looking at it, and it would look at them, then move a little closer. When it gave a little hop and was only a few inches from the fence, I shooed all the kids away. The last thing I needed was for one of them to reach through the fence and get bitten or scratched, and just as the children reluctantly backed away, the little squirrel hopped through the chain-link fence and then crawled onto my shoe, and holding its little front feet together, it gazed up at me with those sweet brown eyes. My heart melted.
It was all I could do to keep from reaching down and picking it up, but teeth and claws stopped me. I called to one of our college students (who work as teacher assistants) to bring me a bucket. She grabbed a small black bucket and handed it to me, and I held it next to my shoe and scooped the baby squirrel into it. With his long, skinny tail peeping over the top of the bucket, I took a large bowl from the mud kitchen and placed it over the top of the bucket, and the squirrel was now safe from being loved to death by the kids.
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| Our little friend gave tunneling out a valiant try |
Now what?
"What" is that I carried the bucket with the bowl balanced on top VERY CAREFULLY into the building and straight to the office. I sat it on my friend Nikki's desk and said, "Who do we call to take a baby squirrel?!" and Nikki answered, "I know this! My mother in law's friend Sheryl!" Nikki tried to reach Sheryl and didn't immediately get an answer, so I called our local wildlife center to ask them, hoping they'd tell me to bring it to them. They did not, telling me to take it to the nearest tree and leave it there for its mom to find.
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| How to escape-proof a bucket of squirrel |
Since we couldn't reach Sheryl, and with threats from our co-worker Ceason of what she was going to do to us if the squirrel got loose and began running through the school, we had no choice but to take the advice of the wildlife center and carry it outside and put it near a tree. Reluctantly, we trudged out across the grassy field. The nearest tree was maybe 20 yards away from the playground fence, but we were afraid our baby would just hop back to the playground, and we would be right back where we started from. We continued to the wooded area and spied a squirrel nest high up in a tree with an adult squirrel obligingly sunning itself on a nearby branch. And when I say "high up" I mean over a telephone pole high. Do we leave it there and hope the squirrel on the branch is curious enough to come down and get the baby? Temperatures were expected to be near freezing that night. Were we signing its death certificate by leaving it alone on the ground? GAHHHHH!!!
Lucky for us, Nikki's phone rang and it was Sheryl. She had retired from the squirrel-saving business, but for us, she would take the baby. Back to the center we went (still carrying the squirrel in the bucket with a bowl over it), and after trying out a series of Rubbermaid containers (through the assistance of our protesting on the outside but big ol' softy on the inside co-worker Ceason) we got the squirrel transferred from bucket to travel container and drove to Sheryl's home.
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Didn't love the box but he tried to nurse
the blanket and it nearly broke my heart |
When we arrived at Sheryl's, I knew our little squirrel baby was going to be in good hands. She was truly a squirrel lover! She opened the container, took one look at our baby and said it was so young it wasn't even weened yet. That poor, scared baby! She had a cage ready for it and deftly scooped it up with a cloth and cuddled it against her. She then placed it in the cage and onto a soft blanket, and it laid down on its side and began to calm.
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| Our squirrel's guardian angel |
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Cuddled up with a full tummy and a hot water bottle
after enjoying a bottle of formula |
And then she said something I will never forget.
Sheryl said our baby squirrel worked its way to the playground because it needed help. It came through the fence and climbed onto my foot because it was looking for a helper, and it found me. I nearly cried, especially when I thought of how close we were to leaving that precious baby in the woods alone.
Fred Rogers famously told children that in scary times to look for the helpers. In helpers, you will find safety.
Be someone's helper whenever you can. Even if it's a squirrel baby.
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