Driving out to the store tonight just to pick up a few quick items, Laurie and I saw a squirrel hopping a bit uncertainly up the middle of the road just a couple of minutes from our house. When I realized it was a young one, I could not resist interfering with the cruel sorting of nature. It's one thing when a hungry owl swoops down on the unsuspecting young rodent, but quite another when it simply gets turned into a squirrel flapjack by a passing car. It seems crueler and more wasteful, even though some scavenger will no doubt make off with the carcass before morning.
But it's a ba-beeee.
I jammed the car in park, punched the emergency flashers and jumped out after an oncoming car passed.
At first I intended to carry the squirrel into the woods on one side or the other, but I had no idea which way it had been headed. It had appeared to have no firm idea either. Meanwhile, it crawled up toward my chest and clung there, burrowing its little head into my shirt.
Awwwwwww! Quit that, you little bastard.
Too late. We ran it home and stuffed it into a cat carrier, with a little bowl of water and another bowl of dry oatmeal. It's old enough to be weaned, though it acted as though it might still be getting to nurse as well.
We'll try tomorrow to find an official state-licensed squirrel nurse.