She didn't fall from the sky. Perhaps she fell from the overhead power lines, from a tree, from the mouth of some predator - or perhaps she didn't fall from anywhere at all.
But there she was, suddenly.
I don't know how the little squirrel ended up at the end of my driveway late Saturday afternoon, curled up (and looking quite dead 'til we realized she wasn't) but fate intervened. I would have been at the NYS Wildlife Rehabilitation Council's annual conference this weekend if my weekend plans hadn't changed, and I never would have found her.
Will she live? I don't have a clue. Once I got her into the house and got her settled in I could see she was quite neurologic. She is a first-year squirrel, very spastic, often vocalizing and clearly terrified. She can't eat or drink on her own and though she has use of her limbs she cannot coordinate her use of them. She appears to be having some kind of petit mal seizure (perhaps) or is simply reacting to me out of fear (I am after all a predator) so I intervene with her carefully, trying to cloak myself from her sight when possible.
I don't know how much luck - and it will be mostly luck - I will have in bringing her around. I may have to face a difficult decision in a few days.
At least she is warm and comfortable. Fate may intervene in a way that means her life will not go forward but at least she is, for now, out of harm's way.