High fives for squirrels!

A friend just forwarded me this photograph. I'm not sure where it was taken or where it is from, but once I laid my eyes on it, I knew exactly where it was going - RIGHT ONTO THIS BLOG.

Admit it: You want to High-Five him right back, don't you? (Actually it looks more like a HIGH-FOUR with a vestigal thumb but let's not nit-pick here, ok?)

Now what could he be high-fiving about? My guess is, THE ECONOMY.
While the rest of us struggle and worry about taxes, property values, our pensions and the future of our respective industries in which we have built careers, this fellow has spent his life dutifully squirreling away his assets for the future. I think I want to hire him as my financial planner. Don't you?

High-five, little fellow!!

Sunday Squirrels, in a big way!

Readers of The Sunday Herald in India, got an eyeful today in the paper's Travel section:

http://www.deccanherald.com/Content/Jul202008/sundayherald2008071879562.asp

My friend Arul, who is on fellowship in India, sent me this link, and it gently escorted me to a story about tourism at the Dandeli Wildlife Sanctuary in India, a reasonable train ride's distance from Bangalore. Follow it and see what greets you on the screen.

It is a Giant Malabar Squirrel! Handsome, no? Here is an artist's rendering of this 4-pound creature, courtesy of the Bombay Natural History society:



When this guy asks you for nuts, you better have your shirt pockets and pants pockets - and jacket pockets - full of a stash!

I think it is particularly encouraging that the newspaper chose a photo of a squirrel, out of all the animal images it surely could have used, to draw attention to Dandeli's wonders. Newspapers (and I know this to be true because I work for one!) are always in the business of trying to put eye-catching headlines and images out there, things that will draw the readers in.

Those of us who know squirrels, however, know that they are wonders of the world in their own right. It's about time they get their "share of ink," as we say in the publishing business.

That's a Giant Step for the Giant Malabar Squirrel - and a giant leap for all squirrels, in fact!

What's in a name, squirrel?

Let's face it, squirrels seem to sell themselves. Anyone who's seen their acrobatics under (or atop) a tree, or been cornered by their hard-sell nut-begging behavior that cries out, "we don't take 'no' for an answer," knows this. You buy into their gambit even without realizing it.

So it's only natural that human marketers would harness a little squirrel power behind some more everyday people-pleasing commodities, everything from beer and wine to candies and even a music group.

Take Mad Squirrel Chardonel, for instance. This is a wine produced by Mary Michelle wines in Illinois and presumably, a few glasses do NOT leave you bright-eyed anymore but your tongue may feel a bit bushy-tailed. For those who prefer something more grainy than grape, there is Fat Squirrel Ale, which comes to us from a Wisconsin-based brewer. (Grain being a carbohydrate, presumably we know how and why the squirrel got fat.)

The sweeter side of life is celebrated by the Buddy Squirrel line of nut candies, also in Wisconsin, and the Squirrel Nut Zippers, an old-time American caramel favorite whose name was adopted by a stylish, popular and now-defunct music group.

And let's not forget technology. There is even a Squirrel Programming Language.

Squirrels, of course, get no royalties from all this use of their wit, charm and cuteness because, as squirrelly as some folks think lawyers may be, there are no squirrel lawyers - at least not yet. Perhaps, however, that is the next industry to capitalize on harnessing squirrel power.

I can just see the shingle hanging outside the office door now: Chatterer, Rodentay & Bushytail, Acornies-at-Law

A squirrel for all seasons

This photograph of a beautiful hand-crafted weathervane comes my way courtesy of a fellow blogger, Hugh Hubble, across the Pond. He photographed this stately metal fellow atop a country building and it led us both to believe that perhaps it was designed by a farrier, or some other old-world type artisan, a person gifted at what seems a dying art in modern times.
This functional creature inspires me as being truly a Squirrel for All Seasons. Perched higher on his equally beautiful rooftop than any of his flesh-and-fur colleagues might ever be in their respective trees, the squirrel gracefully surveys not just the landscape but the weather prospects ahead. In this respect, he "out-roosters" the rooster who is most typically seen in this position. (Ah, could "Weathervane Sentinel" possibly be the next career post to be outsourced, in this modern economy, to wild rodents? Probably not. The crowing bird still does the lion's share of the work, if you'll pardon the intermingling of metaphors.)


It's not so odd really, when you think about it. We watch squirrels moult in spring and wonder if the weather will turn warmer a bit earlier. We watch them cache their nuts in late summer into autumn and speculate if the winter will be without mercy. We squirrel-watchers observe them nest-building, migrating, mating and conducting all other manner of daily business. And from this, we conclude what our own lives will be like.

Perhaps in that respect every squirrel - whether on our rooftops or merely in our treetops - is, in its own way, a weathervane for us, helping us to chart the course of our own days and seasons.

A hair-raising squirrel story

Listed among those famous folks, who are most famous for being bald: Telly Savalas, Daddy Warbucks, Persis Khambatta, Alfred Hitchcock, Sinead O'Connor (briefly, Britney Spears), Mister PotatoHead and yes, even Humpty Dumpty (ever seen a soft-boiled egg with an updo or hightop fade?)

And now: Smoothie the squirrel.

This beautiful male's appearance at St Tiggywinkles Wildlife Hospital in Britain has been hair-raising because he showed up as the apparent victim of hair-razing -- as in, bald with only a few wisps on his tail. And though the customary conclusion in such cases is that the squirrel was shorn by mites that accompany mange, this apparently doesn't seem to be the case for Smoothie.
He is handsome anyway, with a good appetite and presumably, a pretty good attitude.

But getting to the root (or at least the follicle) behind his condition may take some digging, if not some splitting hairs altogether.

We will be watching his case and hoping things turn around for him soon. There is no "Hair Club for Squirrels" and rodent toupees are not the fashion either. At least the weather is warm enough so he's not at risk for frostbite. But let's all wish the good folks in the UK some good fortune to help our friend Smoothie get his coat back in time for fall fashion and nut burying season.

Squirrel swarm!

Should anyone ever wonder "where have all the squirrels gone?" I swear that on some mornings they have found their way onto our property. This is the view on most mornings, early, when the commuters stop by to fortify themselves for a busy day of digging, planting, scurrying and raiding bird-feeders.
Some of these are the regulars we see every day; others are newcomers I may not recognize. There are a few, such as Tipsy, a slightly neurologic squirrel, who brightens my day when he shows up - and I make sure he gets extra so he stays strong and able-bodied.

In case I ever feel like my life is not complete I only need to look at these photos to realize that nature has given us "ACORN-U-COPIA."

Some Enterprising squirrels

These photos, by Poetikat, my friend and fellow blogger, are by far the best adaptive reuse I have ever seen of old, outmoded satellite TV dishes. See the great reception these dishes are getting from their new audience??

Perhaps these denizens of outdoor dining, supping in space-age luxury, look like visitors from the Planet Rodentia. "TAKE ME TO YOUR FEEDER!!" they might implore.

But no, look again - they are of our own Planet Earth. In fact, this is the voyage of the StarShip RODENTerprise - to boldly go where lots of squirrels have gone before. And every single one is a cling-on!

Congratulations, Poetikat, for giving this space-age crew their own marvelous new vehicle. Wishing them all many, many miles out there beneath that famous constellation, The Nut Cracker!

Where the wild things are

I'm borrowing this post's title from a book by children's author Maurice Sendak simply because I love the very sound of those words - it is like music to me. Also, I love the image those words evoke together.

And, as it turns out, I love the news I have to report about where two of the wild things are that I care about: the first is the sweet female squirrel with the errant incisor growing out of her face - a squirrel who has been visiting us almost daily. Her photo can be seen in this blog's post of May 8, where I also report about a juvenile female squirrel in my care, one who came in with balance issues and extra toes.

I worried that the adult female would need trapping and her incisor clipped at some point because it would overgrow to the point of distress, infection - or both. I wrestled with ethical and emotional issues over this and, as it turns out, none of this is necessary. She is thriving! The tooth has not only failed to over, it does not seem to get in her way at all. The rest of her teeth seem perfectly functional and she is as healthy and bright-eyed as the first day I saw her.

My decision to leave her, where the wild things are, turned out to be a good call.

The slightly neurologic female juvenile squirrel, the one I named Massa, is meanwhile fully and happily accepted by her adoptive brother and sister in their temporary caging, where she climbs with the agility any squirrel would envy, where she eats and plays and yes, even engages in lively wrestling matches.

My decision that she may indeed be releasable after all is one I am feeling more comfortable with day by day.

They will both be living where the wild things are and living what I hope will be long, full lives.
The sound you hear in the background is me, sighing a deep sigh of relief.

Music I've squirreled away

Rumors aside, that tap I just felt on my shoulder a moment ago was not a squirrel politely asking for me to crack open another bag of pecans: It was Poetikat, fellow blogger and fellow animal lover, tagging me all the way from Canada, for a meme.

Her request: List seven songs that are making your summer bright, she urges me. No matter if they have words (or not), if they're not particularly good, and no matter if they are of a relatively strange genre. Post these instructions along with the names of the seven songs and then tag seven other bloggers to participate in this musical ritual. Argh, that is the tough nut to crack, as my rodent pals would say.

Anyway, here goes:

"Put Your Records On" - Corinne Bailey Rae
"The Riddle" - Five for Fighting
"Dance with my Father" - Luther Van Dross
"World" - Five for Fighting
"Take Good Care of My Baby" - Carole King/Bobby Vee (either version)
"Busy Being Fabulous" - The Eagles
"Living Free" - Enda Keegan (http://www.prairiedogday.org/)
Better Days - Dianne Reeves

OK I cheated and named 8 instead of 7. I promise to dig a hole and bury one and pray for a tree to grow out of it.
And hmmmm, now who to tag?

Queen of the acorns

This beautiful photo of a mother squirrel raiding a California bird feeder caught my eye. It was in the online edition of the Thousand Oaks Acorn, a weekly newspaper in Thousand Oaks, Calif., which by virtue of its name alone, must be a community second only to squirrel paradise itself.

The sweet creature pictured here was deemed Squirrel of the Month by the publication's editors - and indeed, each month a successor is crowned from among the digital entries submitted.

The Thousand Oaks newspaper deserves a thousand (or more) thanks. Their clever, creative way of encouraging readers to share their photographic talents, and respect for wildlife, is so simple. And apparently so very popular.

There are of course, enough squirrels on this planet to have a Squirrel of the Week, of the Day and even of the Hour. But we'll take our monthly honors for now and be ever so grateful.

Like this little mother squirrel, someone at that little community newspaper has chosen to stand up and go for something wonderful!

Squellephants and other genetic challenges

In a recent audition for NBC's "Last Comic Standing," a would-be funnyman named Dan Cummins, who lives in Minneapolis, told the audience that the pet of his dreams would be half Labrador retriever, half squirrel and would be called a "squirrelador." The 90-pound rodent, he said, would be capable of swimming but also adept at scaling to overhead power lines.

I can't say I argue at all with the concept but, with all due respect to Mr. Cummins, I do think there are far better combinations utilizing squirrellian talents to their fuller potential.

How about a squellephant? Pachyderms are already the appropriate color and they also already share a propensity for peanuts. Granted, you may not want one climbing your leg or sitting on your windowsill looking into your bathroom but at least you know they'd be visible when they were crossing the street, especially in packs.

Or a squawk? No, not the sound a bird makes, but the even more unlikely pairing with one of the raptors known to pursue squirrels as prey. A squawk, of course, would not prey on itself but would definitely be able to ascend to the skies, at fantastic heights, as a useful escape to land predation by, say, a fox. And as sharp as squirrels' claws already are, just think of the climbing power those talons might give them!

My personal favorite might be the squorse. Pairing up with an equine could produce the black, grey, red and even white varieties - all genetically possible - and just think of the heights these creatures might achieve over cross-rail obstacles on the Grand Prix jump course as they carry their extra bushy tails high above their saddles!

Don't forget the possibility of a liorrell. With a big mane and a mighty roar, it will set upon your bird feeder, steal your seed, topple your trees with its mighty weight and then try to force its way into your attic.

To those folks who read this and bemoan the fact that "those rodents" are "ruining" their yards, think twice before you regret the presence of squirrels of any kind. Things could be worse, you know. This is something everyone must try to remember - because a squellephant never forgets!

Into the woods

I think of them now. I think of them now, most especially, because the sun has set on their first day back into the wild. They have not lived in the trees like this since late last summer, as babies. Then suddenly, somehow their lives were interrupted and they landed in human care.

Now they are back in the wild, older, stronger, healthier and with muscles to carry them capably from branch to branch, trunk to trunk.

Two girls - both orphaned and having suffered the loss of siblings - and a boy - found by himself and cared for alone at first. All were brought to me as older juveniles and out of this ragtag trio, we fashioned a new family, an ad hoc litter of squirrels. They spent the ensuing cold season - what we rehabbers call "overwintering" - with us.

Today I carried them in a small holding cage into the woods and the door was opened on the rest of their lives. I have seen this dozens of times before but it never fails to stir me.

I think of them now, looking out past my office windows into the darkness, and I wish them a good first sleep, the first of many to come.

I wish I had brought a camera but perhaps it does not matter. When I close my eyes tonight, I will think of them again. And I will see them.

Speaking of squirrels

Q: When is a noun not a noun?

A: When it is a verb.

I don't mean to be coy or even cryptic here, but the word "squirrel" is almost always a noun, and it customarily connotes the eastern grey variety, the northern or southern flying type, or one of two varieties of red - and perhaps even a whole population of terrestrial squirrels, including the golden mantled squirrel and the 13-lined ground squirrel.

That is a lot of squirrel! A lot of fast-moving, chittering, tail-flicking, nut-burying squirrel. Perhaps it is that very frenzy of activity that first made "squirrel" a particularly good candidate for doing double duty as a verb.

Look in the dictionary and you'll see that "squirrel" is very much a well-used verb in the English language. Its etymology of course rests in the animal from which the verb takes its name. We "squirrel" things away (usually money or small trinkets). And we can conjugate this verb: I squirrel, you squirrel, he squirrels, she squirrels, WE ALL SQUIRREL TOGETHER!!

While I love the noun - why else would this blog exist? - I am starting to revere the verb as well. Squirreling, let's face it, is the ultimate protector of our solvency when the economy goes sour. Squirreling ensures we will have plenty in times of great need. It is synonymous with hoarding.

Answer these questions honestly: How many squirrels have you seen at the bank applying for loans? Or being harassed by collection agencies for nonpayment of bills? How many squirrels stand on the streetcorner with a tin cup, begging for you to spare a dime for a cup of coffee (hazelnut flavor, of course)?

The squirrel is a model saver because the squirrel practices the art of squirreling. Indeed has perfected that art.

It's an image you might just wish to, uh, squirrel away. You never know when you're going to need some good financial advice.

Off topic but still fun

I have been tagged by Tobi at http://tobietal.blogspot.com/ and in appreciation of this gentle tap on the shoulder from a fellow blogger, I'll attempt to answer a few of the requisite questions posed:

TEN YEARS AGO:
We had just taken in a little rescue dog from off the street, believed to be a Lhasa-poodle mix, and after cleaning her up and trying to adopt her out, discovered she had already decided the home she'd found would be the one she'd keep. She's still with us, too.
I didn't believe it was worthwhile to buy vitamins, too many pairs of shoes or Lottery tickets.
I believed anything worth doing was worth doing well. I still believe it.
I had more hope for the future....but back then I also had 10 more years in my future than I do today.

FIVE THINGS ON TODAY'S TO-DO LIST:
Just five? Hah!
1. Feed the squirrels outside, feed the rehab squirrels inside, distribute meds as needed, clean cages, and change the charcoal pre-filters in the air cleaners.
2. Take an early morning ride on Beau and hope he doesn't lift his tail and grace me with his usual post-ride delivery of horse poo whenever I loosen his girth.
3. Cook. It is my joy to cook on the weekend because the pace of my weekday life is so horrific. Cook stuffed peppers with polenta. Cook a pasta-cheese torte. Cook corn-on-the-cob.
4. Sit, relax and enjoy a good strong cup of freshly brewed coffee.
5. Practice my Tai Chi forms, which really stink right now.

SNACKS I ENJOY:
I'll have to opt out of this one since I don't eat except at mealtime.

THINGS I WOULD DO IF I WERE A MILLIONAIRE:
I give thought to this every day of my life. I wouldn't change a thing, not really, except to bail out of my current job and devote myself to more volunteer work - beyond the wildlife rehabbing I presently do. I'd set up trust funds for a few selected charities (medical research, animal rescue), and also ensure that members of my family were cared for, for the rest of their lives, without worry.
What an easy, and happy, question.

PLACES I HAVE LIVED:
Westbury, New York
Hyattsville, Maryland
Middletown, New York
Queens, New York

Now who shall I tag?

Not by nuts alone

We all crave variety in our diets. For squirrels, sometimes hazelnuts, walnuts, pecans and other tree nuts just don't do the trick. The sameness of the day to day diet is enough to drive a squirrel, well, NUTS.

The squirrel in this lovely musical video has discovered a mighty fine alternative. He's putting on the Ritz. Literally.

http://my.break.com/content/view.aspx?ContentID=514434

Enjoy.

Freedom day is coming

For me, the real test of a wildlife rehabilitator comes as the answer to several questions:

1. Do you love these squirrels enough to lose a night's sleep (or several nights' sleep) in order to see them through the night if they are critical?

2. Do you love these squirrels enough to pay full price for veterinary services if the best vet who can care for them, providing surgery, X-ray or medicine, is not one of those professionals who has made the decision to donate his services to wildlife?

3. Do you love these squirrels enough to ensure a clean and healthy environment throughout their stay with you, keeping their food and water plentiful?

and finally....

4. Do you love these squirrels enough to open the door to freedom, saying goodbye to them forever, when the time comes?

When that time comes, they leave your life as suddenly as they once entered it. It is their right to reclaim their place in nature's plan, and it is our privilege as their caretakers to see that they get to that point.

The three squirrels in my care since late last year are ready to go. Freedom is coming for the two girls and one boy who are in my outdoor "pre-release" pen.

Soon the woods will have new dwellers.

The answer is "yes," "yes," "yes" and of course "yes." I love them that much.
And more.

Squirrels, squirrels everywhere

I think we must really love squirrels. Deep down, I am sure most of us, as a population, really truly must: Cartographers, local government officials, sign-makers, citizens, students, poets, farmers and scholars.

Why else would we name so many of our homes and venues after these animals? Why else would we want constant reminders that squirrels grace this planet of ours? Wherever we go....there they are!

Just for starters:

Squirrel Cove, on Cortes Island in British Columbia, Canada
Squirrel Falls in New Brunswick, Canada
Squirrel Point Lighthouse in Maine, here in the U.S.
Squirrel Island, also in Maine
Squirrel River in Alaska

Squirrel River Pines in Oneida County, Wisconsin

Squirrel Lake in Minocqua, Wisconsin
Squirrel Valley near Silt Mesa, Colorado
Squirrel Hill, Pennsylvania
Squirrel Corners near Monticello, N.Y.

and thoroughfares such as:

Squirrel Road in Belmar, N.J. (where a friend of mine owns a house!)
Squirrel Lane in Levittown, N.Y. (not far from where I grew up!)
Gray Squirrel Lane in New Port Richey, Florida
Squirrelwood Road in West Paterson, N.J.
Squirrel Hollow Road in Douglass, Pennsylvania

I could, of course, keep digging and find more.
So could you.
And - so could they.

No appetite for this solution

It says an awful lot about our species, when you consider the way we humans sometimes approach problem-solving: If all else fails, we make the problem go away by eating it.

I used to think this was a uniquely American trait - seeing how many people in the U.S. could easily swap out their stomachs for trash-mashers with little discernible difference - but now I am not so sure our nation has exclusive rights to this kind of bad taste.Here in the States we are in the midst of horse-racing season, and the nation is still reeling from a tragedy on the racetrack immediately following the Kentucky Derby, when the lone filly to run (she finished second!!) sustained a fatal injury and was euthanized on site.

So I was horrified to learn of an even worse fate visited upon a first-place Derby winner back in 1986, a big brown horse named Ferdinand, who was ridden to victory by the legendary American jockey Willie Shoemaker. Ferdinand did not experience similar glory as a stud, and he was something of a failure in Japan too, where his American owners shipped him eventually, for a second try at procreation.
Ferdinand posed a problem - he was now too old to race and he did not produce a new bloodline of future champions. So he was taken to the slaughterhouse in Japan and converted into something edible. And that is how a Derby winner, and the 1987 Horse of the Year, met his end.

I think of Ferdinand now as I read of one solution to Britain's unfortunate influx of aggressive eastern grey squirrels - a non-native species that never asked for such immigration status. They are, for the most part, reviled, hunted and killed because they displace the beloved native reds - and the latest solution is to serve them up on the dinner plate, energizing the local economy, bringing a boon to butcher shops and posing a fun challenge to creative home cooks as well.
I'll have none of that, thank you. It turns my stomach to think we humans, for all our cleverness, have chosen to think with our appetites instead of our minds. We are a sentient species and yet, for all of that, the best we can come up to solve various problems is to slaughter a champion horse (one of many to have met such a fate, I've been assured) and a challenge to creative cooks everywhere to fry up some squirrel.

The worse tragedy here, I fear, is that people really believe this is the best we can do. I'd like to think we as a species can do better. At least I hope and pray we can.

An effective door-to-door sales campaign

Was there ever a better sales job than this? Knocking on doors, making a big pitch to the homeowners responding, and clinching the deal every time. We're not talking about selling Avon or Amway or even those old old Encyclopedia Brittanicas (for those who remember them).

What is this ambitious little saleswoman selling? HERSELF and her need for some of the best nuts on the market.

We're talking 100 percent success here - sitting on the doorknob until the humans inside realize you can run but you cannot hide, not from the very revealing full glass panel of a back door. There is no escaping the steely gaze of the determined saleswoman who also makes it known she is a single mom supporting a family (when she sits up, you can see she is also still a nursing mother). And notice, if you will, the members of her sales team very visible and present in the background.

Would you buy a used car from this squirrel?
Sorry, there is a sucker born every minute (as W.C. Fields would say) - and sucker would be me, reaching for my wallet (or for another 5-lb. bag of nuts to open)

Outfoxing their rivals

Today at work a colleague approached me asking, "Do you know where I can get some fox urine?" (Yes, I do get lots of questions like that from coworkers).

I resisted the temptation to say, "Take the little guy to the neighborhood pub, buy him a few rounds of Heineken.....then hand him a paper cup and stand back!"
Nor did I say, "Put on a white coat, and hang out a shingle that says 'Fox Urology Office, Our Fees Won't Leave You Pissed' "
And there was even one more smartypants phrase of mine that didn't leak out: "Go out, kidnap a fox and stuff him into a pair of diapers and make him drink a few liters of spring water."

Of course I didn't say any of that. I knew this was really about squirrels. Squirrels in someone's attic. Squirrels in someone's garden. Squirrels someplace - anyplace - they weren't wanted. And because I have long been a proponent of convincing those who would seek to repel unwanted squirrels to do so gently, and using natural methods, when this subject of urine came up, I was happy to go with the flow.

Foxes are natural predators of squirrels and so, if your nose can handle the less-than-golden scent that comes with this byproduct of the fox excretory system, you have what is truly one of the world's most golden liquid assets. A squirrel smelling this stuff will usually move on, having been outfoxed.

We who love squirrels but don't want them getting into trouble - or getting hurt by people who'd rather not have them around (like my coworker) - are all for singing the praises of incontinent foxes.

Fox urine, anyone? Oui, Oui!

Squirrels are political animals too

According to a recent story in the Sunbury, Pa., Daily Item, the Pennsylvania Department of State has received a filing from the Squirrel Reform Party to be a player, among the Republicans and Democrats, in this year's elections.

Now everybody knows there's no George W. Bushytail in the running, and Theodore Rodentsevelt's term is long since past. Likewise, there's no candidate on the ballot named Filbert Jackson (nor a hopeful First Lady, Hazel Nutt, or a vice presidential Walnut Mondale on the ticket). And let's not even dredge up the sorry tenure, in the 1970s, of President Richard Milhous Nutkin.

So what's up with Squirrel Reform, anyway? In a nation where states are officially considered "blue" (for Democratic) or "red" (for Republican), just where do the Greys fit in?

I believe the party is trying to push a simple agenda that includes these reforms:

1. Campaign contribution overhaul: Donations of nuts shall be restricted only during the autumn months, and limited to a maximum of one bushel per voting household.
2. No political stumping whatsoever. In fact, no stumps at all. Trees are to remain intact in order to house the maximum number of squirrel families.
3. No vicious chattering about the opposition.
4. Digging up - and then reburying - all those nasty political rumors

Just think about it: If they succeed (which may not be such a bad outcome, if you think about it), our nation may end up in even more of a race for the Nut House.

Don't be so scaredy, squirrel

He's afraid of everything - strangers, the great outdoors, crossing streets, and especially germs. But there's one thing Scaredy Squirrel (from the book series of the same name) is not afraid of -- public speaking.
In fact, through his stories and adventures, the frightened little rodent speaks eloquently to a generation of children who have become enamored of the books that feature him as their petrified protagonist. (He even asks readers of his first book to please wash their hands before handling the pages - yes, he is THAT afraid of catching something!)
Somehow, in the end, things always work out for Scaredy Squirrel: He realizes the world is not so horrible as it seems, and the threats that are out there, imperiling his very life and breath, are not nearly as formidable as he originally thought.
These gentle, good-humored books are flying off the shelves (perhaps a tribute to Scaredy's status as a flying squirrel) and have been given honors from the publishing world.
Scaredy Squirrel clearly has no fear of success. Quite the contrary: He's enjoying it (as is his human creator) - and he deserves it.

Life imitates squirrels

Researchers have done a fine job in discerning the clever and resourceful survival tactics of certain ground squirrels out West: These small creatures fool their predators by adopting the predators' own scent (in this case, the predators are snakes) by chewing on their discarded skins and then licking their own fur.

They thus saturate themselves with Eau de Slithering Viper, or some other life-sustaining cologne. And snake smell is, to them, the very breath of life.

Corporate America, I guess, is no different. The company where I work (no stranger to snakes of its own, by the way) has been sold twice in six months - not a very happy prospect for a person such as myself, concerned about job security and the future.

But I am not the only one, it seems, feeling preyed upon. Our most senior executives apparently have been taking their cues from the invaders. Not long after we were acquired by an eccentric tycoon with a penchant for dressing in worn bluejeans, our ultra-conservative top executive started trading his Brooks Brothers finery for open, tie-less shirts and a lot more of the "slouchy" look.

I couldn't help but think of the snakes and the squirrels. (Of course, our top exec didn't chew on the billionaire tycoon's skin, so far as I know, and then lick himself all over. But he did adopt his sartorial "skin," nonetheless.)

All in all, I would rather work for a company owned by squirrels than by snakes. At the very least, you know that benevolent rodent ownership will permit, if not encourage you to store more than a few nuts in your pension plans for the lean years ahead.

And thus, save your own skin against the toughest predator of all - the economy.

A tree expresses its "inner squirrel"

Squirrels and chainsaws are not usually a happy pairing. Oftentimes someone takes a chainsaw to a tree, and a squirrel is left homeless or worse - a nesting family is dislodged, a mother squirrel displaced or injured and likewise, the babies injured or killed.

So this happy story, about a carver in the UK, a chainsaw-wielding maestro, if you will, is a heartening bit of reality from the Hereford Times:

http://www.herefordtimes.com/news/3130167.At_the_cutting_edge/

I like the fact that Harry Thomas can whip out his chainsaw and have squirrels appear, instead of disappear. And I like the fact that he creates his squirrel sculptures out of wood (hopefully not displacing any squirrels who lived in the redwood trees from which he gets his raw material.)

Red squirrels carved out of redwood? It seems a natural pairing. Squirrels are arboreal, after all.

Now here in the States, maybe someone can follow Thomas' example and carve pine squirrels out of trees from the pine forest and black squirrels perhaps from the wood of the black maple.

Ah, but the real challenge is this: What do you create a chipmunk from? WOOD CHIPS??

The sacred squirrels of India

There is a beautiful story told in Indian mythology about brave and industrious little squirrels who mustered courage and strength to help build a bridge across the sea to save a king's beloved wife, who had been kidnapped by a monster.

Though monkeys loyal to the king immediately set to work carrying formidable rocks, the tiny squirrels could only carry pebbles, and for this they were disdained and cast aside - with one squirrel hurled, nearly to his death by one angry monkey working among the bridge-builders.

The squirrel's life was more than spared, however. Rama caught the little squirrel before any harm could come to him. And then he - and all squirrels since that time - were given a blessing by Rama, signified by the three stripes across the back - the gentle fingers of Rama's hand leaving their indelible marks.
I first learned of this story from my friend Arul, who was born in India and is there now on a fellowship, reacquainting himself with these sacred squirrels. They visit his apartment terrace, much to his delight (and theirs!) And I was reminded again of this story by fellow blogger Vineeth Sukumaran, who sent me links on the Flickr website to the beautiful photos you see here, the descendants of the blessed palm squirrels.

How fortunate that there is a place in this world that reveres these beautiful, intelligent animals - and protects them from harm.

I wish the western part of the United States could feel the same way about the squirrels' cousins, the prairie dogs, who are being poisoned and gassed daily. And I wish the United Kingdom could also rethink the way it is dealing with an admittedly problematic overpopulation of introduced greys.

I think we need more myths, and more realities born of such fine myths, to build a bridge of understanding between humans and animals often perceived as "pests" or "vermin." Perhaps can we can take our cue and our inspiration from the Indian striped squirrels, and help build that bridge ourselves, one strong pebble at a time.

Robo-rodent

Even in his tough guy "Terminator" role, Arnold Schwarzenegger might not know how to resist the nut-begging antics of this one Amherst, Mass. squirrel: Rocky the Robotic Squirrel is part of a behavioral experiment undertaken by scientists at Hampshire College. And he has a lot in common with Arnold because he is a mechanized life form (without the trademark angry scowl of AHHHHNOLD's "Terminator" role). Perhaps we should call him The Squirrinator.

As he twitches his limbs and barks his prerecorded squirrel noises, his every movement is computer-controlled by researchers watching, through their binoculars, from not too far away.

(Here's the link to the story, http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5jvzEsptLwUXYQOaQm5WrTA_8e-cwD90DNC501,
graciously provided by Poetikat, who has proven herself time and time again to be a true lover of squirrels, both furred and robotic.)

Rocky's mission is to interface with the real live locals, flick his tail, stamp his feet and crack the code (if not a few nuts as well) on how the local bushytails communicate. You would think in a New England college environment, the curriculum on this campus might simply opt to offer Squirrelese in their Department of Foreign Languages, instead of having to resort to such extremes. I guess, however, Rocky was born (or constructed) to learn the lingo through "language immersion."

The question remains: Once Rocky has gotten an "A" for his efforts and compiled the lexicon, what next? Perhaps Hampshire can offer adjunct professorships for some of the more eloquent squirrels living on campus - with Rocky, because of all his efforts, presiding over them as chairrodent of the department?

So he's not the Squirrinator after all. Just another "Nutty Professor."

Two fragile lives, two delicate decisions

I'm not saying that being a wildlife rehabber isn't rewarding - it is.

And I'm not saying that being a rehabber is easy - it isn't.

But two tough decisions, and the directions of two lives, hang in the balance in the next week or so....and time is running out on both.

I have a young female squirrel in my care - she has seven toes on her right rear leg, making her mobility somewhat hampered. (Massa, the little squirrel, is one of the subjects of my April 22 post). But it is hard to tell whether she is also somewhat neurologic, another factor perhaps in her awkward way of moving.

Two people whose opinions I highly respect (and who also work with animals) have suggested I have the two extra toes removed surgically by a vet. This is not uncommon but still, a source of concern for me. Still, I may have to make this decision soon. She is now about 9 weeks of age, and growing and.....developing from a somewhat user-friendly juvenile into a wild squirrel - as nature intended. That would make surgical aftercare problematic if I waited too long.

She is on my mind and I will investigate this further - seeking the opinion next week of my vet.

The other squirrel, also female, is a wild adult who frequents our property and is among the friendly ones who "stalks" me for the nut handouts that comprise a major part of our weekly household budget.

As wild squirrels go, she is sweet. And she comes very close (I have a photo of her I hope to post here soon). A couple of weeks ago, I noticed something white protruding beneath her left nostril and I thought perhaps it might be a solidified nasal discharge or something along those lines (yes, squirrels get boogers too!)

Then I found, on closer examination when she came to feed, something that disturbed me even more: It is actually her upper incisor, growing through the front of her face! And yes, it is getting longer each day.

What puzzles me is this: normally when there is this kind of overgrowth there are other issues. Infection, for one thing. Irritation, for another. And thirdly, an equally troublesome overgrowth of the opposing lower incisor which should be meeting the upper, and grinding against it, so both teeth stay short.

If this squirrel is truly suffering from malocclusion (in that her teeth do not line up), it seems to me that she would have had worse jaw issues by now and would have starved. Instead, she can take nuts, presumably crack them, is fat and happy and seems none the worse for the wear. At least for now.

My dilemma here is - do I trap her and take her to have the tooth trimmed? And then.....re-release her only to have this same issue come up again later?

For both squirrels I wonder: When does intervention cross the line and become interference?There are no easy answers to this.
Two lives depend on me making the right call.
Stay tuned.

A "Pip" of an encounter

I learned this weekend that living in the Blogosphere, as many of us do, can help us save lives in the RealWorldosphere, the alternate universe where everyone else lives, off-line. What a good feeling.

A fellow blogger, Poetikat, who usually makes wonderful display of her heart through her verse and imagery, showed her heart this weekend through her actions - she made an emergency rescue of a baby squirrel in her yard. She did this despite her own infirmity - she was still suffering the aftereffects of an allergic reaction to medicine, but somehow retrieved the little fellow while still clad in her pajamas (that is to say she was the one wearing the pjs, the squirrel was clad in his customary outfit). She e-mailed me, I tracked her down by phone, we consulted on what to do, and she made the baby comfy for the night and, by morning, she was enroute to a wildlife rehabilitator through a network I had found for her.

Poetikat and I are not within easy walking or even driving distance from one another. But this resourceful caring Canadian tracked me down here in the U.S. and the rescue of "Pip," as she has since named him, may well make him an international celebrity - the world's first NAFTA SQUIRREL RESCUE!

During this same weekend I cared for, but could not save, a female adult squirrel who had been brought to me, likely hit by car, and in horrible shape. As I cheered the happy fate of "Pip," I cried as this unfortunate adult squirrel grew cold before my eyes.

Still, it is good to know we are all connected this way - not just by our respective Internet servers but, more importantly, by our hearts.

Squirrel has a blog, but no home

You read that right. A homeless squirrel. Anyplace he hangs his nuts is home. Only he doesn't have one.

Meet "Treeless Squirrel." Here's his blog: http://blog.treeless-squirrel.com/
He also has a video on http://www.youtube.com/ - and apparently, quite a following.

Made homeless by the cutting down of too many trees, this activist-vagrant has taken to the streets - and the blogosphere - with the gentle battlecry to PLANT MORE TREES. He devotes his blog to different varieties of trees - and handles the rodent real-estate crisis with grace and expertise that would be the envy of any human real-estate agent.

Humans may have Habitat for Humanity; rodentia has Habitat for Squirrelry, and he is its founder, an articulate, likeable, one-of-a-kind character you won't soon forget.

But then, that's the idea, isn't it?

Santa Monica, a city with a heart

Just a few minutes ago, a colleague here at work brought me a collection of six photos that have become available through the Getty Images news service: they are beautiful portraits of squirrels. Some are clinging to trees, looking stately and squirrelly; others are just hanging out and have had their faces captured in glorious close-up. The photos show these animals with soft, intelligent eyes and inquisitve expressions on their faces, and are meant to accompany an announcement by the City of Santa Monica in California, that officials there have found a humane solution to the overpopulation of squirrels in Palisades Park.

The county wanted to solve the problem by trapping and euthanizing the animals (just imagine what this kind of governmental thinking might opt to do in an overpopulated Third World country!) but the city came up with an alternative - contraptive vaccines.

Well, squirrels have no ethical or religious doctrines against such interventions. And yes, they can be promiscuous from time to time.

Of course squirrels also have no health insurance coverage that might underwrite the cost of birth control. But the city, bless its collective heart, is picking up the tab. No squirrels will be harmed (just vaccinated) and, over time, the population should reduce considerably.

I'm not sure how I feel about manipulating the balance of nature like this but, seeing as an entire city was built long ago on land that was formerly wild, the balance of nature was actually tipped a long time ago. The best we humans can try to do is protect what's left by doing no harm, and particularly by not killing.

Maybe our neighbors in Britain, who have been killing grey squirrels as they imperil the native reds, should visit Santa Monica?

The squirrel factory is open for business

Actually, the squirrel makers have been in business since winter (that was breeding season) and now, since February, the production line has been rolling out the latest spring models (birth season seems to get longer each year).

Two of this season's current models are in residence here: both are female and both arrived, separately, but within 2 days of one another. One is 5 weeks old; the other, closer to 6 weeks of age. Angel, the younger one, arrived bloodied about the nose, with a split and equally bloody lower lip. Her teeth, thank goodness, remained straight and intact despite what I presume was a fall with full frontal impact upon her beautiful face. So far, no signs of neurologic damage - something we dread with this kind of injury. She is nursing nicely, she is eating solids and she is being very squirrelly.

The older one, Massa, is still a bit of a mystery. The homeowners said she was on the ground for a few days, unable to climb, and had a "leg injury" but I suspected it was not so much a leg injury but perhaps a neurologic impairment. Now that I see her, she is not so terribly neurologic (she is twitchy and nervous but that is understandable). Something's up though. For one thing, the suspect leg - right rear leg - has SEVEN digits on it. A squirrel's rear leg should only have five.

Stay tuned on this one. I would like to put them together in the next day or so once I am convinced there is nothing contagious going on (I routinely quarantine new admissions.)

It could be that the squirrel factory turned out a little baby that grew to have defects and Momma didn't honor the warranty.

She'll be safe here. They both will be.

Sleepless in Seattle

From the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, comes this lovely essay written for the newspaper's blog, about the horrors of being a motorist who cannot stop in time to save a life. I encourage everyone to read it for its beauty and compassion.

I have written the author privately to thank her for expressing the experience so well.

http://blog.seattlepi.nwsource.com/straddlinglife/archives/135616.asp?from=blog_last3

Why does no one take notice?

Pulling out of the driveway this morning to run an errand, I saw the very thing I dread whenever I am behind the wheel: Some motorist had struck a squirrel on our quiet street, probably within the hour, and left him to die.

How could no one have noticed?

This is a residential area, not a lot of traffic, and rarely is there a need for excessive speed. This squirrel no doubt was among many we had fed just a few hours earlier at our back door. I have no doubt he was a regular feeder in our yard.

How can someone hit an animal like this and not have noticed? How could someone not have stopped?

And so I came upon his body, just as I was about to pull my own car out of the driveway, and ran to get him out of the middle of the road, where he had died. He was still bleeding despite the life that had already left him. It is a quiet street, there is not a lot of activity and yet, no one noticed. Or if they did notice, they didn't seem to care.

A man driving an SUV suddenly rounded the corner and was bearing down on the both of us as I knelt in the street by the body. I wrapped the squirrel gently and stood up, holding his little body high, and in the direction of the SUV, so the driver could see what I had just recovered from the road. The vehicle was marked with the insignia of the local volunteer fire company - many firefighters, I am sorry to say, often come barreling through our streets even when no alarm call has gone out.

The man shot me a very indifferent look. Who knows, it could even have been his own car that, moments earlier, struck this squirrel.

True, this was a small moment in an otherwise large and busy day and most people would not bother to stop for a small dead squirrel in the road, as I did.

And that is OK. I would much prefer, if next time, they stopped - and took notice - to keep more of them alive.

Squirrel for a day

American TV used to have a show in the early 60s called "Queen for a Day." Its popularity was drawn from its ability to tug at, if not completely unravel, the public's heartstrings. Women would appear on camera and go head-to-head (or tearduct-to-tearduct) with heart-wrenching stories of personal difficulty, and the one who left viewers drenched in the highest possible ophthalmic tsunami would wear the crown and carry off the financial bounty to help solve her considerable woes.

Now we have Squirrel for a Day. At least two news items in the past week have placed people nicknamed "Squirrel" on opposite ends of the popularity spectrum: From Middlesboro, Tennessee comes news of the death of David "Squirrel" Newton Cardwell, a Vietnam vet, proud father, avid golfer and obviously someone who - as his newspaper obituary states - was beloved for his sense of humor. We have no clue as to why he was called "Squirrel" but it is obviously a term bestowed with great affection for a man who will be missed within his circle of family and friends.

At the other end of the bushytail is news of the arrest, reported in Idaho media, of "Earl the Squirrel," a fugitive from Oregon. Unlike the Tennessee "Squirrel," Earl Leslie Wayland Jr. is very much alive and was wanted on felony warrants for what is described as a "one man crime spree" that included burglary and battery. It is doubtful that this "Squirrel" monicker was given by an adoring public, circle of friends or even law-enforcement authorities.

Clearly, squirreldom is in the eyes of the beholder, depending on how you feel about rodentia and the derivatives thereof. I vote tonight for Cardwell's variety of the species, who tugs at my heartstrings, even with the little bit of information his newspaper obituary provided.

A life well lived, which was obviously true in his case, makes us all glad to be squirrels - if only for the day.

Praise for the purple squirrel

Question: Why is this squirrel purple?

Answer (choose one):

1. Because he isn't ripe yet

2. Because his mother threw him in the laundry with all the purple T-shirts

3. Because he fell into a glass of merlot

4. Because he became a serial killer in a vineyard

5. Because Barney the Dinosaur sat on him.

Correct answer: None of the above (but nice try anyway)

A Purple Squirrel is a rare breed, a one-in-a-million job candidate - as I have learned from reading the blogs and web sites of several recruiters and employment specialists. Our company is downsizing and lots of folks are making every attempt to aspire to Purple Squirreldom.

A Purple Squirrel is the "PERFECT" candidate who fulfills all the qualifications that describe a job.

In short, a Purple Squirrel is a tough nut to crack. We should all try to become like the Purple Squirrel.

Squirrels take Manhattan, and what a deal!

Mark Garvin, it seems, is the Donald Trump of New York City Squirrel Real Estate - except he is a most benevolent creator of high rises.
Garvin is also the Cecil B. DeMille of metropolitan planning - he does things in a big way.
He may also be the more mature Harry Potter of wildlife wizardry - he made something dazzling and wonderful happen instantly, and made so many people and animals happy.

Here is an Associated Press account that ran in the media recently. If I had Mark Garvin's e-mail address I would write him personally to thank him, and I'd urge all of you to do the same.

NYC Man Pays Hundreds for Squirrel Homes
NEW YORK (AP) — What may be the cheapest rooms in Manhattan are made especially for squirrels. A self-appointed protector of squirrels has paid to have soft-pine boxes made for the critters and had them placed in trees at City Hall Park.
Mark Garvin said he paid a "couple hundred dollars" to have each of the boxes made. The Parks Department installed three at the park.
Garvin, a biologist, said he and his wife appointed themselves caretakers of about 60 or so squirrels at the park after 9/11.
"That whole park was coated in white dust," he said. "The animals were dying over there, so that's when we really got determined."
The Parks Department also maintains refuges for squirrels at other city parks, as well as shelters for animals the agency deems important because they feed on pests.
Citywide Parks Ranger Capt. Richard Simon said squirrels have many uses.
"Old people like to feed them and the tourists like to see them," he said. "They're just very friendly, and they're cute."

Fat city

And now, let us celebrate corpulence.

Our prime embodiment of Rodentian Avoirdupois, pictured here, is named Sumo. She appeared on our property in 1995 and was the first squirrel I had seen who possessed no neck. She was able-bodied, agile, and large in every way - including appetite. She is pictured here on a platform feeder where she would often enjoy a 12-course meal much in the style of Henry VIII.

Her lack of a well-defined neck in no way hampered her from bending down and touching her toes, and then touching any food strewn about those toes.

It is winter, and the temperatures have suddenly reaffirmed the season this week, and so I have been thinking lately about Sumo - an icon among all squirrels for her nice reserve of "fuel to burn." In December of that year, we humans struggled along with oil heat, gas heat or perhaps wood in some stoves and fireplaces, but Sumo efficiently burned her 9 kilocalories per gram of fat, a rather clean-burning (if not lean-burning) engine.

Sumo visited us steadily for not quite a year before moving on or otherwise taking leave of us. I miss her in a big way....which is of course, the only way one could possibly miss a squirrel like her.

A break to liven things up

After sadness, a bit of lightness for which I have to thank my good neighbor to the north, Poetikat. She has tagged me ever so gently with this friendly 4x4 meme, and I dutifully respond, with the same enthusiasm in which a squirrel retrieves a precious tossed pecan:

FOUR JOBS I HAVE HELD IN MY LIFE:

1. In an era well before MS Word and such software toys as "mail merge" I typed names and addresses on envelopes. And then on more envelopes and more envelopes and then....on address labels. And then on more envelopes. And more envelopes. (Well, you get the idea. I typed 95 words a minute, most of it accurately, so the envelopes and labels just kept piling up awaiting my handiwork.) Oh and did I mention, more envelopes?

2. I was also a radio advertising copywriter and producer, at a small market radio station that was situated, strangely enough, only a mile or two from where I am now living. Clients requiring original (and hopefully humorous) copy included a small independent grocer, a place that sold sewing machines and, yes, even a neighborhood farm stand. (For that commercial, I had the announcer read my highly descriptive copy while attempting to eat a juicy ear of freshly steamed corn on the cob. It left the studio a mess of cobs and kernels.)

3. Shoveling horse poop. The less said about this the better. Use your imagination. I did not do this for remuneration (or re-MANURE-ation, as the case may be) but in exchange for riding lessons.

4. Newspaper copy editor. (See previous item with reference to shoveling huge quantities).

FOUR TV SHOWS I RECORD:

Sorry but I must pass on this part of the meme. I don't watch TV, either recorded or unrecorded.

FOUR PLACES I HAVE BEEN:

1. I was in Dallas, Texas, in 1979 to attend a national newspaper conference and while there visited the site where President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. I also now know why I am a devoted northeasterner. I could never stand the heat down there, even without the humidity.

2. I have been to Chicago, Illinois a couple of times - the last time, it was to attend the wedding of a friend who lives and works there. I like the fact that, unlike Manhattan, it is cosmopolitan in a midwestern way and infinitely more navigable by car.

3. I went to Montreal during the 1980s and had a great time staying in a hotel that was run by students who were training in the hospitality industry. I felt like I could be the lousiest guest and I would be doing them a great service because they would work hard to earn an "A" - pleasing the most curmudgeonly of guests. In the end, however, I turned out to be a most agreeable guest. My plans to make trouble were shattered by an unbearable sense of guilt over my intentions.

4. I have also been to Hell and back. At least this week. Our employer is in the midst of having buyouts and layoffs. (OK, maybe this location doesn't count, particularly for readers who don't believe in Hell. So let me also say I have been to Lewes, Delaware for the annual migration of the shorebirds along the Atlantic Coast. They stop in the area known as the "DelMarVa" peninsula to feed on the horseshoe crabs and it is a wonder to behold, even if you are not a birder.)

FOUR FAVORITE FOODS:

1. Scottish or steel-cut oatmeal. Yum. I'll eat this for breakfast in the morning, even in the heat of July. Serve it to me with sliced bananas and a cup of coffee and I will follow you home.

2. Any vegetarian Indian food. Samosas. Dosas. Anything with paneer. And oh my God, anything with dal.

3. Natural chunky peanut butter on a toasted pumpernickel bagel. I will run you over using a bulldozer, without a second thought, if you stand between me and this favorite lunch.

4. Foods with pumpkin. Pumpkin filled ravioli. Chunks of pumpkin over Afghani rice. The pumpkin-sweet potato soup I make in my own kitchen. I think I want to turn into a pumpkin.

OK, I am done!

Goodbye, little one

I never got to see the squirrel but, by two accounts, she was about a week old.

A rescuer phoned today reporting that he'd found a baby squirrel a couple of days ago and was seeking placement and proper care. He was hopeful I'd be the one to take the baby: He'd been given my name by a wildlife group which, unfortunately, didn't tell him that because of my full-time job and the newborns' high maintenance, I can't take any in.

Or perhaps that was fortunate: Because I at least had the name of a rehabber he could call - someone who not only rehabs newborn squirrels well but has an incubator and a full service nursery for them. He immediately called her and took the squirrel there.

The squirrel, which turned out to be a little female, died within an hour of his handing her over. Perhaps she had grown too chilled at one point earlier and never recovered fully from that dangerous loss of body heat. Perhaps it was the delayed aftereffects of prolonged exposure after she was orphaned but before she was brought indoors.

We will never know. I do know the instant I heard he had found someone to take her - and drove the baby there - I felt hope. An hour and a half later, I crashed when I heard the news. I thought that maybe, just maybe, today I could help save the life of one of the first newborn squirrels of the 2008 "spring baby" season.


I've been down this road before on the rare occasion I have had any newborns in my care for any period of time. They are fragile beings. They are born with everything they need to grow into perfect squirrels within a matter of weeks, but an interruption in their life - a fall from a tree, or being orphaned - challenges their realization of that destiny.

The photo on this page is not a photo of her - but it might as well be. I took this photo about 8 or 9 years ago after another rehabber stopped off at my house to show me the newborn she had just picked up. We did a very quick photo shoot (I had never seen a newborn squirrel before) and then she headed home.

This photo stands as one of many reminders that life is precious and fragile. In this photo he is pink and still breathing, the image of a viable newborn etched forever. But the baby in this photo didn't make it either. He died only hours later.

Happy endings and humility

There's nothing like being bested by a rodent or two to instill, or reinforce, one's humility.

Alaskan journalist, Richard Chiappone, tells of the philosophical war he had with his wife recently about the presence of the non-rent-paying tenants living the life of Martha Stewart under the roof of their cabin. She was pro-squirrel; he was anti.

Suspicious of their propensity toward chewing wires and wreaking other kinds of havoc, he set about displacing him. (Disclaimer: No squirrels were harmed in any of these acts.) The surprise ending is somewhat of a happy one (at least for the squirrels and his wife).

Here's the link. The narrative is a little like a squirrel tail itself - somewhat long and of course luxuriously bushy. But trust me, you will be glad you read whole thing.

http://www.anchoragepress.com/site/basicarticle.asp?ID=497

Social climbers

Inspired by having seen far too many cars on the road bearing the boastful bumper sticker, "This car climbed Mount Washington," I would like to suggest a certain bumper sticker for a certain squirrel in our yard.

"This squirrel climbed our storm door."

How he does it (and yes, it is a male) I do not know. That outside door, leading to the deck on the eastern side of our house, is pure smooth metal and glass. And unless this is the world's first rodent to have suction cups instead of claws affixed to the ends of his digits, I am baffled at where he comes by this talent.

He does this regularly and hangs there, looking in. Often he does this just as I'm settling down for my beloved breakfast of Scottish oatmeal with sliced banana. Or my lunch of chunky peanut butter on a toasted pumpernickel bagel. Or sometimes if I'm just having my coffee and reading whatever book I happen to be immersed in.

He disrupts me with his steely-eyed glare, delivered from a gravity-defying 6 feet on high, a climb miraculously achieved solely to fulfill his aim to manipulate through guilt: feed me. Feed me. Feed me again.

His appetite holds me hostage. So too does his athleticism and cuteness.

Today he was in position again, toward the very top of the door, staring in at me just as I started rinsing the dishes after lunch. Only this time, he had company - another squirrel was now hanging on the opposite side of the door.

Looks like I'll have to buy twice as many bags of nuts next time I go shopping.

And a second bumper sticker.

As American as apple pie

To some folks, there's nothing like apple pie, backyard barbecue, hot dogs and hamburgers to symbolize good old American cuisine. My vegetarian sensibilities have trouble with some of this, of course, but I am willing to accept them as part of our national culture. Some of my best friends do, after all, suffer from burger breath.

Much has been made lately of presidential hopeful Mike Huckabee's predilection toward collegiate squirrel-eating. Debates, jokes - and even a few recipes- have been added to the public verbal fray. One of the more recent entries into the dialectic is posted below, and was written to the Boston Globe, which posted it on their web site, boston.com

MIKE HUCKABEE, in my opinion an honorable man, has been ridiculed for eating fried squirrel while in college. This is better than smoking dope, swallowing goldfish, or stuffing people in phone booths. There was a time when squirrel was a mainstay in the diets of the Founders, who, at great risk of life and fortune, defended the principles upon which our nation was established.

I come from a part of the country where squirrel was common fare to the family of a hard-working coal miner. I now live in a part of the country where many people still eat squirrel. Some of us also eat rabbit, venison, frog legs, gator tail, catfish, and even a bite or two of rattlesnake every once in a while. We also are willing to defend the principles upon which our beloved nation was founded.

I find it interesting that this fellow equates squirrel-consumption with patriotism. I thought our nation's colors were red, white and blue - not gray and red. I am getting a whole new take on civics from this New Englander's letter to the newspaper.

So I will keep this in mind as our nation celebrates Presidents' Day on Monday, a federal holiday on which Americans give thought not just to the men who kept our country strong in years past, but those who, like Huckabee, aspire to lead our nation toward a brighter future.

In Huckabee's case, not so much brighter - but bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

I shudder at the very thought.

Let's talk politics

The presidential election just got way too squirrelly for me.

A Wall Street Journal article about GOP candidate Mike Huckabee - already not the favorite on my list - recaps a recent TV interview Huckabee had with journalist Tim Russert. The interview concluded with a query about the now-famous "squirrel-eating episode" that capped Huckabee's collegiate days.

Here's an excerpt from the WSJ article:

Was it true, he asked the Republican contender, that he had fried squirrel in a popcorn popper in college? Mr. Huckabee confirmed his prior squirrel consumption but appeared to back away from defending the flavor. “It’s not the best thing in the world,” and doesn’t really taste like chicken, he conceded.

I realize there are regional and cultural differences in this world, even in this nation, when it comes to our choices for ingestion, and I also realize I'm at a disadvantage here as a vegetarian - but I also believe it's a big world and people have free choice.

But why in the 20th century with supermarkets, farm stands and the like would a presumably civilized person do this - with a popcorn popper no less?

I suppose we should be grateful he is in a political career and didn't pursue a culinary one. If he had morphed into the male Martha Stewart or Rachael Ray a lot of us would have had to head for the hills.

Still, I don't know what is in worse taste - the way he felt about squirrel or the way I feel about his candidacy.

The color of spring's squirrels

At about this time of year, when we are halfway through winter, people start thinking that soon they'll be trading snow's white for spring's green. At least that's how it is here in the Northeast.

In Brevard, N.C., however, folks stick with white, right up through May. And it's not because of unseasonally late snow storms.

This is the fifth year of that community's White Squirrel Festival. I've never been to it - in fact I have never even been to a Gray Squirrel Festival or a Black Squirrel Festival - but you can be sure the whole town goes (appropriately) nuts.

What's extra nice is that this year's festival is occurring within the Chinese New Year of the Rodent (or the Rat, to be more precise).

For some squirrels, it doesn't get much better than this!

Groundhog envy??

As the great entertainer, Jimmy Durante, used to say "everybody wants to get into the act."

An excerpt from the web site, news.scotsman.com, below - and this sweet photograph above, which appeared there - has me convinced that Groundhog envy is all the rage. The web site reports that this squirrel, a souslik, is a prognosticating Eurasian ground squirrel valued by the local zoo.

And you can easily see why this little creature is prized. Apparently too, like so many of the souslik's American cousins, it is also threatened with a shrinking population.

Here is the excerpt from the article that accompanied the photo:

Edinburgh Zoo's resident weather experts are a family of European sousliks, a type of ground squirrel and close relatives of the groundhog.And on Saturday the animals decided it was too cold to even emerge from their burrow – which is being taken as a sign the recent cold snap is set to continue.The US is also in for a long winter after Punxsutawney Phil, which featured in the hit movie Groundhog Day starring Bill Murray, emerged on Saturday and saw his shadow.

Edinburgh's version might not attract crowds as large as those that gather in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania every year. But Graham Catlow, animal department manager at Edinburgh Zoo, said the sousliks' predictions would become a regular attraction."We've had them for 18 months, but I don't think anyone was really aware of this last year," he said. "This year the weather was just too cold so they decided to stay in bed, which is probably a pretty good sign that we are in for some more bad weather."

Six more weeks of winter!

Punxsutawney Phil has spoken.

OK, he's a cousin, not a conventional "squirrel," and his meteorological message was interpreted by humans, rather than transmitted by from word-of-rodent-mouth delivery. But he has told us six more weeks of winter and we obedient humans had best bundle up for the duration.

Groundhog Day finds its roots in old German tradition but its draw has somehow survived, and flourished, in the New World. Out west, we now have Prairie Dog
Day, honoring yet another squirrel cousin - this one, an endangered variety.

Does anyone suspect that the manufacturers of winter outerwear perhaps sponsor these Groundhog Day events, a true celebration of winter, with each outerwear company bribing their own local prognosticators (we have them in New York too), hoping to make a killing in late-season parka and snow boot sales?

Nah. Me neither. I'm cynical but I'm not quite that jaded. Not yet anyway.

I think it's great that this tradition endures, and has even evolved into something new in the western states - a plea for prairie dog preservation. This turns an old European superstition about a big burrowing squirrel into a plea for environmental awareness out West and protection of an imperiled animal.

Meanwhile, it's still winter. And it will be for a while. But we can look forward to a bright new season nonetheless, one of Increased Squirrel Awareness coming out of the shadows.