The 700 billion acorn bailout

Imagine if the economy got so bad that even squirrels needed government assistance.

Imagine if the projected value of their acorn portfolios far exceeded the market value of their tree harvests and they began planning and borrowing against this inflated value. And imagine that it spiraled upward and threatened to undo the basis of their woodland economy.

Then suddenly the acorn market - like a huge limb in a major storm - came crashing down! Who would bail out the squirrels and provide them with stability against a Rodent Recession?

In this Election Year, I sincerely doubt that any of our nation's candidates for office, or for that matter any incumbent lawmakers, have considered the possibility of such a scenario.

And fortunately, they needn't. There is really no need to worry because squirrels only save what they can gather, and only spend what they have. It's simple economics, really.

I'd like to give the squirrels credit for setting this wonderful example for us financially floundering humans, particularly those here in the U.S. who are finding the economic situation a particularly tough nut to crack.

I'd like to give the squirrels credit for moving forward through this economic crisis and continuing to gather their acorn harvest, assembling a balanced portfolio of oak, walnut, chestnut and the like, for the long winter ahead.

I'd like to give the squirrels credit - but these squirrels don't need credit, or credit cards, and would likely refuse the offer of credit because their acorns are like money in the bank. A hard stash of hard cash, not federally insured but Universally insured by Mother Nature herself.

That's something to think about, as the National Debt climbs ever skyward - up through the trees and beyond - higher than any smart squirrel would ever think of going.

Flying squirrel's slow progress

The injured flying squirrel in India is back in the news today. I am not sure whether it is progress that the veterinarians are reporting, or just the certainty of a diagnosis.

But they have arrived at the conclusion that there is definitely spinal fracture in this little fellow. Here in the States, a squirrel with a spinal fracture is usually euthanized, a tragic but often necessary outcome if the animal cannot use its own limbs or eliminate on its own. In the case of this rare Indian squirrel, there is some movement of the tail, which is a very good sign indeed. Even if he cannot go back into the wild, perhaps he can nonetheless be saved.

The vets, meanwhile, are monitoring his case closely.

So are we. We will continue to check in on him and think good thoughts.

A "get well" card for a special squirrel

A very special patient is getting intense medical attention this week at the Mannuthy Veterinary College Hospital in Kerala, India: A 4-year-old giant male flying squirrel. An Express News Service article, dated Sept. 30, described how the squirrel, part of an endangered species, had been found injured near a power line in Silent Valley National Park, and was suspected of having suffered spinal trauma.

There is a photo of him with the article. He is wide-eyed, beautiful - and very likely frightened at the prospect of being surrounded by would-be predators who are, in reality, kind humans trying to help him. There is also a story in The Hindu, another news outlet, and it indicates the squirrel is rare - and thus, much-treasured.

Knowing that this kind of gentle spirit and caring exists for this Indian national treasure is an affirmation at a time when much of what we hear includes news that squirrel hunting season is in full swing or we read stories of animal abuse and torture. It tells me the world is in balance, that there is some good that helps wipe out the horror.

Let us wish this squirrel a speedy recovery. There is an awful lot riding on it - for the injured male squirrel and for the rest of us, too.

Trying to save them all

I am upset by a New York Times article about the struggle Texas rehabbers are having, trying to salvage what's left of the baby squirrels down there since Hurricane Ike swept through. It is daunting and it is heart-breaking, and the photo accompanying the article makes me wish they could all be kept safe forever.

To add to that grief, tonight I visited an animal hospital to assess two seemingly healthy baby squirrels being kept there. True, they are safe from harm, but they are warehoused for the most part and on a substandard, inappropriate diet, largely because there is no one available in the local rehab community, during this peak baby season, to take them. So the animal hospital staff is doing the best it can for these non-paying clients. Right now, everyone, including me, is swamped. And so when I had to leave the hospital empty-handed, it bothered me. It troubles me now. It will haunt me further tomorrow.

I am doing some networking to see if we can't somehow get them placed, even temporarily, until something a little more long-term opens up for them. They need to be with someone who can care for squirrels appropriately.

I wish we could save them all. From hurricanes. And from the blizzard known as baby season. I know we can't. But that doesn't stop me from wishing.

Speaking of (and speaking to) squirrels

From North Carolina, the state that seems to have cornered the market on Eastern Gray Squirrels, comes this report, "Squirrel speak: it's more than just noise."

The state, which takes credit for the species' origin or at least the earliest records of its existence, is proud to have the eastern gray as its official animal. Better still, this North Carolina student newspaper, the Technician, in which the article appears, is going a long way toward fostering interspecies communication. It may yet give rise to a whole new career field: squirrel linguistic interpreter.

Squirrel speak: it's more than just noise - Features

Paying it forward

Wildlife rehabilitators often wonder about the impact their efforts make. In a world full of so-called "anonymous" wildlife, one squirrel is the same as the next to the uninitiated. You lose one, you save one, and the cycle goes forward, season after season.

Unless you are a part of it and hold these squirming little lives in your hands, you may not think anyone stops to grieve when one doesn't make it. But there are plenty of us who do.

And we struggle with them all. I have so far gotten 8 youngsters into care since the start of "fall baby season." In a litter of three who were nearly 5 weeks old, there was one little fellow, the victim of some kind of head trauma and only able to breathe with difficulty. He succumbed after only a few days. His eyes had just opened a day or so earlier. I am glad he got to see the world first before he left it, but I wish I had been able to do more to keep him in this world. I felt that, despite my efforts, I had not made a difference.

And then a friend in Pennsylvania wrote about a baby chipmunk he had just come across, quite by accident. The little one had no use of its back legs. He knew it was important to rescue the baby safely and get it into the care of a rehabilitator he knew.

I will never meet this chipmunk. But of course this little soul is now on my mind as if I had held him with my own hands - like that baby squirrel. As my friend wrote in his e-mail to me today, if it had not been for all those sagas, the happy and sad ones, that I shared with him, he might never have even noticed the little baby, or even made the effort to save him.

I hope he does not mind my borrowing from his e-mail, but here is what he wrote:
The next time you're weighing the amount of good that you're doing please consider your inspirational effect on other people. It was as if I had you looking over my shoulder and telling me what should be done, and I mean that in the best possible sense.

These words bring sustenance. I have to believe that the little boy squirrel, whose life passed too soon just a few days ago, has been part of that inspirational force. He - and all the others - the saved squirrels and the ones who could not be helped - are now part of paying it forward for all the little lives ahead.

And yes, there will be more. Many more.

From the treetops to the toilet?

This very odd story, which I have cut and pasted below, appeared in a recent article in the St. Catharines Standard, an Ontario newspaper. It is the story of a flying squirrel who went flying in a most unconventional manner - out of someone's toilet and into his face.

I must say, a toilet is not the most comfortable nesting spot for a squirrel, let alone any creature (even a sewer rat) and how he actually got into the toilet is a subject for conjecture. But at least there was a happy ending that was (thankfully) not initiated by the sound of a flush. The squirrel got his freedom back and hopefully is living a life devoid of indoor plumbing.

Boy gets surprise when squirrel jumps out of toilet
Posted By THE CANADIAN PRESS
Posted 18 hours ago
A young boy received quite a surprise this week when a flying squirrel jumped out of the toilet at him.
Keith Schuk went into the family bathroom earlier this week and lifted the toilet seat; a furry critter leaped out of the bowl at him and landed on the floor.
"It turned out to be a flying squirrel," said his 16-year-old sister, Marlaina. "It was wet from the water and at first we thought it was a rat. Our parents, who were both working, could not believe our story."
The 12-year-old boy arranged for a friend to come and capture it, but the brownish-black squirrel with webbing connecting its front and rear legs didn't exactly run away.
"It's a nocturnal creature, so it just curled up in a can in the bathroom and went to sleep," said Keith's mother, Audrey.
"We were able to capture and remove it while it was sleeping," she said, adding the family released the squirrel into a bush area.
The consensus is that the squirrel came down the sewer breather pipe from the roof, and found an escape through the toilet.
The nocturnal, arboreal rodents have a furry membrane extending between the front and rear legs that allows the animal to glide through the air.
Northern flying squirrels' gliding distances tend to be between five and 25 metres, with average glides being about five metres less for females.

Detours for two squirrels

We went into the woods this week to release a group of three young squirrels back to the wild: Massa, Angel and Little Fellow.
Only two, ultimately, went to freedom: Angel and Little Fellow
Our intention was to release Massa too, and my anxiety over her suitability for release since last spring has been chronicled here in this blog - the misshapen rear leg, the seven toes and the slight neurologic movement. Still, it is my job as a rehabilitator - and my intention - to see that every animal gets a chance when appropriate.
As soon as Little Fellow and Angel sailed out of the release hatch, Massa followed as if shot from a cannon. It was joyful for her, at least for the moment.
Suddenly the gift of freedom betrayed her, caused undue stress and she began to spin. Unlike her cagemates, she did not ascend to the trees. She remained grounded. I knew then she had to be caught and brought back home.
We got lucky. I placed the holding cage over her during a spinning episode and recaptured her.
My intention was to release her but Massa must be given more time now.

A day or so later, a colleague at work informed me she had rushed a squirrel to the vet on her way to the office. The animal was off the side of the road, writhing from an apparent run-in with a car. My coworker bravely scooped the adult up, found a vet she knew accepted wildlife, and left the squirrel there. She asked me to please call the vet, check on the squirrel's status and, of course, offer to provide continued care in rehabilitation after the squirrel's triage.
Yes, of course I called. But I learned less than an hour later, the squirrel had to be euthanized; the damage from the car was too great for any chance of survival.
My friend had hoped to save this squirrel and, of course, that never happened. She did spare the squirrel further suffering and I told her that what she did was a brave and caring thing.

Still, her intentions with that squirrel, like mine with Massa, had no influence whatsoever over the outcome.

So do our intentions still matter? I believe so. Without intentions we don't act at all. And without taking action, we do no good on this planet for humans or for animals.

Yes, we must keep trying.

The 2008 Squirrelympic Games

Competitive nut-cacheing.
Forward roll and other gymnastics.
Bird-feeder dismantling.
Wrestling. (Lots of wrestling).
Acorn-hurling.
The 100-yard vertical dash.
The 10-meter branch leap.
Marathon chattering.

Welcome to the Squirrelympic Games, playing not just in 2008 but every week of every year in just about every yard where you'll find trees, nests and a hospitable environment for these natural athletes.

Ok, so they're not Michael Phelps (it would be hard to fit that bushy tail into a Speedo anyhow, and I'm not sure I'd want to see the, uh, end result) - but let's be brutally honest. No one can swim a 200-meter butterfly and 200-meter freestyle like him but, can this guy crack nuts between his teeth?

Aha, I thought not.

Why do we humans have to wait every few years for an Olympic extravaganza when the guys in our yards and parks and woodlands get to do this every day of every year? They've got game, all right. (In fact the fellow pictured here with the fabulous upper body strength is from the Daily Mail, in the UK. My Connecticut friend, upon seeing his photos, decided to nickname him Squir-hurcules!!!!!)

So let's take our cue from them, for a change. Forget the gold, the silver and the bronze. Let's go for the Gray!

Because they all count

I want to write this before I forget. Because tomorrow morning, I am taking a trip to the pet crematory only a few miles south of here, with the body of a young female squirrel who came into my life late Friday and was gone from it by early Saturday.

I got the call on Friday afternoon from a woman in an apartment complex about 7 miles away. No one, not even the SPCA, had responded to her pleas to help what she thought was a wounded squirrel in the apartment courtyard. Could I help?

Catching her was easy enough. She was twitching and rolling on the ground. I held the small cage over her and she rolled in. Her twitching was tough to watch. I'm not sure if she was having seizures, or had been poisoned, or what, but I got her home, gave her some warm bedding, and after a bit, got some fluid into her slowly. She drank from the syringe, even tried to hold it - unusually submissive for an adult, even a young one - and I got the sense she wasn't completely cognizant of her surroundings.

She calmed. She slept. She ate. She even tried to nibble on a small bit of soft corncob I put in for her. When I got back from work after midnight, she took a second feeding later - some more fluids, mainly - and was voracious.

In the morning I found her stiff and lifeless. There was not a mark on her, though I know she could have fallen, or been struck by something that did not leave a readily visible mark.

I will probably never know. I do know she died warm and she was not on the cold ground that night dying her slow death under the watchful eyes of raccoons or other predators.

I did what I could for her, which was not much, in the long run.

But because they all count - at least to me -I am writing about her here because her life mattered and it was worth trying to save. Even though saving her was, in the end, beyond me.

Good "neighbours" to the North

My friends Rich and Luis have left the States for a new life in Canada - specificially Vancouver in British Columbia. I have been reading their blog and, with each new post, have been falling in love with many things Canadian, from the verdant wilderness they camped in, to the elegant newly built luxury highrise in which they've rented an apartment with glorious views of mountains, parks and the coast.

But nothing can top the squirrels. The squirrels of Canada, the ones they met and photographed, have prompted me to consider dual citizenship. This post in particular won my heart. Who can resist the little red squirrel, and the golden mantled ground squirrel?

Perhaps we need to consider a Squirrel Exchange program between our two nations. Something called NASTA - North American Squirrel Trade Agreement.

It's something to think about, anyway.

One statuesque squirrel

Members of the Richland County Rotary Club in Olney, Illinois - a city blessed with an infamously abundant white squirrel population - have come up with an idea of monumental proportions: The idea is, itself, a monument of big proportions and even bigger ambition.

Rotarians hope to commission a white squirrel statue as a tourist attraction in that southeastern Illinois community. The Olney Daily Mail, that community's newspaper, broke the story on July 31, quoting one Rotarian, a member of the local convention and visitors bureau, as drawing his inspiration from another statue - this one in Minnesota - of two figures from American folklore: the mythical giant lumberjack Paul Bunyan and his blue ox, Babe.

Now, a blue ox is no white squirrel, to be sure. And while Bunyan remains the stuff of folklore, white squirrels are an everyday reality in Olney. But like the towering Bunyan and Babe, they are indeed oversized attractions, if only by virtue of their reputation.

I had the pleasure, years ago, of posing beside an oversized wooden statue carved of Punxsutawney Phil, the prognosticating woodchuck/groundhog, while visiting that town in rural Pennsylvania. And I learned from that experience that, when it comes to tourism, Humongous Statues of Rodents are Humongous Tourist Magnets.

I encourage the people of Olney to embrace a white squirrel statue as they embrace their squirrels. They should throw it some nuts - and then throw it their support.

One Corn-Founded Squirrel!

We all have a right to be mad, but this irate chipmunk takes the cake (or at least the cornbread). He doesn't seem self-possessed - rather he seems completely possessed. Could he have just finished reading Stephen King's "Children of the Corn" perhaps (or seeing the movie)?

Thanks to my friend Chet in Pennsylvania, who captured this image of the cutest and grumpiest chipmunk on Planet Earth, we now know that squirrels have their bad days too.

Even in his apparent anger, he seems somewhat regal though, as if seated upon the cob as his throne. I can just hear him declaring, throughout the kingdom, "Off with their ears!" (This is corn, remember, not lettuce, so there's no need for any beheadings.)

Anytime I am having a bad day (and I've had a few this week that came close) I will think of this fellow. Even when the chips are down, this chip is definitely up.

Long live the King of Corn!

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!