The toothsome truth

As the late rocker Jim Croce's lyrics advises us, you should always pick your battles wisely: Don't tug on Superman's cape. Don't spit into the wind. Don't pull that mask off that ol' Lone Ranger and ... don't mess around with squirrels' teeth.

Those ever-growing, razor-sharp incisors - the apotheosis of calcium gone wild - always win in any skirmish. These are teeth that can crack nuts and split bone and you don't want to cross their path enroute to dental disaster.

In Huntington, N.Y., at least one group of human dental practitioners has harnessed this simple scientific fact for commercial purposes. We hereby introduce Flossie the dentally conscientious squirrel - she appears to be a 13-lined ground squirrel, not a New York native - and Flossie is the spokesmodel not just for keeping your teeth sparkling and nutcracker-healthy between dental visits but for keeping your scheduled appointments.

She graces a postal card inscribed on the reverse with the following reminder: "We have reserved this time for your for your next dental checkup."

The card is downright cute, a word one doesn't normally associate with the dreaded dentist's chair. Combining dentistry with Rodentistry clearly has its perks and being cute is one of them. Indeed, I suspect those Huntington dentists may enjoy a greater-than-average compliance from even the most drill-shy patients who read the card and understand the ominous message hidden behind that engaging visage and those impeccably clean, well-flossed incisors:

Don't tug on the squirrel's temper. Be sure to spit into the sink after you get your semi-annual cleaning. And you don't mess around with Flossie.

Autumn of our discontent - already?

Don't ever buy a calendar from a squirrel. They're convinced autumn is already here. Never mind that neither leaves nor acorns are dropping yet from the trees: Baby squirrels are.

This little newborn was received by, and photographed by Barbara, a rehabilitator friend of mine. The orphan is what's known as a "fall baby," not because the baby fell (though that is likely), but because the orphan's arrival on the planet at this moment in time signals the birth of the season of football, back-to-school, corduroy, marble-cover notebooks and harvest time - all right smack in the middle of the current 90+-degree heatwave here in the northeast.

If squirrels had their way, they would produce a calendar that would take us squarely from June to September, skipping the entire summer. Not that I mind, I'm a fan of cooler weather. But, much as I resent department stores' presumptuousness in hanging garland and playing Christmas carols in October, or weeks earlier, I am bothered by squirrels rushing the season. What's the hurry?

To every thing there is a season - and that includes squirrel baby season, I suppose. Squirrel baby season #1, and squirrel baby season #2. Lately they seem to blend together like one big mess.

But things could definitely be worse. Imagine if squirrels made timepieces as well as calendars. We'd be faced with an even more unfortunate prospect. People would be saying, "there's a squirrel born every minute," and the wildlife rehabilitators would be the real suckers.

Skwerl'd Cup Soccer

This is Hammy, who, I'm told, would rather play soccer the conventional way than with acorns like the rest of his species. Hammy has thus been in training all year for his chosen sport.

Sadly, he did not make it to Johannesburg, South Africa for the football finals today, nor did he qualify to be part of Spain's team - which emerged the victor, despite the absence of his talents.

Besides, Hammy is not from Spain - he lives in Florida.

But Hammy will definitely be a contender in next year's Skwerl'd Cup when it is covered by ESPN (the Extraordinary Squirrel People's Network). Squirrels are, after all, naturals in this game:

They are terrific at faking out their opponents - recent news reports indicate they bury, dig up and then rebury the same nut as a way of deterring thievery by competitors.

Squirrels are also known for keeping their eye on the goal. And in this case the goal, most of the time, is FOOD.

And finally, squirrels refuse to be distracted by the mating call of the vuvuzela, whose ill-gotten cacophonies still have many humans' eardrums recovering from Post-Traumatic Stress.

It still isn't clear what a team of squirrels might do if they gained possession of the 18-karat gold trophy, which is a finely detailed sculpture depicting people standing beneath Planet Earth, holding it up. But keep your eye out for a revision of the time-honored design, with the new version sporting a few enterprising bushytails hoisting - and raiding - a gigantic feeder stuffed beyond capacity with birdseed.

In 2011, their cup - the Skwerl'd Cup - runneth over.

Small but powerful

We love them because they are cute.




We love them because they are baby animals. And for many of us, we love them because they happen to be baby squirrels, just like this tiny red squirrel, anointed with the title, "Springtime Friend" by the website, The Daily Squee.

Looking at this little creature, it's hard to believe there's a world of antipathy against squirrels out there - but there is. Is there hope that it could change within this baby's lifetime? Probably not.

The world is filled with pros and cons, supporters and detractors, friends and enemies.

Let's hope this tiny red emissary of good will is seen around the globe and spreads the word that there is more good than evil in so much of nature. This baby squirrel truly is a springtime friend, even now in the summer of our lives.

Independence Day

In the nation known as Squirrel, there are no flags. There is no national anthem, no pledge of allegiance (except to acorns and other tree nuts) and no militia. This largely peaceful nation needs no commander-in-chief, has no policy on nuclear proliferation and, for the most part, runs its chief industry - foraging and the gathering and burying of nuts - as a "green" enterprise.

Into this nation steps the interloper human, raising and rehabilitating the orphaned, the injured, the sick and the near-hopeless. In this enterprise, there is one goal in mind: To someday create an independence day for each of these animals so they can reclaim their lives.

The idea is nothing short of revolutionary.

And so, just a few days before the United States' own commemoration of freedom, two female squirrels - named PeeWee and Feisty by their respective finders - declared their sovereignty and ascended to the world of branches and clouds. It was a triumphant moment for all of us.

A day or so later, a sickly squirrel on our property, felled by a severe case of malocclusion, was brought into veterinary care where it was determined her case was so advanced as to be near hopeless. She was riddled with infection and the roof of her mouth had been destroyed by her overgrown lower incisors. The next day, Reba succumbed to her distress and we brought her body home for burial in the yard where she had lived, at least for a time, comfortably. She did not die an anonymous death, her life was noted - as was her passing. Her life was one of independence until illness and injury took it from her. We had to only surmise she would not have wanted any other kind of life, if she could not live free.

PeeWee and Feisty made that abundantly clear as two individual squirrels, with individual personalities and individual histories, transformed themselves into fast-moving blurs of gray and asserted their birthright in the woods.

Independence, in whatever form it comes, can be a treasured possession.

Open the release hatch on any successfully rehabilitated squirrel, poised to return to the wild, and every day - any day - can be July 4.

The way the cookies crumble

There's nothing sweet these days about Duchy Originals, an allegedly tasty confection that's popular in the UK.

The acorn-embossed biscuits are leaving a bad taste in animal lovers' mouths, and so is a violent plan against grey squirrels by a high-profile British royal, Prince Charles. As a staunch proponent of saving Britain's beloved red squirrels, and reintroducing them to Cornwall, Charles is once again suggesting a specific plan of genocide against greys, who are seen as the native species' enemy.

Kill them, says the unprincely royal.
Boycott them, say more than just a few animal-loving British, who believe their own culinary cull of the "nature-friendly" Duchy Originals brand will stand as a strong symbol of protest.

"We must speak out against such arrogant meddling with nature. Prince Charles may be King someday, but he is not God," said Kate Fowler, Head of Campaigns at Animal Aid, as quoted in Great Britain's Telegraph newspaper.

Added British zoologist Juliet Gellatley: "I’ve come to the inescapable conclusion that there is a minority of 'well-bred' people who may seem normal but who are bent on killing. Sadly, Prince Charles seems to be one of them, following in the footsteps of his tiger-slaughtering father."

This is serious slaughter being talked about here, and its solution cannot easily be hammed out across a kitchen table. Cookies - or rather, going cookie-less in protest - seems a somewhat weak economic sanction against such an egregious and heinous act.

British animal lovers, there's got to be a better way to put one's anger where one's mouth is.

For whom the bridge tolls

The bridges are down. They collapsed, even before they were ever built.

The Mt. Graham squirrel safety bridge system slated for construction in Arizona with $1.25 million in federal funds has become a casualty of community protest. People evidently believed it was a waste of money to create of a system of rope bridges, enabling the squirrels to bypass the highways below - the roads on which many of the endangered animals lose their lives each year.

So transportation officials dropped the project.

The bridges are thus the first casualties of this unfortunate decision.

And that means unless an alternative effort is devised by local wildlife officials, the rare, endangered squirrels will continue to be casualties for some time to come.

Bridge over troubled squirrels

Simon and Garfunkel would have a hard time retooling their original lyrics for the saga now taking place in Arizona: A $1.25 million federal grant is expected to help save lives of the area's endangered Mount Graham red squirrels through installation of 41 rope bridges that let the tiny critters traverse the highway below by safely going over it.

Unlike human motorists who cross over bridges all the time, driving like they might become endangered species at any moment, these little squirrels are indeed imperiled. The federal government declared them endangered back in 1987 and their fragile population has been carefully watched since then.

It seems the U.S. isn't the only place building bridges for troubled squirrels. Scotland's 300-foot-long Kingcausie Wildlife Overbridge, at the Aberdeen Bypass has the same goal, and in Longview, in the state of Washington, the "Nutty Narrows Bridge" has spanned 40 years - and all kinds of dangerous traffic on Olympic Way - to keep four-pawed pedestrians safe.

In each case, with each bridge, investments were made without any thought of gaining that money back by putting in itty-bitty toll plazas. No squirrels will be asked to toss any acorn-shaped tokens, or use anything like E-ZPass, before crossing to the other side.

No doubt this will cause bumper-to-bumper traffic and a whole new definition of rush-hour. These are great solutions, creative responses to a troubling problem, but there remains one still-unaddressed dilemma: What to do about all those bushytail-gaiters.

Shadows

This is not how I will remember them: Confined to an outdoor pen, reliant on being hand fed, their wild movements limited to the parameters of the enclosure that held them. No, these are not the memories that do them justice:




But they were beautiful. And they remain so, even now. Out of my field of vision forever, they are what they had been at birth: Wild and spirited and now finally - as of this morning - free. Everything they need to have a successful life they carry in their bones, their blood, their genes.

These five siblings entered my life in early spring, their infant eyes still closed to the storm that had ravaged their nest and sent their mother fleeing. She returned briefly, and took a sixth sibling with her, but these five remained.

The photos I have of them now - the most recent ones, taken only a week ago - are merely shadows of the squirrels they are going to become. Two brothers, three sisters, they came into the world together but they go forward into it now separately, as individuals.

We sent them off with prayers and our love. The trees embrace them now.

Speaking of squirrels

Chattering up in the treetops, squirrels always seem to have something to say.
But do we bother to listen?
We'd better! Increasing numbers of Corporate and Professional SpokesSquirrels are making their way into our lives.

The newest arrival is Pearl the Squirrel, official spokesrodent for the NYC Department of Parks and Recreation. Pearl came swinging onto the scene just this past spring, in grand style, and was welcomed in Manhattan's Thomas Jefferson Park as the city mascot.

Squirrel-as-mascot for NYC sure beats rat-as-mascot, as any city restaurateur will attest.

Then there's Filbert, the Freescore.com credit-minded squirrel who, teamed in this video with Ben Stein, advises folks to know the score - their credit score, in this case. Squirrels are legendary as financial whizzes so, really, it pays to heed Filbert's words.



And let's not forget Tufty the Traffic Safety Squirrel who, for more than 40 years, has been serving as an example to British children on matters of safe street crossing. Since 1961, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents has relied on him to teach street safety lessons - a rather ironic point, given the hazards squirrels themselves face on busy pavement. There's even a Tufty Club on Facebook.

So look to the squirrels for answers on everything from safe street crossings to protecting your credit rating. Squirrels can be convincing spokescritters because they never lie, they get to the point quickly and, of course, if there's a tough nut to crack, you're going to want them - and their teeth - in your corner.

Sorrow

To love animals means you will sometimes grieve even for the ones you may never know, the ones you have never held or raised but nonetheless care deeply about.You will turn your head away from the roadkill on the highway; you will avert your eyes at the images of marine life and wildlife languishing near the torrent of oil bleeding its way into the Gulf of Mexico. The pain of acknowledgement is too great.

So it is with our grief over Yoda.

This tiny squirrel was rescued in the Czech Republic, and her caretakers quickly sized up her many infirmities: mental dullness, poor swallowing reflex and no dental growth which, at her age of more than 6 weeks, should have been fully developed. Yoda had serious physical and mental disabilities but was not handicapped by any lack of love for her. The rehabilitators at the rescue station where she had been taken were committed to giving her a good life for as long as she remained on this Earth.

A Facebook posting announced Yoda's passing earlier today, and included photos of the tiny, innocent little one. People from around the Czech Republic, and even here in the U.S., from New York to Florida and beyond, had followed her saga, which opened the eyes of the rehabilitators there to the fact that even wild animals, such as squirrels, can be born with such conditions as Down syndrome.

Yoda's story nested in our hearts, and concern for her made friends out of strangers.

She was a brief wisp of life on this planet. It was not her fate to ever leave footprints in the trees. No doubt, then, her greater imprint remains within each of us who cared for her - either by ministering to her needs in person, or wishing her well from afar.

Nothing can take that away.

A holiday by any other name

In Brevard, N.C., WSQL radio is broadcasting the news that most of us already know: That Memorial Day - this past weekend's holiday - is also known by another name.

Decoration Day? True. That's what this occasion for military honor was once called, in fact. But in North Carolina, the focus is on the white, when it comes to the red, white and blue. And the stars among the stripes are the real stars of the show: the state's white squirrels.

Memorial Day marks the 7th annual White Squirrel Festival, a celebration of all things related to the beloved pale rodentia.

Granted, it's not a particularly military theme. The most combative encounters are the 5K and 10K foot races, a white squirrel dance-off (featuring two-footed hoofers) and a box car derby. Not the stuff of which patriotism is crafted, for sure.

But as a celebration of one community's natural resources, and a reminder to treasure those things that make a town, a community, a state unique in its own right, it is a fitting reminder at the start of this season of outdoor living.

Adagio is free

Perhaps if he had been named Allegro, his departure might have been easier. But from the very start, he was called Adagio, connoting music that is slow in tempo, easygoing and not necessarily quick to action.

It suited him: As a juvenile squirrel coming into my care last year, he was shy, slow to adjust, often afraid. Buddying him up with other juveniles was supposed to give him courage but instead it pushed him further behind his little protective wall.

Adagio spent the winter with two squirrels - a male and female - who got their freedom only weeks ago, after spending a long winter here, sheltered from a barren world of leafless trees largely inhospitable to the unindoctrinated squirrel. Adagio elected not to travel with his cagemates that day; he retreated, slow and steadfast, to his nestbox where he hunkered down, embracing his solitary stance against the outside world.

He would not be moved.

Today, when Adagio went free, he did it on his own terms. But his departure from the cage was accomplished only through the removal his nestbox itself - with him safely inside. He could not be enticed to go on his own. At least, not yet.

By the time the door hatch finally opened, we had carried his box deep into the woods. Still, he clung to that last piece of artificial shelter, the wooden box he'd called home for two seasons of his life. And once again, he would not be moved. He was listening to his own tempo, deaf to any other's.

Then, as if a cannon had propelled him, he shot out - and into relative obscurity. He left the life behind him - the life of wooden nestboxes and of captivity - making his final appearance to human eyes as only a blur of gray against a deep green background.

His physical pace, at last, had quickened to match that of his heart. And he followed it, without once looking back.

Let's try the Squirrel Standard!

In some parts of the world, squirrels are letting people shop 'til they drop.

Forget the face of Jefferson or Lincoln on any currency: In Belarus, the paper bank notes valued at 50 kapeek (the equivalent of $1.65 American dollars) feature a bright-eyed Eurasian red squirrel printed on one side.
The same glorious ear-tufted creature also appears, in a raised image, on the striking silver coin of that nation, worth 20 rubles (or about 66 cents.)
In the Republic of Moldova, a silver coin also features another nicely sculpted squirrel.
A similar images appears on a smallish, now-out-of-production coin minted in Norway in bronze between 1958 and 1972, served as the equivalent of the American penny. The coin is so attractive, some craftsmen have gathered it up and resold it, incorporating it into cufflinks and earrings.

Squirrels have almost always had great value as tools for commerce. But gone, (we hope) is the medieval practice of using squirrel pelts as currency. Paper money and coin is a bit more civilized, not to mention humane.

But let's take things a step further: What if the world's markets were based on the squirrel standard instead of gold or some other commodity? Would there still be a horrendous monetary crisis in Greece, or in other European nations?

Would the United States - so rich with its eastern grey squirrels, 13-lined ground squirrels, chipmunks, Richardson's ground squirrels, Mohave ground squirrels, red squirrels, Columbian ground squirrels, northern and southern flying squirrels, ever feel the pain of overwhelming debt again? Would financial markets ever know crisis? The U.S. has clearly cornered the market on rodent resources.

In theory, the squirrel standard is infallible, as reliable as a stored acorn, as solid as an oak.

So let's reinvent our world monetary systems. Squirrels needn't be the images on our currency but perhaps they can be the basis of our financial infrastructure. Let the U.S. Treasury and the Mint toss away all those ridiculous dollar bills, coins and even that silly gold bullion in Fort Knox and let's bank instead on the value of our squirrels. Let's surrender our money and take stock in the natural value of the natural world.

Europe has its euro. Let the rest of the world enjoy the Squirro.
Hey, anybody got change for a chipmunk?

Do you feel like a million?

Sweet!!

There's nothing like winning a sweet million dollars except perhaps the New York State Lottery's current campaign known as Sweet Million. The clever bit of marketing for this particular game of chance is made all the sweeter through a website featuring creatures that are both ultra-fuzzy and ultra-cute.

Presumably, this makes the visitor feel ultra-lucky.

Well, maybe so: The lineup includes a matched pair of animated eastern gray squirrels wearing tall white chef's hats, holding a tiny exercise trampoline upon which a bouncing, beribboned baby chick repeatedly becomes airborne.

The chick, presumably, already feels ultra-lucky because the squirrels don't pull the trampoline out from under him.

Like winning the lottery itself, this scenario (called a "Sweetscape") is the stuff of dreams. And visitors to the website don't have to dream too hard to create personalized sweetscapes of their own, such as this one, called "Caryn Eve's Sweetscape."

Ethereal, dreamlike, cloud-speckled and fluffy, it's a landscape that is nothing short of heavenly. The bigger question here is: Is it lucky?

Squirrels are known to be hoarders, which means if any of them have made their millions, they've done so through honest hard work and, of course, their legendary savings.
That is, until now.
Now, in the New York State campaign, squirrels are seen as being a part of the lottery sweetscape too.
Am I more likely to gamble, to take a chance on my sweet million, because New York State has gotten squirrels into the game?

You can bet on it.

Goodbye is just the beginning

And now it is time to say goodbye.

Goodbye to the two male squirrels and the female who shared our attention, our property and our lives since last autumn when they arrived here as orphaned babies.

The trees have sent out their calling cards - big green leafy ones that dangle invitingly from the branches.

This season belongs to them. The woods are echoing quietly with the sounds of the tiny feet whose generations have gone there in all the seasons before theirs.

Goodbye to three squirrels, three very good squirrels. Nature and circumstance had made them orphans and now nature and circumstance have made them whole again.

All they need for their completeness now is woodland. It is their birthright.

And so their day is coming. That day, weather permitting, is tomorrow.

My goodbye is just the beginning for them.
I will not see them again in this lifetime.
I can only wish them, on this second time around, the best that nature and circumstance have to offer them all.

One squirrel's misplaced leap

No squirrel is likely to argue with this: If you're already out on a limb and looking to jump, don't leap until you're certain the next branch will hold you.

So it was with the blog post of April 9 for "Grey and Red, A Squirrel Journal." Out on a limb is precisely the spot where we were when we sat down to declare the Prince of Wales, Prince Charles himself, as a man for all squirrels. The praise here practically constituted a coronation.

It might have paid to look a bit further. The branch to which we were leaping was not quite right. Charles is a man for red squirrels - all red squirrels, the beloved natives of his land - but God save the greys. In Charles' eyes the interloper greys are persona (or rodenta) non grata, as fellow blogger, the aptly named Lone Grey Squirrel, wasted no time in pointing out.

In a June 9, 2009 post on his own blog, Realm of the Lone Grey Squirrel, he takes Charles to task, and rightly so. The prince, it seems, has shown neither decency nor humanity in dealing with the greys brought to the UK from overseas.

In short, Charles wants them exterminated simply for the crime of living and breathing on British soil, a land they did not migrate to of their own accord. In likening Charles' not-so-modest proposal to ethnic cleansing, my colleague Lone Grey Squirrel is right on point.

History has long recorded royalty's desire to wage blood-soaked wars to protect a nation from invaders, but these are not savage warriors possessed of bushy tails and spears. The eastern gray squirrel is a victim too.

Shame on the royal family for showing no compassion for the displaced. Shame on Charles for his declaration of war in 2009. It is a fine attribute to care for and protect one's own, but an even higher calling to help those living in a strange land, with nowhere to hide.

Loyal to the death

This is a very painful video to watch.
And yet I couldn't take my eyes off it.
I will never forget the image of this squirrel, hovering protectively over the body of a second squirrel. I am guessing, from the location of the body, the first animal had been struck by a car and killed. But those are not the details that matter.

The surviving squirrel fiercely protects what is left of the other squirrel. Could this be maternal instinct that did not die with her offspring? Could this be something else perhaps?

In case anyone ever has any doubts about the emotional intelligence that thrives within these tiny bodies, watch this video. Then watch it again.

A prince of a guy

Can it be that the Prince of Wales is really the Prince of Squirrels?

It's no secret that Prince Charles is an open advocate of the imperiled native red squirrel, and he has referred to the tiny rodent as "this precious little animal," an argument it would be hard to challenge him on.


It is also no secret that he is a major player in the UK's Red Squirrel Survival Trust, which seeks to protect the nation's reds.

But the Prince obviously considers newspaper inquiries about his advocacy to be, well, something of a royal pain. A recent request by the Times newspaper in London, wanting to know more about Charles' lobbying on behalf of an ecologically (and squirrel-logically) friendly property developer was rebuffed by authorities, which called such information "a state secret."

Secret Squirrel, anyone?

Though love of squirrels should never be classified information, when love and politics mix, the rules apparently change - at least in government's eyes.

Freedom of the press is, of course, as precious as the freedom of squirrels to dance in the trees, so let's hope members of the press and members of government can sort this one out.

In the meantime, it is good to know that the Prince holds the native red squirrels dear, and that in the kingdom of his heart, they are truly the reigning species. If only they could learn to share with the greys, what a peaceable kingdom it might be.

A squirrel's best friend

Her owners call the 4-year-old North Carolina poodle Pixie.

But three baby squirrels called her "momma," at least for a while. The mother dog had just finished weaning her own puppies when her milk became precious, life-saving elixir to the three infant squirrels displaced by a felled tree in the homeowner's yard.

The Daily Reflector newspaper carried this story, and with it, some photos of the mother dog and her little adopted youngsters.

When it came time for the babies to move on to care with a licensed rehabilitator, Pixie went through some maternal loss, or so the story says. Her owners are reportedly helping her overcome some of the sadness of no longer nursing young ones.

As for the three babies, they have their own challenges that lie ahead. Two seem to be faring well but the third appears to have difficulty processing and retaining food. There likely will be no followup in the newspaper to give details of the babies' fates, but one can only hope that their time with this generous and loving mother dog will have given them all strength - especially the weakest one - to go forward in life when the time comes.