The wild animal rescue place put out an online request. They needed people who had yards with trees to take baby squirrels who were done with rehabilitation and needed to be released into the wild. Now, I try not to talk it up much, because it makes us sound like the crazy people on the block, but Smith Park West is squirrel-friendly. It started when we decided we were okay with them stuffing their faces at the bird feeders. They were as worthy of sustenance as birds, we reasoned. Then we started leaving out the sunflower seeds or roasted nuts that had sat in the pantry too long and gotten stale. Now we have fat resident squirrels who peer in the windows, not afraid of the cats at all. At this point, all I ask is that they don’t ever come in the house, or get so close to scratch or bite any of us.
Mid-day Mr S-P drove off to the rescue place. He returned with a pine box with holes on either side covered over with wire mesh. He set a bracing board high up in the chokecherry tree, wedged in the branches, and then hung the box on that with a couple sturdy screws. He pulled off the mesh, and we waited. A few hours later, I was out in the hot tub, trying to ease some aches and pains, watching three juvenile squirrels decide they might like this tree business after all, even if there is a barky thing in a cart that jingles below them. They discovered the dry raspberry canes against the fence and the half-eaten jack-o-lantern on the saw table. They hadn’t made it as far as the bird feeders by the time bad weather blew in and I gave up on the stakeout. I took a video of them when the were first getting brave and venturing beyond the confines of their box. By the time I had decided to call them Athos, Aramis, and Porthos, it was too dark to film.
I have some off-topic advice. Get all of your vaccinations. Friday afternoon, I showed up at my pharmacy with absolutely zero information about the shingles vaccine, other than it was covered by insurance and recommended by my rheumatologist. The pharmacist would never lie to me (even if her license didn’t depend on it), and she warned me it would make me feel crappy. Truth. Between blood draw, flu shot, and shingles vaccine, my right arm feels like I put it through a wood chipper. My whole body has been run over by a tractor, I swear. But I’ve been told this only lasts a couple of days. It will be worth it never to get shingles. A close family member (who hasn’t given me permission to say which one) went through it a few months ago, and was miserable. My grandmother went through it years ago, and it was one of the few ailments she ever complained about to me. When I was in fourth grade, it took a solid three weeks to get over the chickenpox. Not about to find out how long it would take if that virus came back for round two.
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