Growing up in the middle of Colorado, wildlife is a part of life. You get used to spotting critters, and hearing creatures of the night (nocturnal animals, not vampires) growl or howl outside of your window at 3 am, waking you up terrified and panicked, and perhaps a little wet! Also, having indoor/outdoor cats, you also get used to mice being crunched and murdered under your bed, a bat released into the room and flying around the ceiling fan, or a half eaten frog on the bathroom floor. Lovely, right? Nothing like stepping on a mouse liver in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom. Sometimes, you are able to craft a “cage” out of a bucket and a tennis racket and rescue an innocent rodent from its pending doom.
I had a cat named Murphey. I got him when he was 6 weeks old. He was jet black with huge yellow eyes, soft rabbit like fur, and protruding fangs that could have warranted kitty orthodontics. He was my boy. He was a cute, cuddly furball during the day, allowing me to push him around in a stroller or dress him up in my Cabbage Patch outfits. Maybe I should say he “let” me do these things. At night, he turned into killer Murphey on the prowl. He hunted the woods and meadow behind our house at all hours of the night. Yet, somehow come dawn, he’d be curled around my head or laying on my feet. Such a loyal cat if ever there was. He was famous for his hunting skills.
One night, I heard it. The muffled “meow” that meant he brought his mama a little present. Oh NO! What now? I threw my sheet off and ran into the hallway to see what his nightly expedition had brought in. I didn’t have my glasses on. I saw a teeny, little peach, furless body. I threw Murphey into the bathroom and shut the door so I could further investigate. I got my glasses and squatted down to have a look. WHAT THE HELL IS IT?! I ran upstairs to get my mom. She took a look too. Whatever it was, it wasn’t dead. Our respect for nature and sense of animal rights kicked in. I got a shoebox and lined it with a towel. I let Murphey out. Obviously pissed I took his little midnight snack away, he ran outside, brought in another of whatever animal we couldn’t identify, and ATE it right in front of us. Little shit.
We took the box to the garage where I tried to warm whatever “it” was with a hair dryer. The heat made it stretch. Its little eyes were still closed and its heart was racing. The only visible damage was a little scratch on the side of its body. I poked holes in the top of the lid and left him in a warm, safe garage for the night.
In the morning, I took the box to the kitchen where we were able to get a better look. It survived the night. My mom called the vet and by our description, we were told it was most likely a squirrel. We were instructed to call a wildlife refuge in Woodland Park. They advised us to try to feed it water through a dropper and they would drive out later and take it. Off I went to school and off went baby squirrel to be rehabilitated and raised. I wish I could have found the nest that had most likely fallen to the ground or abandoned by the mama.
We were contacted by the refuge a few times to be informed of baby squirrel’s progress. It was a she. She was a red foxtail squirrel. Beautiful color and fluffy, bushy tail. Finally, after a few months of therapy, they deemed her suited for the real woods. They surveyed the area around the house to make sure it was a safe place for the squirrel to be released to roam and live. It was. They brought her back to us, along with a little boy squirrel that had been raised with her. He didn’t make it. But, baby girl squirrel flourished. She grew into an adult, and well, a bit of a hussy! All the boy squirrels chattered over her and she had litters of babies. She made her home in a bird house nestled high in a pine tree. She was not shy. She would sit on the railing of our deck, outside of the kitchen, and chatter at my mom and me to give her more food. If that bird feeder was empty, she sure let us know! She was our little wildlife pal.
I would like to think she’s still alive, but I would say this was at least 15 years ago. If her spirit and livelihood say anything, she’s still patrolling the woods outside of the house. I know her little babies have grown up and are making babies of their own, so she will always be around somehow. I just remembered this story the other night. I feel proud and like I contributed something to Mother Nature. That makes me happy. Moral: if you have the chance to save a wild critter, do it! Sometimes, they can’t help themselves.
