Ode to A Wild One

See, there was this squirrel.

It was a mama squirrel, who had nursing babies, and she dutifully came to my Crazy Tree almost every day, about mid-morning, for food. She seemed so unafraid that I tried to feed her a peanut from my hand. She wouldn't take it for the longest time, but she didn't scurry back up the fence, either.

She looked at me, and I looked at her.

I extended my offering again. And, she took it. She looked to be comfortable with humans, and I can only surmise that she had been hand-raised at some point. Or had the humans who lived here before me fed her? I don't know.

Soon, I was giving her cashews, Brazil nuts, hazelnuts, leftover breads, cereals, cranberries...whatever I thought she might like and eat.

She began to sit on the windowsill outside my studio instead of fighting her way to the food bowls full of corn and sunflower seed, waiting for me to come out and feed her. Then, she started letting me rub her head, and she placed her little paws on my hand as she took the food. She would jump on my shoulder. She would run up my jeans to my hand.

I know she was a wild thing, but I looked forward to seeing her every morning.  It made me smile and soon, she brought her three babies to the food dishes. They hung close to her, and weren't sure how to eat out of the bowl, but she would fend off the other squirrels to let them find the seeds and nuts. She still came to the windowsill to eat, and the babies were learning with her. I started placing nuts all along the windowsill when she showed up, so that they would have some, too.

Then, she stopped coming. I couldn't tell the babies from the other squirrels.

Two squirrels had accidents, apparently falling from their nest and hitting the shed roof. I buried both. One squirrel, nicknamed "Gash," had a very bad wound on his face, but he still came to eat. Another had a horrible rip in his flesh and lost the use of one of his legs. Yet another lost her tail, and I started calling her "Stumpy."

But the mama squirrel never reappeared.

The problem is, with wild things, you get close to them emotionally, although you know they will always be out there, battling the elements and predators. When they don't come back, you never really know what may have happened. There is an owl living in the cedar tree behind the shed...and there are cats from inconsiderate neighbors everywhere, prowling at will. Raccoons are known to attack squirrels.

I checked the Martin house out front (because she raised her babies inside the birdhouse). Empty. Asked the neighbors. No mention of a semi-tame squirrel. Checked the roads daily for unlucky squirrels who may have been hit by cars. Nothing.

I know I will never find out what happened. I will never know the fate of the mama squirrel. I can't even entertain options in my mind. I'm honored to have known her. I hope, if she died, it was a peaceful death.

Don't get attached to wild things.