Yesterday, I was sitting outside in my hammock at around 6:00 in the afternoon. It was hot, but not too awfully hot. Kind of this vibe:
Suddenly a horrible shrieking rang out from the tree above my head. I leapt to my feet, trying to figure out what was making the racket--a bird? a cat?--a baby squirrel fell, PLOP! out of the tree on the ground near my toes.
I figured, it's a wild critter, I've gotta leave it alone and let Nature take its course. So I ushered the pugs inside, and an hour later, I checked.
No baby squirrel. And no signs of violence--bits of fur, blood, etc. Whew!
Today, I was fetching something out of the car, and again, I heard the same infernal screeching. I looked up into the tree, and I saw a behbeh squirrel, hanging by his toes from a leaf, screaming in fear.
I yelled, "Hang on! Hang on!" and ran to my patio to get a cat bed, for him to fall into for a soft landing.
He couldn't wait, and again, he went PLOP! at my feet. Like yesterday, he looked stunned, but he was still breathing.
But unlike yesterday, today the little furball fell out of the tree at 3 in the afternoon, and it was 102 degrees in the shade. If I didn't do something, he was going to be Fried Baby Squirrel in a matter of minutes.
I called my vet, who put me in touch with a wild-animal rescue group. The nice gal who took my call said this is the time of the year baby squirrels are getting big and restless and starting to fall out of nests if they get a little too antsy.
She suggested I put something nearby to shade the baby--but not TOO nearby so it didn't scare a momma squirrel--and see if she comes out of the tree to pick up the baby and drag it back to the nest.
Sure enough, as I watched from far away with a pair of binoculars around my neck, a momma squirrel ran around the tree and rescued baby.
I hope the little tyke learns to stay put.
I'm not sure my heart can take any more drama.