Beans, Beans, the Magical Fruit

The sort of secret blog of Beans, a.k.a. Jules, a.k.a. "Legs for Miles" a.k.a. "Rackie the Boob Queen." Fine, ok, not the last two. Starting July 2006, sometimes "Mike," aka "fagadoccio," is a co-poster on the blog. The co-poster child, really.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

Day 4: Where's National Geographic when you Need them?

So last night, as Mom was clearing dinner and I was farting around on Gchat with Lang, she said,"OK, Julia, you wanna see the cutest li'l baby squirrel you evah gonna see?"

Answer: No thanks! I've got puppies to batter!

JK! I obviously jumped out of my seat and ran to the window, where I saw this:

This is where I wish some nature photographer had been on hand to make my contribution dream come drue.

All huge eyes, huge tail, little furry ears, and enormo bear paws. This thing was bred to see in the dark, jump trees, and play piano.

We knew, from the squirrel footsteps above our heads at night, that they had nested in the roof, but this li'l baby FELL OUT of the nest!

This is when he had backed himself into a corner and started shivering, because he was lost and couldn't find his mommy.

So naturally, I decide I'm going to feed it. But meanwhile, Mommy has called the neighborhood over to look at it, so I get bashful about putting out milk. What if it's considered retarded to feed squirrels, as if I had left meat out for a bear? I didn't want my grandparents coming over to see that I'd made Belgian waffles for a rat! Plus I knew my mom was against feeding it. (Me: "I want to feed it!" Mom: "No you're not! I'm gonna drown it in a bucket of water!")

The water-drowning seemed like an idle threat at the time, but later, my mom relayed the story to the relatives.

Mom: "We found a lost baby squirrel on our porch!"
My Aunt: "Oh, did you kill it?"

Later I admitted I had thrown it a vanilla cookie. Mom barely believed it. "Not my good Paussi cookies?" (that's the brand, Paussi-- they're like 'Nilla wafers with oat on top, nothing delicious enough to be wrested from a dying babe.)

We kept checking on the baby that night. He would climb up the wall but fall down before reaching the roof, his beautiful, new, dark brown tail flailing. (Everyone admitted it had a gorgeous coat) He tried so many times, but he couldn't make it and he just got exhausted. His tail was so cute and silky!

Sweet bush!

So Mom and I went to bed knowing the baby was still out there, in a dark world full of foxes and hawks (Mom: "A fox or a hawk probably come take it at night")and that it would probably die. Please note, my clever entreaties to ADOPT the squirrel, including "It could live on my shoulder, like a pirate's macaw!" "Let this death be on YOUR shoulders, then!" and "Would you leave ME out in the cold to be eaten by a fox?" did not work. Although I did learn that given the choice, Mom would indeed leave me in the cold to be eaten by a fox ("it's nature's way!")

Next morning, it was still there, and alive! But then it disappeared. We haven't seen it since. But now we have a new friend.

Mama squirrel thinks we killed her baby, and she's off-the-charts, Angela Basset-style FURIOUS.

And she's on our porch


Post a Comment

<< Home