“If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence.”
George Eliot [Mary Ann (or Marian) Evans] (1819-1880), British novelist. Middlemarch, bk. 2, ch. 20 (1872).
TIME: 6:51 PM
MonkeyBoy found a baby squirrel in our yard this afternoon. We had a storm earlier this morning and the little guy probably fell out of the tree during the high winds we had. He was pretty done for when MB found him. I thought we should just leave him where he was, but I was outvoted. The next thing I knew, a box and HandsomeHusband’s old undergarments were employed as a bed; the heating pad was taken out and HH was googling to find out what to feed the rodent. I left the group to their devices and went on a bike ride (if I didn’t go tonight, I wouldn’t be able to go until Sunday). While I was gone, HH fed him a sugar/salt/water mixture while MB snapped photos. When I returned, I was sent out to purchase some puppy milk replacement. They named him “Alex” (and it is a him – HH also has to press on the squirrel’s boy parts to get him to urinate). *Sigh* It doesn’t look like he has broken anything, but we don’t know if he has any internal injuries. We’ll see if he makes it through the night, then take it from there.