Doug's Big Adventure

I breathed a big sigh of relief yesterday when I did not find the baby squirrel where I'd left him, and went on with the business of the day.  Making the last trip around the corner to fill the feed bucket, oh crum, there he was in the doorway to the stalls, weak and struggling.  What to do, what to do?  The only thing I could think of at the moment to revive him was to dip out still-foaming, warm goat milk in my hand.  (I later threw out that bucketful.)  With a little encouragement, he began to lap at it and his movements became a bit stronger.  I still had to finish up in the barn and get back to the house, so I stuffed him in a bib pocket, one with a snap closure, for a ride-along.

In the medical supplies kept for the goats there were syringes.  I filled one with warm milk and sat down with Doug (by this time I knew his name was Doug) for his breakfast.  With tiny paws on the "bottle," Doug lapped up a little more, gaining strength.  He'd become cold and dehydrated during his night alone.  I heated a beanbag and put Doug, wrapped in clean wool from Poppy, on top.  He snuggled down and closed his eyes for a nap.  With cats in the house and my inexperience with wild babies, it would not have been right to try to raise him by myself.  I called Sierra Wildlife Rescue.  This is a nonprofit, all-volunteer group and they could not have been nicer.  With no hesitation, they agreed to take Doug, saying they'd just received three other baby squirrels and he would fit right in.  I was very happy to be assured that, so far, I'd done all the right things for this little guy.  With distance being a factor, Wendy and I agreed to meet up at the market for the transfer.  I packed up Doug and he went for a trip in the truck.  Boy, will he have stories to tell!  It was with some reluctance that I said goodbye, but it was for the best, Doug's best.