Burl the squirrel came into my life on a cold rainy February day in August 2005. The
remnants of Hurricane Katrina blew through Rochester and knocked downs some
limbs in the yard. Lorry found two little baby squirrels that had fallen out of
the tree behind the house. When I got home I looked but couldn't find anything.
Lorry got home a little while later and went out and found him next to the
garbage can. He was so tiny you could hold him in the palm of your hand and he
barely had fur. We took him inside and made him a little nest in an iron box
with rags and paper towels for bedding. I figured he needed fluids and warmth so
we started eye dropper feeding him. At first we were going to call him Katrina,
but burl the squirrel just fit better.
The next day, I took Burl to work in his little iron box. I just tucked the box under my desk at Stone Construction Equipment and snuck out at breaktime and lunch to feed him. I tried feeding him some baby formula but he obviously didn't like it. We went to the cabin for the weekend and took burl with us. I had some an supplement drink called Boost out there --chocolate flavor. He absolutely loved this stuff. His little fingers would wrap around the eyedropper and he would suck it right down. That night I got up to check on him in his little iron box and he was cold as a stone. I took him back to bed and let him curl up between my neck and the pillow. During the day, we would lay him out in the sun on a blanket (carefully watching for raptors).
Pretty soon little burl would crawl around the house and he was starting to get
more active at work. His eyes opened up and he started to grow into his oversize
feet. He still slept with us and during the day would ride around with me on my
back under my jacket. He'd poke his little head out when he wanted to see what
was going on, and perched on my shoulder when he felt it was safe to do so. I
found a chestnut hull on the floor one day and wondered where it came from.
After thinking about it, I realized he had found it in the laundry basket,
peeled and ate it. It is amazing how the instinctive behavior in animals comes
out without any training. Walnuts were the favorite after that. Chocolate too.
Go figure.
By now, he was living in the laundry room up on a shelf in the corner above the
water heater. Wondered where all the socks and washcloths were disappearing to.
We brought a branch in from the tree he fell out of and he'd climb up on it and
watch T.V. with us. He kept wanting to get up on the counter so we had to keep
the chairs away from the table. Squirrels evidently can't jump up very well, but
they can clear an amazing distance relative to their size. It was like the
squirrel olympics. I'd move the chairs away from the table and he would pick out
which one was closest and get up on it and jump to the table, then over the
stove to the counter. I'd put him back on the floor and move the chair just a
couple inches away each time till he just couldn't quite make it.
I was away at the cabin one weekend and Lorry wanted to keep Burl home so her kids could see him. He had gotten out and climbed back up the tree he fell out of. She was horrified. They were trying to coax him out of the tree with walnuts. He'd come down just out of reach. Finally they got hold of him, but he squirmed away and started back up the tree. Lorry grabbed him by the tail and ended up keeping the last inch of his tail. The kids were horrified. Poor guy, now he had a scorpion stinger for a tail tip. Eventually it dried up and fell off. She still has the little chunk of fur and flesh that came off.
By spring, he was just too destructive to let live in the house any more. We made him a nest in the storage shed and left him out during the day. At night when you got home, all you had to do was whistle and he would come running up on your shoulder looking for dinner. It was great to watch him become a real squirrel. It was never our intention to keep Burl as a pet, rather get him through a tough time and let him be wild.
One day, he must have gotten attacked by another squirrel or a cat. His leg had
a couple of puncture wounds and he couldn't use it at all. Man, the poor little
guy just couldn't catch a break. It took a couple days for him to come back. He
had abandoned his nest in the storage shed some time before that and was living
in the trees. One rainy day he showed up at the door soaking wet and hurt badly.
An infection had set into his leg and it didn't look good. Lorry and I weren't
living toghether any more, but we took him out to the cabin for convalescence.
Burl just laid on a rung of the ladder and kept watch over the comings and
goings all weekend.
After a couple weeks, he was up and running again. Burl just wasn't the same
burl any more. He was very skittish and couldn't climb trees very well with his
bad leg. There must have been some nerve damage or something because he couldn't
grip with that foot. I saw him one more time after while having a beer with
Lorry on the porch. Neither of us ever saw him again. I've never been so close
to any animal and really took it hard. I'm crying right now thinking and typing.
God speed Burl. At least you got a season in the sun. You'll always be in our
hearts.
