“Mais les yeux sont aveugles. Il faut chercher avec le cœur.”
(Antoine de Saint Exupéry)
They all break my heart, these lost or injured souls whom the Fates place in my hands, yet there are those who reach into my soul even more deeply than the norm. Our latest little houseguest is one of them.
A midafternoon call from my vet’s office brought the news that someone had left them an injured young squirrel. He was having trouble using his hind legs, and there was something about him having tangled with a cat. Could I come get him? Seeing as how my vet is the closest thing to a real god here on Earth where my wildlife is concerned, I said that of course I would come get him.
To my relief it was a very young fox squirrel. Not that I like any squirrel more than another, mind you, but foxers are my favorite because their temperament tends to be more mellow and often downright merry compared to the smaller greys and wee pine squirrels and chipmunks. This makes for easier treatment and a less stressful stay … for all of us.
My vet was beaming when he appeared carrying the “gas box” that held our newest problem child. Apparently this 4 month-old youngster, no bigger than the “mini-foxers” overwintering here, had enchanted both my vet and the staff with his cooperation and handleability. Turns out, however, that whatever wrangling had taken place with a cat wasn’t the real problem. My guess is that the little guy took a really bad tumble (he so far refuses to say whether due to a car or an embarrassing and tragic misstep high in the trees) and the run-in with the cat was only a secondary matter; the cat probably having come across the squirrel but the squirrel unable to get away due to the severity of his painful injuries.
He’d been thoroughly examined and the verdict was that nothing was broken. He is able to lift his tail and moves his right hind leg quite readily, less movement in his left hind leg so what is going on is perhaps bad bruising and/or sprain and perhaps some minor spinal involvement. He was given long-lasting injections for pain and swelling, and for infection, and had been treated for fleas. All that was left to do now was to give him a soft place to rest and proper food to help him heal.
I bundled him home and set up a small carrier for him. He’d apparently dozed off during the short ride and, in his mind now being rudely awakened, proceeded to fuss at me a bit as I gently lifted him from the box and put him into the carrier. But he made no attempts to bite or otherwise fight the situation. I offered him a blueberry, then some soft chow and he accepted them readily. As I helped him eat, he quietly cast his spell over me and, suddenly, I realized that I was utterly enchanted by him, too.
This was, indeed, one of the truly sweetest and most accepting young squirrels I’ve ever seen. And for some strange reason, what then came to mind was the deep truth in the story of The Little Prince: “On ne voit bien qu’avec le cœur. L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.” (Translation: “One sees well only with the heart. The essential is invisible to the eyes.”) We shall, then, call him Antoine; the fragile and innocent embodiment of the invisible, yet golden ties that bind.
It will be a joy to oversee his recovery, as long or as short a time as it may take.
