Saturday, July 4, 2015

A Rescue

The three-year mark of my husband's passing is coming up and I feel like just maybe I am reaching a turning point. I am beginning to remember more happy times than sad ones. Family and friends will help make the 19th a lot more bearable.

A friend invited me to lunch yesterday and we visited a nearby restaurant, one Jim and I went to hundreds of times. At first I thought it might be difficult but it wasn't. At times, I could almost hear his words enter our conversation, the surroundings were so familiar and we were so at ease. I know he is not here physically, but he will always be with me. I hope this doesn't sound crazy but I feel like somehow he is guiding me along. Jim was always the strength in our marriage. I seemed to flip out over every little thing. But now I sort of feel a calmness settling around me.


A few days ago I rehung my hummingbird feeder outside my computer window with my other birdie things. I've seen the little hummingbird drinking many times already. He (or she) must have been standing by waiting for it. He is here now drinking and making tiny little "humming" sounds almost like a bumblebee. Sorry, I was too slow to capture Mr. Hummingbird.

And yesterday morning I was drinking my coffee in the swing on the back porch and all of a sudden a squirrel's nest crashed to the ground from one of the pine trees. One little baby squirrel, which didn't even look like a squirrel but like a teeny naked mouse, rolled out onto the open grass and let out the loudest squeaks imaginable. It sounded exactly like Mopsy's squeaky mouse toy. Something to the right of the porch caught my eye and there was this cat I had never seen before. Well, of course, I shooed him away, way out of the yard. I came back to the swing to watch, hoping the mom or dad would come down to get the little squealer. He must have dropped three or four stories. I have thirteen huge pines in my back yard.

I was about to give up when, yep, here she comes, cagey at first, going up and down another tree, sniffing in the birdbath, dashing back toward the fence, each time getting a little nearer on the forward onslaught. Finally, she got to the nesting material, nosed through it, then made a mad dash to the little one, nosed him around some (I saw his legs kicking), picked him up in her mouth just like a cat picks up her young, and sprinted out of my yard with him. I watched and saw her go up one of my neighbor's trees. She said my yard was too dangerous *Rolleyes*.

Then I started wondering whether that was really one of his parents. Maybe a neighbor squirrel family witnessed the event and called the Squirrel Department of Social Services, and that is who the rescuer was. It does seem like the squirrelly parents should be charged with negligence or something, after all, four stories is nothing to sneeze at. They built inadequate housing.

Okay, enough of this nonsense. The little baby was rescued and I am happy.


  1. Connie, that sounds like it was quite something -- I don't have that much action in my back yard! Glad the little guy (girl?) survived.

  2. I was sort of fascinated by it all, Robin. Thanks for stopping by.

  3. Your observations are always interesting. I especially like your idea that perhaps "a village" looks out for helpless wildlife.

  4. I think it is possible. Nature amazes me all the time. Thanks for your comment, Susie, and I hope it is true.