It was back in the 1970s in McLean. Coming home from school one afternoon, our two younger children, Lisa, 9, and Steven, 7, found a tiny rolled-up ball of fur lying under the maple tree out in front of our Lemon Road house. It was too big to be a baby mouse and too small to be a baby kitten. It turned out to be a baby squirrel which must have fallen out of a nest high up in the tree out in front. Bill hauled out his trusty painter’s ladder, rested it up against the trunk, climbed up and put the tiny creature back into its nest. He said there was another baby already up there.
We thought no more about it until the next morning when, lo and behold, there was not one, but two tiny furry balls lying on the ground. We realized then that they were hungry little orphans whose mother had either died or for some reason abandoned them. While we were standing there trying to decide what to do our neighbor Mike Ingrasano, out for his morning walk, stopped by. He volunteered his unused wire cat carrier to house our new charges and that is how we got into the foster parenting business.
We named the babies Wally and Polly and put them in the cage, which we kept open during the day but shut at night, under the same maple tree in case the mother had a change of heart.
In the beginning, we also wore gloves when handling them so that she wouldn’t reject them for their human scent. We all, including Michelle, 15, and Billy, 13, took turns with the frequent feedings. We gave them a mixture of cream of wheat cereal and warm milk using a medicine dropper at first and later a doll’s baby bottle. Then, as they grew and thrived, we took to putting their food in saucers at the bottom of their cage.
We moved their cage to the back yard overlooking Rippling Run, where they would have more space to roam around without getting run over. However, almost every day when they were hungry or just wanted attention, they both developed the loveable habit of coming back around to the front yard to scratch on the glass on the bottom of our front bay window. The sight of those earnest little creatures standing high on their haunches to peer in the window was unforgettable.
Bill’s parents came down from upstate New York State for a visit. Both Wally and Polly took to them. In fact, Wally developed a special relationship with Bill’s father that he’d never displayed with any of the rest of us. He would wait out in front until Grandpa came out and then, with no warning, leap onto the top of his cap! If Grandpa didn’t have a peanut for him he would scold him with a buzzing, chirping sound. But, of course, Grandpa made sure he had peanuts for both him and Molly. Soon the summer ended and fall began. Wally and Polly appeared less and less frequently until soon we didn’t see Wally at all. Polly continued to visit for another month or so but by November she was gone for good too.
Nowadays when squirrels invade our bird feeder in the backyard to try to eat our suet cakes, we are hesitant to shoo them away. We like to think they might be Wally or Polly’s descendants.