The Washington Post has a cute column this week from a squirrel rehabber.
“The first squirrel showed up at my window one May day 20 years ago, clutching a crust of bread. A few days later, he brought a bagel and some friends. Then I began feeding them, and countless squirrels since. Some had names, some didn’t. Some had broken paws, torn ears, stubby tails. A lot had babies. I’ve cried over the squirrels that foolishly crossed the street in front of heedless drivers. I buried a few.”
Click to read the full article: Scampering Away With My Heart
