Bushy - Taking Care Of A Baby Indian Palm Squirrel

The baby squirrel had soft grey fur, tiny heart-shaped ears, and a curved, slightly fuzzy tail. His dark eyes stared out at us, trying to guess our next move. We knew we couldn’t keep him in the plastic bag for long, without running the risk of him suffocating. So, I began looking for a small box to temporarily house him, before I found him a more comfortable home. My eyes fell on a small plastic box used for packing grapes, and I promptly slid the baby squirrel into it, quickly shutting the lid before he could react. The box already had little holes all around, so I knew the squirrel would be able to breathe comfortably. I named the baby squirrel Bushy, as I believed that one day he would be the proud owner of a very bushy tail.

Thinking that he would want to be fed, I pushed in some treats, which I know squirrels enjoy munching on. This included a grape, a piece of carrot, half a peanut and a teaspoon of boiled rice. I also placed a bottle cap filled to the brim with fresh water. However, the baby squirrel showed no interest in eating this food. In fact, he slightly sniffed them, before turning up his little nose in disgust, and huddling in a corner.

I realised that taking care of a baby squirrel was going to be much more complex than I had thought, and turned to the Internet for help. I googled ‘taking care of a baby squirrel’, and began reading a few of the resources that came up. Most of the pages were about rehabilitating foreign baby squirrels, like the red and grey squirrels found in North America and Europe. They talked about re-hydrating the baby with Pedialyte solution, keeping it warm, feeding it kitten formula, before taking it to a wildlife rehabber. Unfortunately, we don’t have these things here in India, so I began searching for alternatives.

I soon learnt that the little striped squirrels found in India are known as Indian Palm Squirrels. They are found all over South Asia (India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka). Unlike the adult Indian Palm Squirrels, Bushy was a mousy grey colour, and did not have the cream and chocolate stripes, characteristic of his species. I could not find any information on the Internet about Indian Palm Squirrels being born without stripes, and getting stripes later on in life.

When I found a photo of a new-born baby squirrel with stripes on Flickr, I seriously began to doubt whether Bushy was a squirrel or a mouse with a rather hairy tail. Bushy was much bigger and healthier than the squirrel in the above picture, but he had no stripes.

As if he had heard my thoughts, Bushy let out a ear-piercing squirrel yell, seemingly to tell me that he was indeed a squirrel. I switched on a bright light, and on closer observation noticed faint white lines running across his back. That’s when my long wait for Bushy’s stripes began.

Read More About My Baby Indian Palm Squirrel

• Part 3: Feeding The Baby Indian Squirrel
• Part 2: Taking Care of the Little Squirrel
• Part 1: Tales of an Indian Palm Squirrel

Bushy - Tales Of An Indian Palm Squirrel

17th March, 2012

Well, life is full of interesting happenings - some just disappear with the sands of time, while some are written into stories which are read and treasured by generations of folks. I believe that Bushy’s story is one such story. Okay, I may be exaggerating just a bit, but Bushy's story is definitely well worth a few reads.

Bushy came into my life on a wonderful spring morning. The sparrows were chirping, the bees were humming between the leaves of the jasmine bush on my balcony, and the butterflies were revelling in the warm sunshine on the special marble rocks I had set out for them in my butterfly garden. I was reading the morning paper, when I was startled by the sudden cawing of crows, as they swept through the swaying branches of the peepal tree overhead, indicating that something was up down below.

I jumped up for a peek at what the commotion was all about. Three stories below at ground level, I could faintly see the crows diving in greedy excitement at a creature so tiny and dainty, that it surely was a frail mouse…or maybe not. The little creature, however, was in no mood to be an early crow breakfast. Dark eyes glinting, it dodged about in a rather astonishing zig-zag manner, startling the swooping crows by standing up on its hind legs.

However, this didn’t impress one crafty crow, who dove down and grabbed the little creature in its razor-sharp talons. That’s when the mousy animal uttered a shrill ear-piercing scream, as it struggled with all its might to break free. No rat would ever yell like that. In fact, I recognised the scream as the screech of a squirrel, when faced with a dangerous predator. The startled crow dropped the squirrel like a hot brick, and slunk away, seemingly stunned by a bolt of grey lightning. Promptly scurrying away, the squirrel hid in the safe haven of a nearby darkened drain.

I knew that the drain was filled with rats, and was afraid that a feisty rat might attack the baby squirrel. I told my father about the squirrel. He said he had always wanted a pet squirrel, and maybe now was the right time to get one. He picked up his scooter gloves and a plastic bag, and we went downstairs to catch it. We waited a long time outside the rat’s hole, but the baby squirrel didn’t come out. The crows continued to sweep up above, looking for a chance for a quick meal. Disheartened and worried, we turned back and went upstairs. However, we continued to take turns watching the rat hole from our balcony.

A few hours later, my father saw a tiny head peek out. The baby squirrel was on the move, and so were the excited crows. This time we made up our mind that no crow would lay his creepy talons on the little squirrel. My dad rushed down the stairs with his gloves and a plastic bag, sheer determination written all over his face.

The squirrel was looking around, a bit distracted by the raucous cawing overhead. Chased out by the sewer rats living in the drain, he seemed perplexed by the bright daylight and the fluttering of wings. That’s when my father quickly grabbed him, and tossed him into the plastic bag. He struggled a bit, but soon gave up, as the bag did not do him any harm.

We took the plastic bag upstairs and laid it on the sofa. The baby squirrel was tired by his morning excursion, and did not seem to be in the mood for any more play. He seemed to know deep down that he had been rescued from near certain death.

Read More About My Baby Indian Palm Squirrel

• Part 3: Feeding The Baby Indian Squirrel
• Part 2: Taking Care of the Little Squirrel
• Part 1: Tales of an Indian Palm Squirrel