Raising a squirrel is a lot of fun, but also a lot of work. 
In July of 2010, two tiny squirrels fell from their nest. 
Tragically, one was caught by a dog and died soon after from her injuries. 
However, my mom got to the other one in time. 
Peewee must have been only a couple of days old. 
He was completely furless and his eyes were closed. 

We had to feed him formula with an eye dropper to begin with, then switched to a puppy bottle when he grew big enough. 
He had many nicknames, including Mammal, Gruntum, and His Majesty Whimperish. 

He loved to hide food everywhere, and even now - five years later - we still find pieces of dog food hidden in boxes and fake plants. He spent a lot of time playing. He would roll around on the floor with dog toys and bounce on them. He was a very funny little guy. 

We kept him inside through the winter, but once spring came we knew we had to set him free. 
In April, Peewee ran up a tree for the first time. 
He seemed so happy as he jumped from limb to limb and ran along the branches. 
I thought that he was gone forever. But that evening, he came all the way to the other side of the yard to visit us. 

As the days passed, Peewee continued to hang around. Literally! 
Often, we would hear something hit the window and look up to see him clinging to the screen, waiting for us to open the door. He would come bouncing inside, grab whatever food was available and after eating what he wanted, would take the rest outside to bury. 
He didn't seem to realize that graham crackers don't last very long in the dirt. 

I love all animals, bugs included, but I can't stand when larvae are feeding on someone who is still alive. I just really, really hate it. But we had to remove several bot fly larvae from Peewee. 
He seemed to know that we were helping him and acted very good. Soon he healed up. 

We watched as he built a nest in a oak tree, chased other squirrels away and went about his business. We taught him that when someone clicked their tongue, he would get a treat. 
So he always came to us when we did that.

One day, Peewee disappeared. 
We searched for him for days, but found nothing and we have no way of knowing his fate. 
He came into our lives suddenly, gave us much joy, and left without warning. 
His Majesty Whimperish will never be forgotten. 


Star was a great king. 
Along with Anna, Brownie, Stripes and several others, he was hatched in an incubator in 2009. 
As a chick, he was black with a white spot on his head that looked like a star shinning in the night. Once his feathers came in, he became a very handsome barred rooster with a few scarlet feathers evenly distributed throughout his plumage. 
I think that he is a cross between the now deceased Foghorn Leghorn, a dark brown leghorn rooster, and a Cuckoo Maran hen named Feathered Feet

After ruling the flock for a few years, Star was attacked on 7-30-14. 
I don't remember if we knew that he was roosting outside the coop that night, or if he had somehow gotten past us without being seen, but we were awoken by his screams. 
He was flapping around on the ground with a raccoon attached to his head. 
My dad reached him a few steps ahead of me and got the large raccoon off of him. 
The raccoon climbed a nearby tree and we never did catch him. 
The base of Star's comb was torn and he had a deep puncture wound in his chest. We treated him with BLU-KOTE, which is good for many different problems. 
I was worried about his comb healing because Foghorn Leghorn's comb was also torn by a predator, but was so bad that he had to be taken to a vet to get it fixed. S
tar's injuries were a lot less severe and he healed nicely, although it took several months before his comb would stand up again. 


Since then, he has sleep with his head on the ground and has scared us many times by thinking he was dead. Once winter came, Star had a hard time walking. The only thing that I could think of is arthritis. After we begin to bring him inside on cold nights, he started waling normal again. 
But he is still unable to take on the other roosters without loosing. 

While Star was recovering and separated from the flock, a younger rooster named Shelly rose to power. Star is no match for him now, and can not rejoin the flock because they would bully him. Instead of guarding the flock and keeping the other roosters in line, Star now cares for the elderly hen, his mother Feathered Feet. 
She is partly blind and fallows him everywhere. 
He watches out for predators, keeps other roosters from bothering her and finds her food. 
Once, I saw him carry a piece of corn over 15 ft, then drop it in front of her!
 I have never seen a rooster bring food to a hen any more then a step or two away, although it is clear that many roosters care deeply for their hens. 
They will call when they find something to eat, even if they themselves are hungry and even defend the flock with their lives. 
They are not afraid to take a threat many times their own size, if doing so may save their loved ones.


Eric. Eric the Opossum. Eric was found on 4-15-13 in a storm drain by my dad when he was at work. He was found with his three brothers, Trevor, Shade, and Bear. I'm sure a post will come up about them later.
We kept them inside our house for about a month, then moved them outside in a small (not too small) chicken cage that was up off the ground about two feet.
Eric loved to eat. At first we fed them a puppy milk formula in a eye dropper, then we started feeding them vegetarian dog food and veggies when they got older.

I named Eric after the 12 year-old boy Jurassic Park III.
I know it seems hard to tell baby opossums apart, but not when you color their tails with different colored Sharpies. Eric got red.
Just about every Saturday we would let them out in a hole in the side of an oak tree right beside  the cage. They would stay in for how ever long we wanted them in then we would reach our arms in and pull them out.

Eric hardly ever bit any of us, but the one thing he would do was lick. He would lick my hand until he got it good and wet and then he would rub his head in it. Before we let them go, our mom wanted to take a picture of us each holding our Opossums. The best picture we got of me and Eric (Above), which I got in a frame on my dresser, he was licking me. Though we never got a picture of him with his tongue out, I don't think.

On 8-3-13, when they were much older, we let them go in the woods behind our house, which we now own. We found a old tunnel in the ground that nothing lived in any more and put them in there. The next day we found Shade, but Eric never came back. Believe me, I cried after I let him go, because, well, I loved that little guy, even though he wasn't so little.
I remember singing to him, and him even falling asleep right next to me. I cherish every moment I had with that little guy and I hope to see him in Heaven.
Thanks for reading. Bye.

P.S. I still love you, Eric.


Royce is a velvety black moor who came to live with us on September 11, 2013. 
Two months later, he got stuck in the suction tube as I was cleaning the tank. 
By the time I could get him out, he had already lost an eye. 
It was terrible. 
Now I know to be more careful, but he was my first large-eyed goldfish and I was not aware that this could happen. Despite my lack of experience, Royce healed quickly. 

In March of 2015, he was moved to the 55 gallon tank where Quicksilver, Lars and several other fishes live. 
Named after my favorite character from The Riyria Revelations by Michael J. Sullivan, Royce is a unforgettable fish who is a joy to watch. I am sorry beyond words for hurting him and I am very thankful that he has survived.