At my last house, nearly the entire front yard was covered by an ancient Live Oak tree. I'd planted several hundred narcissus under the tree, and had a large collection of dwarf narcissus in pots around the edge of the path. The phloxing squirrels had dug up several one day and I was spitting mad shaking my fist at their nest up in the tree. As I was doing that, 3 babies fell right at my feet. Well, as mad as I was... they were *babies*.. I put them on a towel in a box and called Wildlife Rescue.. They told me they were full up with baby squirrels and I could either take them to a vet and have them euthanized, or raise them myself. As much of a pain in the ass as they were, I couldn't kill them... So, I had a room mate at the time, and she agreed to help me raise them. I had a black one and a grey one, and they were actually kind of fun.. When they got old enough, I took them to a squirrel half-way house, which was a large aviary outside in (thankfully) another neighborhood in town. All I could think of was that I was glad I didn't live next to a crazy squirrel lady who was releasing them into the wild from her back yard.. Other than that one interlude with the squirrel babies, I still hate them
