Batcat and the Seven Squirrels by Eric Walters Page B

can’t sleep outside,” his mother said.
    “Then I guess there is only one choice. So he can come inside when I go inside…right?”
    His parents both smiled and nodded their heads in agreement.
    Nathan almost cheered out loud but realized that would scare the little guy. And the last thing he wanted to do was scare him any more than he already was.
    Just then the little squirrel let him know that he agreed with their decision as he crawled into the pocket of Nathan’s shirt.

CHAPTER THREE
    The little squirrel lapped up water from the pan.
    “He was really thirsty,” Nathan said.
    “There’s no telling how long it’s been since he had anything to drink,” his father said. “I’m just glad he’s been weaned.”
    Nathan gave him a confused look.
    “Squirrels are mammals, and all mammals nurse from their mother. Because he’s been weaned, we know he’s older, and that’s good.”
    “It is?” Nathan asked.
    “Older means he has a better chance of surviving,” his mother explained.

    Nathan hadn’t even thought that could be a problem. Now he felt worried. “Should we give him milk then?”
    “Cow’s milk is probably very different from squirrel milk. If he’s old enough to drink, water is probably the best thing.”
    “He must be hungry too. What exactly do squirrels eat?” Nathan asked. “You know, besides peanuts.”
    His mother had opened up the laptop to google squirrels.
    “It does say nuts, seeds, fruits, pinecones, fungi and green vegetables,” she said.
    “And French fries,” Nathan added.
    “No, there’s nothing here about French fries,” she said.
    “I guess he doesn’t know that,” Nathan said.
    The squirrel had grabbed a fry off Nathan’s plate and was nibbling away at it.
    “He’s as hungry as he was thirsty,” Nathan said.
    “He probably hasn’t eaten for a while, but still, let’s be good parents and give him something a little more squirrelly,” his father said.
    He had a couple of peanuts that he placed upon the table. The squirrel dropped the fry and picked up one of the peanuts.
    “Way to go, Mr. Munch,” Nathan said.
    “Mr. Munch?” his father said.
    “I thought he needed a name. It could be just Munch, or Munchie.”
    “But only his closest friends should get to call him Munchie,” his father said.
    “I think we’re his only friends,” Nathan said. Then he thought of something. “When squirrels have babies, do they just have one?”
    “I’m not sure,” his father said.
    “I’m looking it up,” his mother said.
    Once again she started googling squirrel information.
    “It says that there are generally three to five in a litter,” she said.
    “So there might be two to four more babies out there, alone, hungry and thirsty,” Nathan said.
    “There could be,” his mother agreed.
    “Unless they come to our door, I’m not sure there’s much we can do about it,” his father said.
    “There has to be something,” Nathan said.
    “Short of climbing up every tree to look for nests, I’m not sure what else we can do,” his father said.
    “We have a ladder, right?” Nathan asked.
    “Yes, we have a ladder, but…” His father stopped himself midsentence. He knew the answer he was going to give wasn’t the right answer. “I’ll get the ladder.”

    There were five big trees and several little trees surrounding the yard. While any of those big trees could hold a nest, it made sense to search the one closest to the porch first. Besides, Nathan’s mother was sure she’d seen the mother squirrel in that tree more than the others.
    Nathan’s father stood at the bottom of the ladder, holding it secure while his mother climbed up. She was much more comfortable being high up than he was. She was the one who always put up the Christmas lights and cleaned out the eaves troughs.
    She climbed higher and higher, until she almost disappeared into the canopy of leaves and branches.
    Nathan, with Munchie sitting on his shoulder, stood just off to the