The day was shaping up badly from the moment the alarm sounded. Too tired to function, I turned it off and fell back to sleep. The night before I’d worked close to midnight on taxes and the long hours had taken their toll. I finally got up around 11:00 and it wasn’t until 1:00 pm before I headed out the door for work. All the ducks were lining up for what would happen next.
Midway to the shop, directly across from the sewer pumping station, I noticed a small dead creature in the middle of my side of the road. As I fast approached the still form, I noticed the animal must have been a recent hit because its little body was still roundish and plump, not the normal flattened pancake. It was lying between the wheels of my car and I drove over him, already thinking I should go back and remove the carcass off the road. I really didn't want to see what tires would do to the little guy on my way home from work later that day. I turned the car around at the Government wharf. Over the years I’ve pulled my share of dead animals off of highways, prompted by a childhood memory of my younger brother seeing his first road kill and immediately throwing-up in the car. It's traumatic for children to see a mangled body and that thought is always on my mind as I shovel the remains to the side of the road.
Midway to the shop, directly across from the sewer pumping station, I noticed a small dead creature in the middle of my side of the road. As I fast approached the still form, I noticed the animal must have been a recent hit because its little body was still roundish and plump, not the normal flattened pancake. It was lying between the wheels of my car and I drove over him, already thinking I should go back and remove the carcass off the road. I really didn't want to see what tires would do to the little guy on my way home from work later that day. I turned the car around at the Government wharf. Over the years I’ve pulled my share of dead animals off of highways, prompted by a childhood memory of my younger brother seeing his first road kill and immediately throwing-up in the car. It's traumatic for children to see a mangled body and that thought is always on my mind as I shovel the remains to the side of the road.
Hubby and the Rubbermaid container used for safe transport. There was a surprising lack of traffic on the normally well traveled stretch of road and I didn't pass a single car on my way back to the body. I parked and walked over to the little brown guy that was slightly bigger than a squirrel but smaller than a ferret. There was a single dot of blood on the pavement and a tear shaped droplet of red on its head. His eyes were closed. I couldn’t see any signs of life and really, what chance would this tiny guy have against the crushing force of a monster sized vehicle going fifty clicks?
I picked it up by the tail and walked it to the side of the road. I wasn’t sure if I imagined movement or if it was because I’d picked it up and the muscles were settling from gravity, but I thought I felt a twitch. I laid the tiny body gently on some rocks on the side of the road and then noticed its paws were moving ever so slightly. It was alive! So I thought maybe it would be better to lay him on the grass, a softer bed and someplace in the sun away from the cool breezes off the harbour. I glanced around for a more protected area with tall grasses. That’s when the maternal instincts kicked in and I knew he was probably in shock and needed to be kept warmer than Mother Nature could provide. I knew that he probably wouldn’t survive but that didn’t mean I should abandon him in his hour or possibly minutes, of need. It now became my duty to make his transition from life to death as comfortable as possible.
I wasn’t thinking about personal injury as I scooped him up with my bare hands, cradling his potentially broken body as carefully as possible. Guilt had already set in for lifting him by the tail when I thought he was gone! I placed him in the back seat on one of my dog’s beds and drove home to seek hubby’s advice.
I picked it up by the tail and walked it to the side of the road. I wasn’t sure if I imagined movement or if it was because I’d picked it up and the muscles were settling from gravity, but I thought I felt a twitch. I laid the tiny body gently on some rocks on the side of the road and then noticed its paws were moving ever so slightly. It was alive! So I thought maybe it would be better to lay him on the grass, a softer bed and someplace in the sun away from the cool breezes off the harbour. I glanced around for a more protected area with tall grasses. That’s when the maternal instincts kicked in and I knew he was probably in shock and needed to be kept warmer than Mother Nature could provide. I knew that he probably wouldn’t survive but that didn’t mean I should abandon him in his hour or possibly minutes, of need. It now became my duty to make his transition from life to death as comfortable as possible.
I wasn’t thinking about personal injury as I scooped him up with my bare hands, cradling his potentially broken body as carefully as possible. Guilt had already set in for lifting him by the tail when I thought he was gone! I placed him in the back seat on one of my dog’s beds and drove home to seek hubby’s advice.
The gateway to wild animal salvation. We both thought he looked the worse for wear. Still on the fleece bed we laid him under the lilac bush in a sunny area. He looked so tiny and vulnerable my heart bled for the little guy. Already invested emotionally I watched his breathing. Surprisingly it wasn’t laboured, just a steady rise and fall of his chest wall. He hadn’t lost control of his bladder or bowels and I took that as a good sign. We covered him with one of our polar fleece dog blankets to keep any body heat in. Hubby thought the little guy was a mink, and told me I was very lucky that it hadn’t attacked me. Minks are known to be quite vicious and I could have been severely bitten or scratched if he'd only been playing possum. I might be a romantic fool, but I like to think that he knew I was trying to help him, but more than likely, he was unconscious.
So I went to work but called home frequently to see how our little ward was doing, hoping against hope he would miraculously heal and sneak away. Hubby said he pulled the blanket back to check and the little guy scurried to be deep under the covers. I took that as a positive sign built on wishful thinking. That’s when I knew I had to save this little guy. Now on a mission; albeit a potentially impossible one, I had to do something proactive. I couldn't just let nature take its course, especially when there is nothing natural about a car hitting an animal. I phoned Chester Basin Animal Hospital and they told me about the Hope for Wildlife Society and gave me a number to call. They are located in Dartmouth, 91 kms away, so hubby and I discussed what to do. One option was to wait and see how fate would swing but that was dismissed quickly. We would intervene to determine the outcome, good or bad. If there was any hope for this little guy, it was our responsibility to seek it out for him. So I phoned and we were told where to drop him off so we put the bed in a large Rubbermaid container and covered him with a warm blanket and headed to the city. We peeked before placing him in the container to find that he had moved and was now curled up; we took this to be another positive sign.
We drove the distance with high spirits, as long as there was life there was a possibility of hope. We checked once to make sure we weren’t transporting a lost cause and he was still breathing and had come out from under the covers and was lying on top of the blanket. The top was cracked for air flow but the slit was too small for him to escape.
So I went to work but called home frequently to see how our little ward was doing, hoping against hope he would miraculously heal and sneak away. Hubby said he pulled the blanket back to check and the little guy scurried to be deep under the covers. I took that as a positive sign built on wishful thinking. That’s when I knew I had to save this little guy. Now on a mission; albeit a potentially impossible one, I had to do something proactive. I couldn't just let nature take its course, especially when there is nothing natural about a car hitting an animal. I phoned Chester Basin Animal Hospital and they told me about the Hope for Wildlife Society and gave me a number to call. They are located in Dartmouth, 91 kms away, so hubby and I discussed what to do. One option was to wait and see how fate would swing but that was dismissed quickly. We would intervene to determine the outcome, good or bad. If there was any hope for this little guy, it was our responsibility to seek it out for him. So I phoned and we were told where to drop him off so we put the bed in a large Rubbermaid container and covered him with a warm blanket and headed to the city. We peeked before placing him in the container to find that he had moved and was now curled up; we took this to be another positive sign.
We drove the distance with high spirits, as long as there was life there was a possibility of hope. We checked once to make sure we weren’t transporting a lost cause and he was still breathing and had come out from under the covers and was lying on top of the blanket. The top was cracked for air flow but the slit was too small for him to escape.
Tiffany who greeted us at the door. The people at the rescue center were lovely. He was taken away to be examined and I asked if it would be possible to snap a few pictures so I could write a story to bring awareness to their worthy cause. When Dr. Barry removed him from the container we were told the little guy was pretty banged up but another one they’d treated was in worse shape and had made it. They planned to X-ray him to see the extent of the injuries. The Doctor seemed to think the little guy showed some alertness but might have lost an eye and then informed us our little mink was a really a weasel. He also told us they are white during winter and turn brown in the spring. I snapped a few pictures and then we left so the professionals could do their work; our little guy was now in the best of hands. Animals tug at the heart strings so quickly and tears brimmed my eyes as we got in the car. At this moment I am not sure if the little guy was treated and is on the mend, or if he was beyond repair and humanely euthanized, but I will remain hopeful until I'm told otherwise. We may not get any updates on his condition for a few weeks but in the meantime his little life, or sadly his death, can have meaning by bringing awareness to this awesome society that is rescuing wildlife in need.
Having never rescued an animal before, I didn’t know the society existed so I appreciated the education and knew immediately that I wanted to spread awareness. Apparently over 1500 injured and orphaned wild animals will be given a second chance this year. Injured, freezing and starving can become a story of strong, healthy and ready for release back into the wild. While every animal at the Hope for Wildlife Society has sad beginnings they receive compassion from volunteers who care enough to help. A worthy cause that needs donations to run. Please join me in supporting Nova Scotia’s Wildlife, either by a “Like” on their Facebook page that can be accessed from the website link below, or by making a donation. www.hopeforwildlife.org
Having never rescued an animal before, I didn’t know the society existed so I appreciated the education and knew immediately that I wanted to spread awareness. Apparently over 1500 injured and orphaned wild animals will be given a second chance this year. Injured, freezing and starving can become a story of strong, healthy and ready for release back into the wild. While every animal at the Hope for Wildlife Society has sad beginnings they receive compassion from volunteers who care enough to help. A worthy cause that needs donations to run. Please join me in supporting Nova Scotia’s Wildlife, either by a “Like” on their Facebook page that can be accessed from the website link below, or by making a donation. www.hopeforwildlife.org
Dr. Barry having an initial look at the weasel.
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