There’s getting kicked out of your home, and then there’s what happened this week to a profoundly small, profoundly unlucky resident of Alameda, California. As UPI documents, passersby on Fairview Avenue discovered what can best be described as the squirrel equivalent of a newborn evictee—literally, a neonate squirrel, all fluff and panic—after it made an unscheduled and rapid descent from a nest high above.
Treetop Real Estate: Not For the Tiniest Among Us
Alameda Police responded to a report of an “abandoned baby squirrel,” a detail echoed in both UPI and KRON4 coverage. In a scene that likely plays out more often than we realize, Animal Control Officer Onesko located the squirrel—the very definition of small and helpless—on the ground beneath its former treetop residence. The department suspects wind, gravity, or perhaps a misjudged leap brought the neonate, whose nest sat high in a nearby tree, earthward in a hurry.
Both outlets note that the vulnerable young squirrel was quickly moved into the care of Yggdrasil Urban Wildlife Rescue, where it will be nursed and cared for until it’s old enough to be re-released back into Alameda. According to a social media post referenced in the reporting, YUWR staff are now handling everything from tiny feedings to, presumably, some careful pep talks about future branch navigation.
The Casual Absurdity of Rodent Rescue
It’s an oddly endearing image—a city’s official machinery leaping into action for a palm-sized rodent. Yet, the context offered by UPI’s “Odd News” section points out that these micro-dramas are far from unique. Paddleboarding dogs are snagging world records in Dorset, firefighters in North Carolina recently freed a bobcat wedged in a car grill, and somewhere a wayward sea lion wandered a California roadway. In earlier reporting, it’s mentioned that animal control agencies seem well accustomed to sudden calls about tiny creatures needing help, suggesting that any American address might, at a moment’s notice, become the site of unexpected animal resettlement.
There’s a gentle, almost comic rhythm to these interventions. Most will never make the front page but, grouped together, they hint at the perpetual chaos and kindness ticking along just under the surface of city life.
Recovered, Reminded, Rewilded?
Presuming all goes smoothly under YUWR’s care, the squirrel will eventually graduate from its stint in rehab to rejoin Alameda’s treetop community—hopefully with a firmer grip and a better sense of altitude. Both UPI and KRON4 highlight a quietly satisfying arc to the story: found, rescued, fostered, and returned. It’s not hard to imagine this entire episode as a Pixar short—so long as we gloss over the unfortunate plummet.
These fleeting vignettes might prompt bigger questions—How many such quiet animal rescues happen beneath our noses each week? What odd things have become so routine for animal control that a literal falling squirrel barely elicits surprise? Still, it’s the casual absurdity, and the odd tenderness of these moments, that seem to linger.
Are squirrels anywhere else as susceptible to early eviction, or is Alameda experiencing a uniquely furry housing crisis? It’s something to ponder the next time the branches overhead rustle just a little too vigorously.
