The times when we retrograde
On tiny animal bodies and planetary bodies affecting us in subtle and not-so-subtle levels
A couple weeks ago we had a strong windstorm overnight in the Twin Cities. The next morning on my walk, I saw a tiny pink creature in the gutter. I didn’t know what it was. I stopped to use a leaf to nudge it, to see if it was a casualty of the wind storm, or maybe a child’s toy.
Oh goodness, it’s still moving! I moved the tiny creature onto the lawn for greater safety (or so I thought at first) and looked around to see where there might be a nest. And of course, Google on my phone means I saw it was newborn squirrel, eyes not even open.
I’ve been taught that if we find a baby bird fallen from its nest that it is best for humans not to touch it, that the mother will reject it if it is found. While I was fascinated with the tiny creature, I didn’t know what I could do for it without causing harm inadvertently.
I kept walking for another 5 minutes or so, but this little guy continued to nudge my consciousness. It was a cool morning for August, only about 62F. I started to worry about this baby, lying on the grass, subject to neighborhood dogs or cats, and the elements. Without the warmth of its nest with other siblings to keep him warm, he would eventually die. I needed to go back.
Google quickly revealed that squirrels are not as sensitive to this issue of human smell. Perhaps it could be safe to return it to a nest? I made my way back, and this time, mama squirrel was chittering above what I saw that appeared to be a nest.
Could she detect that this baby had fallen? Maybe she was letting me know I was a predator that should back off. Or maybe she was warning the others in the nest (about 12 feet above me in a tree close to the street).
Fortunately I was close to home, so I retrieved the top of a shoebox and a small towel and returned to the scene. This tiny baby seemed to be hanging by a thread. I could not simply walk away.
Squirrels are rodents, I realize. And yet. Something about my childhood scratched at the back of my brain, as though with the tiny little claws I found so fascinating.
We lived in an apartment through most of my growing up years, a townhome structure with two floors, two small bedrooms, and a fairly nice basement. Technically we were not allowed any pets in this apartment. Of course, my parents later broke this rule in the lease after eight years there, getting us a cat when I was about ten years old.
As younger children, my sister and I had fantasized that the squirrel that often visited the cement porch was our “pet.” We even named him Flower. I’m fairly certain we had seen the Bambi movie 37 times, and Flower the skunk probably factored in.
No, skunks are not pets. Neither are squirrels, said Mom. But my sister Wendy and I have active imaginations. Flower was ours, even if it was dangerous to have him inside.
This tiny baby pictured above needed help, and was likely dehydrated. So I followed the guidance of the mighty interwebs, and brought him in for a warm bath to help his body temperature come up, while my sleepy cats dozed.
The Wildlife Rehabilitation Center of Minnesota (WRCMN) is not far from my home, and I wondered if they might care for a baby squirrel. Just the day before, I’d been delighted to see a black squirrel on my walk at Tamarack Nature Center. I’d even stopped to play peek-a-boo with it as it hid from me around the back of a tree.
It was only 9am. The WRCMN was not open until 10am. I left them a voicemail per their online instructions and wondered how I might get this squirrel some hydration.
Without droppers at home or Pedialyte I could dilute, I found a rehydration protocol that seemed possible to try while waiting for the Center to call me back. The little guy opened his mouth when he detected the liquid and seemed to move gratefully.
But what the heck do I know?
I’m not a squirrel mama!
My chief concern was keeping him warm and comfortable while I waited for a call back to figure out what was next.
Retrogrades are typically about moving backward, and this is something most of us aren’t inclined to do. For planetary bodies, nothing is actually moving backward, of course. It is simply from the perspective of earth, from the human perspective, that something appears to move backward.
Already we can see from this example that where we are situated matters. Our point of view is very much influenced by where we are. This includes where we are in life. Where we are in space. Where we are in our spiritual development. Where we are in our mental and emotional realms.
What if I had not gone back, I wonder now. What if I hadn’t retrograded to the place where this tiny being had fallen.
For me, it wasn’t a choice. Yes, I know that squirrels are roadkill for most people. But there was something in me that felt like I was nurturing a tiny spark within myself, along with this tiny pink body.
When the WRCMN called me back, they had good news for me! Yes, they have a squirrel nursery, and I could bring him in, carefully and without turning on any radios or sound that might disturb him.
The helpful staff gently took my unnamed baby to the back for an examination while I filled out an “admit” firm. They reassured me that he seemed fine, and explained what would happen next. Other squirrels are often brought in this time a year, as tree-trimming season can be treacherous for their nests. Their facility allows them to raise them with others of similar size.
Adjacent to a beautiful woodsy area, he would eventually be released when old enough to survive on his own. I felt reassured. I made a donation to support the Center, and thanked them for helping. He will be okay!
The definition of retrograde is about moving backward. In fact it’s an optical illusion. It may be a useful one, if we allow it to be.
There’s something in the Western (or perhaps American) ethos about not moving backward. We often exist in an “ahistorical” place as a country. We erase past traumas that are not convenient for our narratives of liberty and justice for all.
We forget the people who were indigenous to these lands, and act as though this was one big uninhabited continent. Clearly it was not.
We forget that when we were young, we had experiences of the world within our families of origin that shaped us. They still shape us today.
We forget that our cultural and class background’s influence who we are able to meet, and the models we see that shape our early sense of possibilities. While this can expand and change throughout our lifetime, this early conditioning matters.
What would it be like to “re-member” ourselves? To allow ourselves to occasionally look back at the journals of the last couple of years, or major life events that have taken place, to honor what we are learning, how we have changed. Retrogrades, especially in Mercury (8/23-9/15) and Venus (7/22-9/3) are especially potent times to do this.
Is there something in me that squirrels away things? Something that buries little packages of seeds? Absolutely.
Squirrel energy is prolific and abundant. And it seems relevant that 90% of what squirrels bury will never be found by them. They store, but they also plant trees. I was delighted to realize this.
I started considering the ways in which we all plant seeds, and that only a small proportion grow. In my current work and life, I have been thinking about sources of abundance and money.
What am I squirreling away that needs time to grow, or time to mature?
What influencss me? And how can I reconcile the ways my mammal body must exist in a world that is not often friendly to its desires?
As anyone who has listened to the Somatic Wisdom podcast knows, I am a slight skeptic of astrology. But I also find it deeply fascinating to track how closely lunar phases help us live in more alignment energetically with nature.
Why wouldn’t these large planetary bodies affect our energy? They are magnetic and gravitational. Ocean tides are pulled by our moon. Women cycle with it quite often as well, except when we are on contraceptives that change the cycle.
When this tiny little squirrel body magnetized me to care for it, I had to contemplate the effects of my instinct. There is a body of brain research that explains how cuteness affects humans. I used to worry that, without human children (or the desire to have them) I didn’t get that gene.
But kittens and puppies?!?
Forget about it. Total sucker.
The WRCMN has a process by which we can call to check on the animals that have been brought in. I can’t bear to do it though. What if the little guy didn’t make it? I can’t even bear the thought, and my mind refuses to contemplate it.
For now I’m using my imagination to see him growing up, healthy and strong, planting seeds in cranky suburbanite lawns. Trickster energy is very much in line with a Gemini sun/Gemini rising ethos. It’s possible I WAS a squirrel in a previous life. Who knows?
In the meantime, I’m allowing myself to walk a little more slowly in the mornings than usual, on the alert for the tiny pink miracles.
I've been having serious squirrel synchronicities the past few days - and I hadn't made the connection with the verb! Thank you so much for bringing this to light, and I'm so glad this story has an ending that is easy to see as happy :)
What a tiny pink miracle is right!! And you were his guardian angel :) I love this story so much, and this inquiry: “Is there something in me that squirrels away things? Something that buries little packages of seeds?”
I’m with you on caring for all creatures (though I can’t yet say I include flies, mosquitos, spiders, or cockroaches). When we used humane traps in the process of solving a mouse issue, Michael used to feed them a little almond with peanut butter before setting them loose in the park :) We sooo get it! I love that you did your best to save this little guy, and even went back to do it :)