• With our love for animals, cooking, and the traditional lifestyle, we have founded Rusted Ruffle as a vessel for our unfolding dream of a truly holistic farm.

Our Friend Flyer

It all started on December 26. It was a normal day after Christmas kind of day, other than the fact that our household had developed a flu over night. We spent the day all huddled on the couch watching movies and drinking ginger ale. It was around 7:00 p.m. when I dragged myself up to the washroom to blow my nose for the hundredth time. I glanced at the garbage and seeing that it was already full¬† I decided to be totally lazy and throw my kleenex in the toilet. I lifted the lid and had the fright of my life. There staring at me were these huge beady black eyes. I may have screamed and slammed the lid. I don’t remember.

I do remember going to the other room and calling upon Raceboy82 for his assistance. Whatever it was must have swam up the pipes and into the toilet. It must be dangerous and some strange creature! After all it was freezing outside! How could it have survived!?!

He took a little peek under the lid and declared we had a flying squirrel in our toilet. We figured out a way to get it out of the toilet and into a cage. We left it overnight and in the morning when we came to check it we found the most adorable and frightened little squirrel. How he got into our toilet we do not know but he has stolen our hearts. After some research, we came to the conclusion that he was a baby who was not prepared for our cold winters and came looking for food and heat. We did not have the heart to kick him back outdoors. We did some shuffling of birds and cages and he now has a winter home with us.

Dolly named him Flyer. He loves apples and bread. His favorite thing though is when you scratch him under the chin. Sometimes we let him out to play in my room. He stretches those “wings” as he flies from the top of the windows to the tops of the furniture. He scurries along the floor and quickly climbs whatever object he comes across. He always ends his free time in the little nest on my art desk.¬† He reminds me of a character out of a children’s book as he sits and cleans his paws. I ponder about how the title of the famous story Where the Wild Things Are would fit this caption and my heart whispers “right here”. Yes, I agree. Right here and I certainly wouldn’t have it any other way.


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