I was in the backyard when I heard a rustling in the mulch under the bush.
I thought that it was probably a field mouse, and I bent to look but saw nothing.
In a moment I heard it again, and then I saw the squirrel.
It was badly damaged, both rear legs flailed out, useless, flies hovering around some wound.
I figured it had broken its back.
I thought of calling the animal rescue league to put it out of its misery.
The squirrel had other thoughts.
I watched it drag itself in fits and starts about fifteen feet to the chestnut oak.
The squirrel jumped and grasped the tree with his two front legs.
Then he proceeded to pull himself up the tree, a few inches at a time.
I lost sight of the squirrel about 70 feet up.
I guess he is dead by now.

The Squirrel