My first glimpse of the elusive creature was early last fall.

As I was heading out to close up the chicken coop for the night, I saw a white flash scurrying through the newly fallen leaves. I focused on the animal as it scampered up a big pine tree and against the gray bark, I observed a fluffy white tail and the glint of a pink eye in the setting rays of the sun.

I was so astonished I exclaimed out loud, “An albino squirrel!”

My voice seemed to irk the critter and it went further up the tree then stopped on a thick branch, peering down at me, its tail a flicking S. It started in on a series of staccato chirps in what I interpreted as squirrel lingo for, “Stop looking at me slack-jawed and get lost.”

We observed each other for a good few minutes before the animal realized I was too stunned to move and posed no threat. Then it continued its climb up the tree and disappeared among the billowy needles.

A 1 in a 100,000 Rarity

I felt a sense of complete awe at spotting this critter and indeed when I did some research on the prevalence of albino squirrels I learned that sighting one purportedly brings good luck. Research also reveals these animals are a 1 in 100,000 rarity in the squirrel kingdom. I won’t go into the complicated genetic artistry that has to occur for an albino squirrel to be born, but they do have some deficiencies that make their long term survival in the wild precarious.

This squirrel’s white coat alone created a glaring predator target against the leaves on the ground. I felt my pure luck in sighting this critter was a once in a life time occurrence because of this. One time I observed a fox take out a gray squirrel in my front yard and while its demise was swift, it was also brutal. I hoped against hope that would not be this squirrel’s fate, still, I figured my chances of ever spotting it again were slim.

But I was wrong. About two weeks later I looked out my window one morning to see the animal peering in at me from a bush. Once again my heart leaped into my throat and I exclaimed out loud, “The albino squirrel!”

The creature had me many days staring into the trees, but as fall turned into winter and the days grew colder and the snow deepened, the sightings became more frequent and each time I saw this magical creature my delight and joy grew. 

A Short Lived Name

I normally don’t name wildlife that comes through my homestead unless some physical feature makes them stand out. For instance one summer I had a frequent gray squirrel with no tail….Stumpy.  For a few months one spring I had a big doe come in with half an ear missing…Half-Eared Edith. So as the albino squirrel sightings amped up I simply dubbed the animal, ‘Whitey.’

However, that was short lived.

One day my grandson was visiting and as Whitey came into view I let out my usual whoop, “There’s Whitey the albino squirrel!” As we watched the creature hop through the yard a soft snow started falling, the kind that clumps together and comes down in gossamer softness. The boy turned to me.

“Whitey is a dumb name for that squirrel.”

“Why?”

“It’s boring,” he said with the logic of a six-year-old. “He needs a better name than Whitey.”

“Ok, you name him.”

As the snow languidly fell it alighted on the animal’s back giving him a fluffy, animated appearance.

“He looks like a Snowball to me. Let’s name him Snowball.”

And that’s how Whitey officially became Snowball.

A Daily Visitor

By the middle of winter I saw Snowball almost every other day. I decided to purchase him a special bird feeder and nailed it on a porch railing in direct line of my favorite recliner position. After this installment Snowball became a daily visitor along with, I swear, every other squirrel within a 20 mile radius.

As I was now able to observe him consistently at close range, I came to noticed how physically scrawny he was. His genetic deficiencies were evident. He had a peculiar patchy coat, a deformed ear and his hind feet were extraordinarily long, with pink skin showing through over spindly toes. He moved differently too. It became routine for him to come crawling along the porch railing about 10 a.m. bringing to mind a timid hopping rabbit rather than the hyper and frenetic behavior of his grey cousins.

A Savage World

Because of his puniness I thought for sure he would become a bully target against fluffier competitors but again he surprised me. From first hand and up close observations I can attest, the squirrel world is a savage one and there were many fur-flying skirmishes over the right to occupy a seat at the feeder. And Snowball was in the middle of them all. But consistently he came out victorious and claimed the north end of the station his own personal spot.

Eventually, simply his appearance scattered the ranks which admittedly gave me an odd sense of parental pride. Looking out and seeing him at his hard fought throne, stuffing his face with seeds, always made me smile and brought a welcome and wondrous enchantment to the long winter months.

As the snow slowly melted and the days grew warmer Snowball continued to visit every day but his time at the feeder shortened. I assumed he was now out in the woods doing squirrel stuff and I was just happy he seemed to be sticking close. One day as I was raking at the back of my house I happened to glance up and see a ball of leaves in the thin swaying branches of a birch tree. Suddenly a white head popped up and I let out a laugh and wondered. If just glimpsing a white squirrel supposedly brings good luck, what kind of luck is possible when an albino squirrel decides to make its home right over yours?

But I was soon to learn, Snowball’s luck had run short.

One early summer day, just after turning out of my driveway, I saw a white form in the road. I quickly pulled over and ran to it and sure enough it was Snowball. I gently scooped up the little creature and held it to me, caressing the tiny head under my thumb. Unbidden tears sprang to my eyes and as I gently placed the limp form on the passenger seat, I sobbed. How could this have happened? Of all the obstacles this critter had endured, of all the possibilities of his demise in the natural world, he was taken out by a vehicle. I was heart broken.

An Educational Lesson

Last year I became a substitute teacher and one of my assignments was subbing a class of fourth graders at the elementary school in Harshaw. At one point during the day I asked the kids if they wanted to see an albino squirrel. Of course they did and were entranced with the many photos I had taken of Snowball and I told them all I had learned about these animals. During this impromptu lesson I asked them, “Do any of you get the question ‘what did you learn in school today?’” They all nodded so I’m pretty sure that night a group of parents learned all about albino squirrels and the fun fact that they have a 1 out of 100,000 shot of being born. 

One of these students was particularly interested in Snowball and he told me his dad was a taxidermist. At that point Snowball was alive and well but as I inspected his limp body the day I found him on the road, that conversation came back to me. 

But I wondered? Would having this creature mounted be an appropriate way to honor it? Or should I contend with simply burying his magnificence forever? In the end I decided to preserve him and Snowball’s body was delivered into the hands of a local Harshaw taxidermist.

So now I wait patiently to see him once again as these projects take time, but I know in my heart it won’t be quite the same as those days when I watched him scamper through the trees or sitting at the feeder on my deck. Whenever I see a mounted animal, no matter what species, I always wonder about its history and the stories behind their fixed stares.

And that will be the same with this creature because to me, this rare and beautiful animal has a story worth preserving, worth telling over and over.

The tale of Snowball the albino squirrel.