In my continued (and perhaps questionable) quest to build a relationship with a squirrel–the one who doesn’t seem afraid of the crazy woman who insists on considering him a pet, that is–I left out some bruised apple that we otherwise would have thrown in the compost. Thus I discovered that this squirrel must be one of the babies. How did a bruised apple lead me to that conclusion? Because he didn’t eat the peel. In my world, only small ones have such an aversion.