I named it Skipper. My circus vole. I have named it Skipper. The little thing is doing wonderful. It's created a tissue stuffed home out of a hollow peice of driftwood I put in the large washbowl I am keeping it in. The water is quickly vanashing from the small clay container in the corner. And I have fed a majority of my supply of alder seeds and pilot bread crackers to the hungry fluff ball. It's leg was broken, bent, and dragging limply behind it's body. But with much rest and no stress, the healing process seems to be taking place. The tiny fragil bones are sure to mend up quickly. I have truly fallen in love with the little thing. It's scurry little movements and sweet black eyes put a smile on my face. At the moment it's still quite young, I'm guessing no more than four or five weeks in age. With it's youth I hope it will tame to me, for I so dearly have gained a fondness of it.
