I did not have a digital camera at the time (I don't think they were even being marketed), but I ‘raised’ a family of squirrels once summer.
Almost-ex and I owned a house on a pie-slice shaped piece of property, and 3 properties backed onto ours. At the time, we had three cats. One backyard neighbour had 2 kids under 4: the almost 4 year old Brandon was hell on wheels, never supervised by his 19 year old mother and utterly fascinated with our cats. He also, for some totally unknown reason, thought I was totally great, and would escape from his yard and run over to ours whenever he saw me.
He came running over to me one afternoon, when I was out doing some weeding, and proudly announced that he had a kitty too. He was holding something tiny, black and furry. I asked if I could hold it. He said yes and handed it to me: it was a baby squirrel, eyes not even opened (under 2 weeks old).
I was tempted to freak, but stayed calm and asked him where he got his kitty. He took me into his backyard.
There had been a very big wind for most of the previous night, and tree droppings were scattered all over all the yards in the neighbourhood. Under the deck to his home, huddled in a corner, were 2 other baby squirrels. The branch their mama had built the nest on had obviously come down during the high winds.
I called Brandon’s mama (funny how I cannot remember her name), showed her the squirrels and offered to take them to my home. She agreed (there was a lot of talk about the germs, and not from me). I told Brandon that it was not a kitty but a wild thing called a squirrel and that because they it was a wild thing it needed extra special care. I told him I could take care of all of them very well, and promised Brandon that he could come and visit them any time.
This was how I became the Squirrel Lady: a sort of pied piper to the neighbourhood children (and to the kids of all of my friends).
There were 3 baby squirrels; two black, one gray.
If I remember correctly, it was a weekday mid-morning when I rescued the squirrels: 3 babies so young that their eyes were still closed and they were still totally dependent on their mother for nourishment. There was no ‘nest’ left to put the babies back into, and besides, squirrels are pragmatic beasts: if the nest and babies aren't where they left them, they just leave.
I got the largest of our cat carriers, lined it with an old bath towel, and collected the poor little things. When I got home I phoned the Humane Society to find out what to do. They said I could come in with them (although they could not take over—they are not allowed, by law, to take care of wild animals), but the vet was sweet. He looked them all over, gave me a mix for kitten formula and some little bottles I could use to nurse them. He estimated that they were about 1 week from their eyes opening, and about 3 or 4 weeks until I could start weaning them. I had to keep them warm, and for at least another 2 weeks bottle feed them every 2 hours. After the two weeks I could increase the time between feedings, and introduce Pablum. He also showed me how to use warm moistened cotton balls to stimulate their backsides and induce bowel movements (ick).
At this point almost-ex and I shared a rather large room in our house as office space. The cat carrier with the squirrels went onto a bookshelf between our desks by a window shaded by a huge Blue Spruce, resting on top of a heating pad, which I set to low, and put on a timer so it would cycle: ½ hour on, 1 hour off. I also shredded some newspaper and paper towels and placed it over the towel, so they could burrow and hide as they would in their nest.
The gray squirrel was obviously the most physically advanced, and even though his eyes were still closed, he had personality. He was immediately named Rocky (after the Rocket J. Squirrel character from Rocky and Bullwinkle). We weren't entirely sure what to name the two black ones, but that evening, while watching the new TV cartoon hit ‘Ren and Stimpy’ it came to us. One of the two was very small and quite retiring, rarely poking her head above the newspaper: she became ‘Wren’. The other black one had a very shortened tail: ‘Stumpy’ was the obvious name for him.
Rocky took to the bottle immediately. Stumpy was not as enthusiastic about it, but eventually hunger got the best of him. Wren, from the start, was a worrying little thing: it took her some time to get into the bottle, and she was awfully small and weak.
Not quite a week after I got them, Rocky’s eyes opened. Stumpy’s eyes opened about 2 days after that. Wren was still very small, and her eyes did not open until well after a week later. She spent most of her time hiding under the newspaper. Rocky would immediately go to the cage door when he heard me. Stumpy was not as forward as Rocky, but he eventually would join Rocky in the clamoring for the bottle. I had to feel through the cage lining to find Wren to give her her bottle.
Brandon and his little sister would come by the house every morning to see the squirrels. I would hold the squirrel in a towel on my lap, and let them hold the bottle.
After two weeks, I introduced a small dish of Pablum into the cage, and got one of those hamster cage water bottles. Rocky figured out the water bottle and the Pablum dish immediately. Again, Stumpy got the hang of it shortly afterwards, and Wren was still hiding, and not even trying the water or Pablum.
About this time I noticed that Wren was not just very small, she was starting to lose her fur in little clumps. Back to the Humane Society. Poor little mite had a type of mange, which could explain her slow development. The vet gave her a shot and a supplement I could add to the kitten formula for her bottles, and later to the Pablum.
She improved almost immediately, and within 2 days she was trying out the Pablum and the water bottle.
So, I now have 3 baby squirrels in a cat carrier who are starting to eat by themselves (very little, but it was a start) and getting increasingly active. I decided to take the carrier out into the yard on a warm and sunny day, to give them their bottle in the great outdoors. Brandon and his sister showed up, and three other neighbourhood kids (all under 5) also came to help feed the squirrels.
Trips of the carrier and contents to the backyard now happened every day, weather permitting. It was left outside as long as almost-ex or I were in the yard. I started leaving the cage door open. Rocky was first out to explore, with Stumpy close behind. Although it was shorts weather, I had to go back to wearing jeans, for the minute anything would startle Rocky, he would run up my legs. Stumpy would head for the cage, which he did not stray far from for the first few days outdoors, but within a couple of days I also became his escape route. Wren’s explorations had not begun yet … she was still very small and weak.
This photo is of me feeding Wren, and the child of a friend (Elizabeth … now doing a PhD in Engineering, if I remember correctly … God I feel old) feeding Stumpy. The son of another neighbour is sitting behind Elizabeth giving Rocky his bottle. At the side of our house we had a large pile of cedar rails left over from building a fence. Rocky soon graduated from running up my legs to exploring the cedar rail pile. By this point he was off the bottle, and he had started eating ‘real food’. 
Within about a week and a half Rocky would not get back into the cage: he had moved into the pile of cedar rails. Stumpy joined him a few days later. Wren was still loathe to leave the cage, and was still on the bottle and Pablum with supplements.
We stuffed various crevices in the rail pile with various solid food (peanuts, sunflower seeds, etc.), but gave them Pablum first thing every morning, until they no longer came for it. Rocky was an incredibly messy Pablum eater (if I hadn't kept the bowls small, I swear he would have sat in it).
Our cats (we had three at the time) seemed barely interested in the squirrels. But the squirrels were cautious of them.
(Rocky in the wood pile with our tortoiseshell Sophie trying to feign disinterest.)
Within another couple of weeks Wren moved into the wood pile. A few days later Rocky vanished. Then Stumpy left. A couple of weeks after that Wren also left.
They did come back every now and then for a while, and did ‘answer’ to their names (particularly Rocky), but they were busy living squirrel lives, and people did not figure much in their world any longer. We could certainly spook them as easily as we could the ones we hadn't raised. But the goal had been to raise wild squirrels, not pets. So we were satisfied. And the memories of all of it are good.
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