06/06/2026
THE WHITE RICE ON MY FUR WAS NOT RICE.
IT WAS TIME RUNNING OUT.
You saw me beside the shed.
A groundhog.
Still alive.
Still breathing.
But too quiet for an animal that knows how to vanish underground.
Maybe you thought I was resting.
Maybe you thought I was old.
Maybe you thought the little white specks near my ear were seeds, dust, or dried grass.
But they were not seeds.
They were eggs.
Flies had found me.
I am a groundhog.
I was made for tunnels.
For digging.
For running low through grass.
For disappearing under porches, stones, and earth before danger gets close.
But something had already made me weak.
Heat.
A wound.
A car.
A dog.
A sickness you could not see from the window.
And when a wild body becomes too tired to groom, too tired to move away, too tired to defend the soft places, flies do not wait.
They come to the eyes.
The ears.
The mouth.
The damp fur.
The hidden wounds.
They lay what looks like tiny white grains.
And every hour matters.
Because those little white grains are not harmless.
They are the beginning of something that can turn a living body into suffering very fast.
Please do not ignore them.
Do not spray me.
Do not bathe me.
Do not pick at me for photos.
Do not let dogs or children near me.
Do not assume I only need shade.
If I am weak, still, covered in flies, or you see white or yellow eggs on my fur, I need help immediately.
Keep pets and people away.
Take a photo from a safe distance if you can.
Note the exact location.
Call a licensed wildlife rehabilitator, animal control, local wildlife rescue, or your state wildlife agency right away.
If trained help tells you to contain me, use thick gloves or a towel, place me in a ventilated box, and keep me warm, dark, dry, and quiet.
Do not give food or water unless a rehabilitator tells you to.
Because the white rice on my fur was not rice.
It was the clock starting
on a body that was still alive
and still hoping someone would notice.
