Shortly after nightfall the show begins. If I am lucky, I will catch a glimpse of a small, sailing rectangle, reflecting the dim outdoor light as it glides directly onto the trunk of the large poplar. I leave the light on especially for the show. The rectangle is seemingly absorbed into the tree and disappears as quickly as it touches down.

However, if you’re watching closely, you will see the rectangle transform into a tiny, slim creature whose front legs are already headed around the tree before the hind ones have landed. Flying squirrels have learned that humans aren’t the only creatures that make note of a small nocturnal kite gliding through the forest. Owls are always on the lookout. The squirrel immediately scurries around the tree upon landing. The idea is to find dinner, not become one.

Dinner is readily available at my house. At dusk, I replenish the blackoil sunflower seeds that this nocturnal sojourner’s diurnal cousin and competing feathered friends have depleted during the day.
I don’t know how many flying squirrels may partake of this buffet or how long individuals might stay at one sitting. I have seen them arrive at dusk and I have seen them depart in the wee pre-dawn hours. I have watched as one or two continually bounce back and forth between the feeder and the tree and I have seen as many as eight at one time.

Sometimes my wife and I will go out and sit on the railing next to the feeder. When we first go out all the critters disappear under the cover of the Virginia creeper, but after a couple of minutes they begin to reappear, cautious at first, but soon they forget about us and settle in to their raucous feeding routine.

In full glide, with patagium (gliding membrane) stretched wide and tail flattened, flying squirrels can appear to be fairly large. But, in truth, they are only about nine inches long, including tail, and weigh only two to four ounces. They have large ink-black eyes and soft, silky, grayish-brown fur. Their undersides are creamy white.

The southern flying squirrel, Glaucomys volans, ranges throughout deciduous forests from southern Ontario, south to Mexico and Honduras. Its northern cousin, Glaucomys sabrinus, is found in coniferous forests from Canada to Maine, to northern California and down the Appalachians to North Carolina and perhaps Georgia.

Where the ranges of these two squirrels overlap, the southern dominates. In North Carolina the northern flying squirrel is an endangered species usually found only in high elevation spruce-fir forests.

The gliding ratio for flying squirrels is about three horizontal feet for every vertical foot. They could glide the length of a football field from a perch of 100 feet. Most glides are less than 50 yards. Flying squirrels are able to maneuver deftly once “on the fur.” They primarily use their tail, like a rudder, to steer, but they can also vary the tension of the patagium to help with direction and to control speed.

The life span, in the wild, is approximately five years. Flying squirrels in captivity have been known to live up to 13 years. There are many limiting factors in the wild: predators such as owls, domestic cats, foxes, weasels, bobcats, hawks and snakes, and external parasites like fleas, lice and mites and internal parasites such as nematodes (parasitic worms) and protozoans (single celled organisms.)

Of course, like most wildlife, loss of habitat is the primary limiting factor. Southern flying squirrels depend on mature mast bearing trees like oak and hickories for food and den trees for shelter.

There are generally two periods of breeding activity, annually, for southern flying squirrels. One is February and March and the second is May to July. Females generally have one litter of three to four per year, but sometimes produce two litters.

I remember, as a kid, at our camp in Louisiana, hand-feeding the flying squirrels stale bread and other leftovers. It probably wasn’t the most nutritious diet, but they didn’t seem to mind.

I haven’t attempted to hand-feed any at my feeder, although I imagine all it would take is a little patience. Right now, I’m content just to watch the “Flying Squirrelendas” perform.

 

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The Smoky Mountain News