Armchair Adventures
for March 25, 2012
by Paul Sullivan
No Dull Days with These Guys Around
The squirrels in our yard have regular routes through the treetops. They can cross the entire yard without touching the ground.
In Spring, the males chase each other from tree to tree along these aerial squirrelways at dazzling speeds.
Their nano-second timing, their olympian atheleticism, make circus trapeze artists seem sluggish by comparison.
Back by my shed there is a five-foot gap in this jiggling route, at least 60 feet above the ground.
One day I watched one of these wild chases in progress and the second squirrel came to the gap, leaped…
And hit the ground so hard I heard a "thud" and thought I saw his little gray body bounce.
I was 75 feet from this madness and my one-eyed cat, Rusty, headed for the squirrel at the same time I did.
Now Rusty-may his warrior soul rest in peace-never passed up an easy meal in the yard. But I wanted to be sure the furry gray fellow lying so still was ready to be Rusty's next meal.
Turns out neither Rusty nor I had the chance to find out.
Six seconds after that critter hit the ground with a big "whump," he was sprinting toward the woods and the old hickory tree.
Six seconds more and you'd swear nothing at all had happened.
My yard is full of squirrels, big trees and birds.
When twilight fades each night and the gray squirrels retire to a well-deserved rest, their smaller cousins, the flying squirrels, came on for the night shift.
Chances are, if you have a yard full of squirrels as I do, you almost surely have a contingent of their smaller nocturnal counterparts, Glaucomys volans-the southern flying squirrel.
A man who once did flying squirrel rescue work in Fairfax told me that not only are these cute little big-eyed squirrels numerous, they probably outnumber their daytime partners, the eastern gray squirrel.
Everybody has squirrel stories. Even people like me who love and protect their birds often admit to a secret admiration for the clever antics of these feeder-emptying specialists.
Indeed, I engage in a ceaseless battle to let the birds get at least some of the food I put out for them. That's what I call a winning day in the squirrel wars.
We won't talk about the other days.
Long ago, when I had a stately American elm in the front yard, I loved to watch the daylight fade in the western sky. Each night as that 110-foot elm became a silhouette, little creatures emerged on its trunk and raced for the top of the tree.
Then, one at a time, a 10 to 20 seconds apart, they silently launched themselves into the air, swiftly gliding in all directions to other trees. Their destination-trees were usually darkened and I could neither see nor hear their whereabouts afterward.
One night was different, though, and I could make out one of these swift gliders coming obliquely toward me, then veering left to land upon the corner of the carport roof.
Flying squirrels may not be able to gain altitude in their flights, but they can control their flights with pinpoint accuracy.
I am told that the species we have hereabouts, the southern flying squirrel, has an 8:1 sink ratio, meaning that these feather-light gliders travel eight feet for each foot of height lost.
Did I mention that they love peanuts and peanut butter? But be warned: if you lure them with the latter, get the organic kind containing nothing but peanuts. That's what the expert said, and I do trust his word. Better yet, get unshelled nuts, if you don't mind cleaning up the shells.
In return for your feeding, flying squirrels will give you the best show on earth. Okay, the best show in your backyard.
But be warned if you'd make a pet of a flying squirrel. I know several people who kept squirrels in their jacket pockets.
"They have teeth like razor blades. And they can take the end off your finger before you know it," said my informant.
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