The large mound of orange embers under the logs was proof the campfire had been a alight for some time. Dinner long over and smores demolished, we sat in chairs around the fire locked in conversation and laughter. I do not remember the exact topic of the banter, but with kids it usually jumped around. One of their favorites was to create scary stories or retell ones they could remember.
The difference this night would be seen vaguely in my peripheral vision. It was a sudden and momentary movement beyond the light cast by the fire. For just a second, it was there and gone. A few minutes later, I saw it again in a different direction. I soon began to suspect it was not my imagination. A creature that was alive and elusive toyed with me whether it knew or not. Through the laughter and boisterous talk of the kids I picked up another sound which seemed to occur immediately after each appearance. It was similar to the noise created by an open hand lightly slapped on a picnic table.
I interrupted the conversation which circled the fire and asked if anyone else had seen or heard it. When prompted to explain, I described it in more detail which resulted in a reaction not altogether unexpected. Convinced it was an attempt to get them spooked, the kids did not believe me and returned to their youthful laughter. For the next hour or so, I kept seeing it – almost – followed by that faint noise of a slap. With my flashlight, I looked and looked and aimed the beam into the nearby trees where I could have sworn I just saw it.
It continued to remain elusive and I was about to wonder if indeed I had lost my mind when the faint sound broke through in a momentary break in voices. All eyes looked at me and then peered into the darkness. Almost in unison, there was a mad scramble as flashlights were scooped up and beams of light resembled searchlights as they illuminated the woods around us.
After the search of branches and dark recesses of possible thick–leaved havens, lights slowly went off as things returned to normal. It was not seen or heard again that night. I believe it had been was scared off by the “Fourth of July” illumination of its dark world. Its night vision probably screamed in agony.
Cup of coffee in hand early the next day, I looked through a couple of my field guides in order to explain the previous night’s visitor. I knew what I had seen was not my rampant imagination and wanted to prove it as best I could.
The answer discovered was a little known or thought of creature. It did not come to mind because I had never seen one before. In fact, guess I never really saw this one either, just a glimpse of its flight.
I came to the conclusion it was a Southern or Northern flying squirrel. Though both are less than fifteen inches long, the latter is the larger of the two. They do not really fly but can glide nearly 80 feet by use of the flap of skin between the fore and hind legs. They land lightly and immediately dart around to the opposite side of the tree in case they were followed by a predator. This would explain how it avoided to be seen, no matter how many times I thought we shined the light on the correct tree.
The former is more common in the lower 48 states and its range extends from Oklahoma and Texas up to Minnesota and east across the country from Florida to New England. The Northern species is found mostly in Canada but also in the extreme northwestern states, Great Lakes area, New England, and along the Appalachian Mountains into the Smokies. Both species eat mostly nuts, acorns, seeds, berries, and some insects though they have also been known to eat smaller animals. Their call is faint and quite often mistaken for birds.
Next time darkness creeps upon you and you hear what sounds like light slaps on the trees, do not let fear get the best of you. Remember it is more than likely one of the nocturnal aviators of the wild.
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