I have flying squirrels!

Yesterday Mr. Athena and I went to the local Wild Bird Store since they’d sent us a pretty decent coupon and we needed more birdseed and suet for the woodpeckers. While browsing through the store, I found a clear plastic hook mounted on suction cups. I was thrilled! I’d almost killed Mr. Athena earlier this summer when I insisted he mount a hook for a suet box above my office window, a task that required a very shaky extension ladder perched on not-so-stable ground. When he was halfway up the ladder I decided that I’d prefer a non-crippled husband, and that put the end to my dreams of a woodpecker buffet right outside my window.

The discovery of the suction cupped hook, however, brought my dream back to life, and as of yesterday afternoon I was the proud owner of a suet box mounted right outside my second-floor window. The woodpeckers were thrilled; they were as happy as a I’d be if someone opened a cheapo burrito right in my living room. (well, maybe not RIGHT IN my living room, but woodpeckers aren’t nearly as picky about furniture and TVs as I am.)

Tonight, I’m screwing around on the Internet while Mr. Athena watches football downstairs. I hear something - a THUMP - outside my window. The first time it happens, I ignore it, thinking it’s the dogs or the neighbors or my overactive imagination. A few minutes later when it happens again I give it a little more interest. Was there some sort of addled bird trying to get at the feeders? I peer out the window, but seen nothing.

The third time it happens I start to make a plan. The THUMP comes with regularity, and it’s obviously coming from something RIGHT OUTSIDE MY WINDOW. What the hell could it be? I stare outside, blind from the light of my office. THUMP, it happens again. But wait, something is there, perched on the other side of the window sill wehre I can’t see. A few seconds later, my THUMPer succeeds in it’s quarry, and there’s a flying squirrel on my suet box.

He (or she, as it may be, I’m not adept at flying squirrel gender identification) is still there, hanging upside down chawing away at the suet. It’s tale - flat and almost an inch wide - is wrapped around the top of the box, and it hangs on with two feet. It’s huge eyes watch me as I stare at it. I can get within a few inches of the window and it isn’t scared off.

I’m so thrilled. I love these little critters. I sure hope he comes back tomorrow.

This entry was cross-posted from my livejournal.

Good Lord, please ignore all the spelling and grammar mistakes in that. I’ve had a few glasses of wine, and the excitement of the flying critter apparantly confused my fingers.

I can’t believe I misused ‘its’. I’m so embarrassed.

I’m so jealous. I only have a hedgehog in my garden. :frowning:

Be on the lookout for his Moose buddy . . . :slight_smile:

Hokey smoke!

Our little grey squirrels try to fly, but they just go thump. :smiley:

Do you have any idea how excited I’d be if I had anything as cool as a hedgehog in my garden? (Or if, say, I had a garden instead of a back yard?) Wow! You’re so spoiled.

Our squirrels also only go thump. There’s lots and lots of them, though. And a while ago I found out we had these, which although I’ve never seen another one are incredibly awesome. They’re probably living a rich and full life in my leaf litter even as we speak, under our sight lines and out of earshot.