Column: Flying squirrel bias greeted with aerial assault

When the slow rumble of a delivery truck, followed by the familiar slide of the cargo door, awakened me from an afternoon nap, I knew my week was about to be made. My squirrel had arrived!

It might seem odd, even unthinkable, that I should get so fired up about acquiring a life-sized, molded plastic replica of a genuine flying squirrel, given my well-documented hate-hate relationship with local members of the greater squirrel family.

A quick search of my files reveals that in just the last few years, I’ve documented various run-ins with the bushy-tailed vermin no fewer than half a dozen times on these pages. Most recently, commandos from the gray and black squirrel tribe had disabled two of my three work vehicles within days of each other by chewing their way through the ignition system of each. That was only months after a coven of fox squirrels had rendered my home’s chimney inoperable by plugging it with their own winter living quarters.

My model squirrel was different, however. This was a flying squirrel, Ohio’s most numerous species and far and away the most seldom seen on account of its nocturnal lifestyle. Tasked with teaching a group of preschoolers a little bit about wildlife by walking and talking them through the autumn woods, it would be impossible not to encounter a squirrel or two. And when the inevitable questions arose regarding our “furry little neighbors,” I feared my seething anti-squirrel bias might be revealed to the impressionable youngsters.

I had chosen instead to take the high road and talk about the amazing attributes of the flying squirrel, the greatest of which is the “wing suit” flap of skin between its front and hind legs, which enables its glide. My wide-eyed little night-glider had arrived from Amazon (the online merchant, not the rain forest) just in time to show the kids, rather than attempt to merely just tell them about the creature.

The day of our walk in the woods dawned bright and sunny, and soon dozens of kids and their parents and teachers were happily clomping through the woods with my colleagues and me to learn about all manner of wild things. The fox squirrels shadowed our course, and black squirrels lurked in the canopy throughout.

Finally, we arrived at a small picnic area under a large hickory tree where the kids gathered closely and I revealed what I referred to as “the best squirrel in the woods because it’s rarely seen and seldom heard.”

Within seconds of this statement, the “shelling” began. At first, it was simply a husk or two that rained down from the canopy above, creating a comical scene as one parent remarked, “Looks like the other squirrels are taking issue with your claim.”

There were chuckles and outright laughs when a shell bounced off the bill of my hat, but the scene turned quickly dark as our aerial assailants chucked entire hickory nuts down upon the group. Children were grazed, parents were pelted as from the canopy above and a scolding chatter finally forced us to flee for our own safety!

The children are left to form their own opinions about squirrels from this little encounter. And I’ll just say that if even one of them grows up to one day enjoy a meal of “squirrel gravy over rice,” my lesson will have been well worth the effort.

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.