Please forgive the following digression. This column normally covers birds and ornithology, but what I’m about to share with you describes a rare visit from a nocturnal creature that becomes temporarily airborne (so there is a slight connection there). It was so unusual that I just had to write about it here.

It happened a night that I just happened to glance out the window. The porch light was on, revealing a squirrel sitting underneath the suet feeder munching on crumbs that had fallen.

At first I thought, “What on earth is a red squirrel doing out at this time of night?”. It was 9, and I had never known or seen them to be active after dark. Then, even before I noted the details of the animal, I knew it had to be a flying squirrel. A quick look at the sprite’s profile confirmed it: the big, bulbous eyes and flattened tail were dead giveaways.

I was elated; I had always wanted to see a flying squirrel. The Audubon guide to mammals states that it is actually quite common, but rarely ever seen because of its nocturnal habits. This was followed by a suggestion for spotting these little goblins: because they are cavity nesters, knocking on the boles of dead trees containing woodpecker holes should produce an inquisitive glance from one.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve pounded on dead trees while out on a hike; I never did see a flying squirrel this way. But here was one sitting on my porch in plain view, under the glare of the light!

Actually, there were at least two of them; there may have been more, but I did see two at one time dining on the extra nuts and seeds I had put out. At first, there were timid and skittish, dashing in to take a morsel and disappearing in the blink of an eye. Then I’d hear them scramble up the side of the house, and I’d run over to the window in time to see them glide halfway across the clearing to the trees. By this time, I had turned the other outside lights on so I got pretty great views of their hang-gliding skills.

Wanting to get detailed information about this intriguing creature and its method of flight, I found an excellent little book written by Nancy Wells-Gosling. Using her own firsthand accounts as well as presenting excellent references, she documents their breeding, social structure, and care of young. She also devotes most of a chapter to an explanation of their flight techniques.

A large, continuous membrane of skin, called the patagium, extends from its front legs to hind legs, making it possible for it to glide. The squirrel only needs to attain some height from which to launch itself; then it simply extends its legs, unfolding the skin, and leaps. It is even able to control the direction and speed of its trajectory. Wells-Gosling then presents some flight-distance records: most glides are between 20 and 60 feet, and the record distance was measured by zoologist A. Brooker Klugh, who watched a squirrel sail more than 300 feet down a mountainside.

You might imagine that this surplus skin, so useful for flight, would hinder the animals while traveling on terra firma. Not a bit; they traveled like quicksilver over the ground. In my estimation they are able to move faster than the more familiar red and gray squirrels.

I could go on and on, but I do have a word limit. And I still haven’t mentioned anything about birds, so here you are: the Bangor-Bucksport Audubon Christmas Bird Count will take place on Jan. 3. For information on how you can participate, and to learn when other area counts will be, please call the Fields Pond Nature Center at 989-2591. The results of the Old Town/Orono CBC will be listed in next week’s column.

Chris Corio, a volunteer at Fields Pond Audubon Center in Holden, can be reached at fieldspond@juno.com