Two fresh sets of flying squirrel tracks in this morning's snow. They must have glided down from my roof because they start out of nowhere. I've seen them do this same maneuver before: glide from the roof down to the bottom of the oak, scurry up to the upper branches of the oak, and then glide far out over the garden. Surprisingly quick, too.
"I take pleasure in noting the minute things about me...One seldom takes a walk without encountering some of this fine print on nature's page." - John Burroughs