Khaos

I was snug in my sleeping bag in a hanging hut in the ancient forest canopy of the rainforest of the Pacific Northwest. Just before I fell asleep, I felt a light, shivery weight on my legs. It was ticklish, the way the little feet quivered with energy, the creature so high on life, on curiosity, on the will to survive, as it travels the branches in its nightly forage for food.

Startled by quivering creature contact I shifted and sat up; the rodent scampered up the tree a ways, but just a little ways. Realizing I had been visited by a Northern Flying Squirrel, I smiled and bade it good night and again nestled down feeling safer and more comfortable in my treetop bed knowing the natives felt comfortable approaching me. Then it ran up my body and welcomed me face to furry face. I think I'm going to stay a while! Then, briefly and tentatively, the flying squirrel sat on my face.