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I consider wildlife sightings a matter of chance. They arrive uninvited, unattended and undefined. They simply happen.
Among the many species I have longed to see, flying squirrels held a special fascination. I had dreamed of spotting one someday — anytime, anywhere, anyhow. Yet, I never ventured into its habitat in search of it, though forests remain a constant presence in my life. A few like-minded friends would occasionally share midnight photographs of flying squirrels on social media — images I could only admire from afar. I never joined the quiet race to find one.
It was without doubt, a surprise — one I had never imagined, not even in my wildest dreams. And yet it had to happen and it did.
One brisk Sunday in July last year, I stepped out to tend my flowerpots in the garden, loosening hardened soil with a spade. The morning was still. As I worked, a faint, feeble sound reached my ears.
Clinging to the windowpane just outside the house was a rare, enigmatic animal. It was not gliding through the canopy as one might expect, nor perched high upon a tree trunk, but resting at my arm’s length.
I grabbed my camera in a flurry, and in that moment, I felt as if I was gliding instead of the squirrel. I clicked almost breathlessly, capturing every fleeting pose. We lingered together briefly, the squirrel clinging here and there, its large nocturnal eyes alert yet composed — before finally slipping away towards the nearby trees and disappearing in silence.
As my friend often says, wildlife comes to meet me. That morning, I truly believed it. I silently thanked the heavens for granting me such a rare, extraordinary encounter right at my doorstep. I could not have asked for more. That was it — the White-bellied Giant Flying Squirrel.
The White-bellied Giant Flying Squirrel (Petaurista albiventer) remains one of the Kashmir Valley’s most elusive nocturnal mammals. Arboreal by nature, it spends most of its life high in the canopy of mature forests, nesting in tree hollows and venturing out under the cover of darkness. With large, expressive eyes adapted for night vision and a patagium — a delicate membrane stretched between its limbs — it glides effortlessly from tree to tree, sometimes covering remarkable distances in a single leap. What appears magical to us is, for the squirrel, a precise calculation of survival.
Beyond parts of South and Central Asia, the species inhabits temperate forests of the north-western Himalaya, including Jammu & Kashmir, where mature trees such as deodar, pine, fir, spruce, walnut and horse chestnut provide nesting cavities and seasonal food. Yet its populations are scattered and closely tied to intact, old-growth forests. An adaptable forager, it feeds on leaves, flowers, fruits, seeds, nuts and occasionally insects. Its gliding ability enables it to traverse forest gaps without descending to the ground, reducing vulnerability to predators while quietly dispersing seeds across woodland landscapes.
The global conservation status of White-bellied Giant Flying Squirrel has not yet been evaluated under the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species. In India, the species is listed under Schedule I of the Wildlife (Protection) Amendment Act, 2022, affording them the highest level of legal protection.
Being nocturnal and canopy-dependent, the White-bellied Giant Flying Squirrel — along with the Small Kashmir Flying Squirrel and the Woolly Flying Squirrel — remains under-recorded in conventional wildlife surveys, which are often conducted during daylight hours. In Kashmir, sightings are uncommon and typically associated with forest-fringe villages, particularly when walnuts and horse chestnuts ripen. Drawn by seasonal abundance, the squirrel may occasionally venture closer to human habitation. Even then, its presence is subtle — a fleeting glide between trees, a soft rustle overhead, or a faint nocturnal call puncturing the silence.
Habitat loss, fragmentation of old-growth temperate forests, and increasing human disturbance continue to challenge arboreal mammals such as flying squirrels. Their reliance on mature trees with natural cavities for nesting makes them especially sensitive to logging, infrastructure expansion, and the gradual thinning of forest corridors. Even the selective removal of older trees can silently erase generations of nesting sites. Though rarely seen, their ecological role is significant — as seed dispersers, they quietly contribute to forest regeneration and long-term ecosystem stability.
What made the encounter even more remarkable was its timing. The flying squirrel, being strictly nocturnal, typically emerges after dusk to forage and glide through the canopy. A daylight appearance is rare and may signal disturbance, seasonal shifts in food, or other subtle changes in its habitat. Such moments offer a glimpse into a species we usually know only through the night.
That Sunday morning encounter reminded me of a simple truth — nature does not always require pursuit. Sometimes, patience is rewarded in the most unexpected ways. The forests I walk through had quietly extended a gesture of grace to my own home.
And ever since that day, when I step into the garden at dawn or dusk, I instinctively look up — hoping that another flying dream might silently return to my doorstep.
Note: A detailed scientific account of this sighting has been prepared separately.
Mir Faizan Anwar is a Range Officer with the J&K Forest Department and a wildlife enthusiast.
Views expressed are the author’s own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth