“In the dimming light of early summer, we step onto a soft forest path, entering the realm of tall, ancient, and thick trees. The verdancy of the forest is on the cusp of full bloom, and there’s a moist, fresh feeling of a new summer in the evening air.

Our guide leads us on with an unspoken agreement that now is a time for silence, patience, and nature watching. Every whisper is carefully considered, so as not to disturb the mysterious inhabitant we’ve come to admire – the flying squirrel, a rare and mythical being of Finnish nature, moving in the protection of shadows.

We settle without a stir, maintaining silence, sharpening our focus on the forest’s shadows. Every so often, a soft rustle can be heard, perhaps the creak of a branch, as the forest’s smaller residents prepare for the night. The evening song of the blackbird harmonizes with the woodland. The dark forest is teeming with life, most of it hidden from view.

As the evening curtain falls, the silhouette of a flying squirrel may come into view against the dusky sky, or we may catch a glimpse of it peeking out with its large black eyes from a tree hollow. This rare and incredibly fortunate sight is the reward for the patience and respect we have shown towards the forest.”