Now let me tell you about paradise. I had food and shelter. I could climb and glide. I was free! And it really was great, except that, well, I have a confession to make. We are called SUGAR gliders for a reason. We like sweets. If there is an insect that tastes sweet, I haven’t met it. Most of them are pungent, or bitter. It’s great tasting, don’t get me wrong. But what is life if you can’t have dessert sometimes, right? I had a steady diet of insects and mice. I had culled the mice population considerably, and they were now an endangered species in my territory.
Then the rats showed up. Big bad wharf rats. They are some mean, ugly rodents. And they can climb! I was suddenly the prey, and I didn’t like it. Fortunately, the nightwatchman didn’t like it either.
I would have liked to taste wharf rat, just for the experience, mind you. But the nightwatchman was more humane than hungry, so he trapped them and took them away. He also spent a lot of time filling in holes and gaps so that they couldn’t return. And I heard him boasting that his was the only rat-free warehouse in town. So, since I had eaten most of the mice and the survivors were hiding, I was back on a steady diet of insects, until one night, he brought candy to work.
The nights were getting cooler, and there were fewer insects now because of the colder air. I was a little worried, a little sleepier, a little thinner, and a lot hungrier, or I wouldn’t have risked it. I could smell the sweets. I began dreaming about sweets. I could see the sweets sitting there on his desk. I was going crazy trying to curb my craving, but it wasn’t working. The main problems were that he was awake when I was awake, he put the candy in his locker when he left every morning, and he was never away from his desk for more than a few minutes. Well, I couldn’t do anything about the first two problems, but maybe I could lure him away from his desk. But how?
I was desperate, so I made a peace pact with the surviving mice. If they would help me just once, I would stop eating them. After a rather prolonged meeting, they decided to at least listen to my plan, but they insisted that I keep a safe distance from them.
My plan was simple: we all had to eat, and I knew where there was a bin of oats stored. It was being kept in a special plastic crate, which is why the mice hadn’t found it yet. I assured them that I could manipulate the latch and that they could have a feast.
They wanted to know why I was being so thoughtful. I guess knowing I had eaten some of their relatives made them suspicious, but I was just trying to make amends and I thought they might want some corn for the winter months. If they weren’t interested, it was no skin off my tail, and I started to leave.
They chattered for a short time. It was quite an argument. The females argued that they were short of food for the winter and they were unable to leave the warehouse because of the extra security.
The males argued that the flying squirrel was a threat. I got really angry at that and started to enter the fray, so to speak, but remembered that I needed them to buy into my plan, so I calmed down and swallowed my pride. They insisted that I was up to something, because you don’t have someone for food one day and then feed their family the next day. It was touch and go for a while.
In the end, the females won the day. If you ask me, this is a fairly normal sequence of events.
So part one of my plan was set. I would unlatch the bin and the mice would start feeding.
Part two took some courage, planning, timing, and a little bit of luck. I had to expose myself to the guard, being careful to stay in the shadows. I didn’t want him to realize that I wasn’t a mouse. I had to make a noise so that he would look up, see me, and, if I was lucky, follow me. I had found a metal bottle cap in his trashcan a while back and I carried it up to my ‘staging’ area.
Once I knew the mice were distracted by the oats, I set part 2 into motion. First, I dropped the bottle cap so that it made a loud, distinct noise. Then I hurried to the corner of a crate, keeping in shadow, but staying where he would see me if and when he came to investigate. My plan was working. He spotted me! Once I was spotted, I made sure he saw me race off into the direction of the oat bin. On the way, just to make sure he followed, I dropped another bottle cap, and then I hid behind another crate.
Once he passed by, I headed for the cabinet and my candy. Blueberry, papaya, even strawberry flavored candy. I got so excited (and greedy) that I almost forgot this was a grab-and-go.
Fortunately, I have very good hearing and I heard the guard returning. That wasn’t really too difficult, because he was grumbling and complaining about the mess, and the mice, and wondering who had left the bin open.
Everything was going according to plan. I was sitting on a few days’ worth of sugar, and I could use a very small piece to lure some insects into my larder. I was so busy patting myself on the back that I didn’t see the consequences of my actions. (Sound familiar?)
I did thoroughly enjoy the candy and the ants and roaches, but after about a week, the candy was gone and so were the insects. And it was cold. Very cold. The mice had gone into hiding. The insects were gone, and the guard wasn’t leaving anything, not even scraps, in the trash can near his desk.
I had to find food or I was done for. I sat every night watching the watchman eat his meal. The peanut butter and pickle sandwiches didn’t look very good, but the chicken sandwich with apples looked delicious.
I knew he was due for a chicken dinner, so I planned another diversion. I worked throughout the evening to move some bottle caps, screws, and bolts into place. Then, as soon as he sat down with his dinner, I kicked them off of the box where I had put them. I heard him grunt and begin walking, and I took off to his desk.
I jumped from crate to crate, gliding when necessary, until I reached his desk. Then, I was able to glide down and help myself to a big piece of chicken before he started back. I had counted the seconds it would take him to reach the room where his desk sat, so I knew I had about 30 seconds to finish eating and skedaddle. Unfortunately, I hadn’t taken into account my weakened state nor how hungry I was, and I forgot to count the seconds.
I was still munching on the apple when he returned. He must have seen me sitting on the desk, and decided to tiptoe, because he was so quiet that I didn’t know he was there until darkness descended. I was trapped. I couldn’t dig out from under whatever was covering me, and I couldn’t chew or scratch through it. It was plastic. I am ashamed to admit it, but since I couldn’t get out, he couldn’t get in to save his sandwich, so I ate it. I did save him the bread, lettuce, and tomato, but I don’t think he ate them. I heard him say something about rodents ruining his dinner for the last time, but I was focused on eating quickly. I needed to replenish my energy so that I would be able to move swiftly when I got the chance to escape. Alas, I never got the chance.
After a while, I heard another voice. A soft, friendly voice. Then the ground began to shake, and before I knew what was happening, I was in a small cage and that soft, friendly voice was saying, “Well that’s the funniest mouse I’ve ever seen.” I jumped for the cage door, but she had closed it tight, and when she saw that I could reach through the bars of the cage and manipulate the latch, she slipped something through the latch so that I couldn’t open the cage door. I was yelling at her that I WAS NOT A MOUSE! But of course, she couldn’t understand my words. She could, however, understand that I was angry. Very angry. And then, I lost it. I collapsed. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t climb. I couldn’t even yell anymore. I felt so weak and just knew I was going to California after all. It was the end of me. And I blacked out.
When I came to, I thought, “This is why Mother didn’t want me to go to California.” I mean, it smelled too clean, and everything was white. The lights were too bright, I could hear strange noises, and something was stuck in my leg, but worst of all, I couldn’t move anything but my eyes. And the lights hurt them so much that I didn’t want to open them. Then I heard a familiar voice. That soft, friendly voice said, “It’s nice to see you awake, little one.” I opened my eyes just a crack, and I saw her. The woman who called me “funny mouse.” If I had had the energy, I would have bit her when she rubbed my head. But I didn’t have the energy, and besides, I couldn’t move. Remember?
So I figured I wasn’t in California because the nice woman was there and it seemed like a pleasant place. That’s good, I guess. But where was I? I found out over the next few days that I was in a hospital. A special hospital that’s just for exotic animals that are ‘in a bad way.’ I liked being an ‘exotic’ animal much more than being a rodent, but I didn’t like the sound of ‘in a bad way’. What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not bad. They fed me some bugs. They were dried bugs, but still, it was thoughtful of them. I was careful not to nip their fingers. I still couldn’t move, and I was very hungry. It wasn’t long before they let me up. I was able to move! They had tied me down so that they could give me something called an ivy. It’s not like that green plant that grows in the garden. This was a tube that put fluids into me. It didn’t hurt, but I still didn’t like it.
Anyway, the next day, the lady with the soft, friendly voice took me to her house. She put me in a very soft fleece pocket and held me close while we drove there. It was a much nicer trip than the one to the warehouse.
When we got to her house, I met her family. I wasn’t very happy. She had a 9-year-old too. But hers was a boy. When the lady took me out of the pocket, her son came over to look at me. I was still weak, but not too weak to yell at him to keep back. I expected them to laugh at me, but do you know what? They didn’t. And the kid talked to me. Quietly, like his mom. And his dad didn’t call me a rodent.
In fact, he knew quite a lot about sugar gliders. He was explaining to his son about us, what we needed, where we live, how we hunt, what we like to do, that sort of thing. I listened very carefully because my first family didn’t seem to know anything except that we needed food and water, and some fleecy toys. But this man knew that I needed a friend (not a human one), I needed exercise (he even mentioned glide time), that I enjoyed being around people (we’ll see about that), and that I required a varied and special diet (this man was gonna be a cinch to train!).
It’s taken me a few months to train them properly, and you’d better appreciate that, but they’re good people. Our cage is in the boys’ room (his name is Michael, but I call him Quiet Man, because he’s so quiet), and he lets me run around at night. The only thing off-limits is supposed to be his computer. I peed on the old one once, just to mark it, you know. It never worked right after that, and he has a new one now.
Anyway, thanks for listening to my story, and I hope you understand why I have daymares sometimes.
Maybe sometime you can tell me your story? For now, wanna see my hammock? You can share it if you want.
So we come to the happy ending of our tale. We hope you enjoyed it and learned something new about sugar gliders!
A Well Planned Escape Reading Comprehension Activity
After reading the story, you can have fun testing your knowledge of sugar gliders!
Read each question, and either circle the image or check the correct box. It’s okay to look back over the story if you forget!
You can download the activity, and if you want more sugar glider fun, check out these sugar glider fun facts and coloring page!
Get Your own sugar glider journal
If you loved learning about sugar gliders or have your own pet sugar glider, check out our sugar glider journals!
We have 13 different designs and themes to choose from!
They make great gifts, or as a journal, a diary, a notebook, for tracking dietary needs, for creative writing and more!
