Over the summer of 2020, I befriended a sweet little Eastern Chipmunk. It only took a few days to win her trust so that she ate out of my hand, allowed me to pet her and followed me about the yard. I know she only tolerated me for food, but I’ll take that and call us square because she gave me much more than I gave her. She cracked me up with her antics and when she headed home and hopped high over a fallen branch, it tickled my heart and I laughed out loud every time. Da dump, da dump, da dump played in my head when she ran and jumped, her little legs soaring through the air and tail pointed high.
I researched chipmunks to understand their dietary requirements and it encompassed a bit of everything. Unfortunately, I had been giving her mostly sunflower seeds that are high in calories that could have caused her to over indulge and become ill. So, I thought I’d go to the Farmer’s CO-OP in Bridgewater to buy food that would suit her. I donned my mask and entered the store and I’m immediately overwhelmed by the seed selection so I queried the cashier, “What is the preferred food for chipmunks?” She kind of smirked, then shared a hint of an eye roll with her co-worker then tells me that she’s never had that request before, that most people come in to find out how to kill them. “Oh”, I said. That thought hadn’t occurred to me although I can understand why. Chipmunks are considered pests by many, members of the squirrel family (Sciuridae) within the order of Rodentia, yes rodents and close cousins to rats. To me they are just one of the little four legged creatures that go about their business, hoping to live out their natural life span without being killed and eaten, they reproduce and take care of their babies while hoping to live in relative comfort, not unlike the rest of us…..
I read the labels and helped myself to a seed mixture that would be suitable for my Chippy and the birds I’ve been attracting to the feeders and placed it on the counter. The cashier smiled and proceeded to tell me the story of a tamed chipmunk in her youth, so she did understand after all.
Chipmunks have a varied diet, and love most seeds but they will also eat bird eggs and small snakes if their dietary preference is not readably available. I suppose feeding her a regular infusion of a plant-based food will help spare other little creatures in the yard. Hubby says I’m only encouraging her to have more litters, that Chipmunks are rodents. He doesn’t think I should be feeding wild creatures of any kind, that I’m upsetting the balance of nature but hey, I’m okay with that. Of all the crazy things people do in this world, to animals, themselves and one another, feeding one cute little chipmunk can be my bad and I’ll live with the consequences! I’m calling myself Mrs. Dolittle, I love animals and I do talk to them, my surname is Little, just sayin.
There’s also a couple of red squirrels I am getting to know. They don’t hibernate like the Chipmunks so I’ve been feeding them daily. I know where each of them lives and as long as they are not taking up residence in our attic we will get along. My yard is teaming with wild life and its an interesting and exciting place to be for this aging empath and introvert. But there is a limit to my communing with nature, as long as I’m not attracting bears, I’ll be fine.
Chippy always came when I called her if she wasn’t already waiting on the back step when I arose in the morning. I have a metal measuring cup that I use to scoop the various seeds and nuts to dump on the rock wall beside the house. Then I’d tap the cup on the rocks. Ding, ding, ding and she darted out of her burrow and ran across the driveway to get to me; a Pavlov’s response I suppose. I’m noticing the yard fills up with birds as I ring the breakfast bell for Chez Little’s take away. The number of feeders I put out has exponentially grown along with my interest in birding but that is story for another day.
I prefer it when she is waiting for me because I’ve been noticing how watchful birds can be and if my tapping means a quick meal will be scurrying across the yard, something bigger and more ominous could be watching from a tall branch.
Chippy practices caution. Her instincts are well honed for survival. She takes different routes to her burrow and she mixes the times for each trek. For instance, one route she’ll go directly under the car and stop there for a moment to check her surroundings and then scoot across the driveway and down her burrow hole. Every third time, she’ll travel all around the back of the garage along the boulder wall and my favourite, crawl along the slate rock wall behind my side garden and then scoot across the driveway and home. She knows that patterns can be followed and put her in peril so she’s mixing it up to make sure she can ride the gravy train as long as possible.
When she is in my hand or on the rock feeding, certain bird calls, like ospreys and hawks, make her freeze in mid nibble. She’ll listen until she doesn’t see any threat and then continues. Chipmunks only live about three years, and I’m not sure how old this one is but I’m hoping we are in the budding stages of our time together. When she is near and I watch her, I feel a calm envelope me, my heart slows, stress melts away and the world is a glorious place. There is something serene in watching her eat or when I feel her warm little body in my hand, her tiny feet lightly scratch as she crawls up my leg to sit on my lap. An interesting tidbit, a chipmunk has four fingers on her front paws and five fingers on her rear feet. Such a tiny, vulnerable creature sharing an unlikely bond with a human. How amazing. It’s humbling and sweet, the need to be needed fulfilled in spades.
One day she didn’t come to the porch when I called and called and called. I grew worried, she was so prompt every day for weeks. I went over to her burrow area and was horrified to see that the entrance had been tampered with, the hole was larger and there was a pile of fresh dirt thrown back as if something was wildly digging to get in. My mind travelled to dark places and I was certain my Chippy had fallen prey to a weasel or a fox or some other predator. I made myself sick with grief, ask Deborah how much I moaned at the shop that day. I went through the motions at work but my mind never drifted too far away from her. I rushed home at 5:00 and called her again but she didn’t show. My life seemed to stand still as all hope drained away. I was so desperate to see her I fiercely pounded the rock with the metal cup, enough to wake the dead in the next county. I read Chipmunks sleep 15 hours a day but I felt in my heart of hearts that she wouldn’t be coming back.
Two torturous days followed and then I saw a chipmunk on the rock under the lilac tree and I rushed out but it was the other little fellow that is usually chased away. She got in a good feed that day without being run off, stuffing her cheeks time after time and carrying the cache back to her burrow.
Three mornings later, I went outside and there she was, my Chippy, sitting on the cement step waiting for me. I almost cried. And then I thought, you silly woman, nature is what it is, I can’t change it and I have to stop mourning and letting it alter my mood and ruin my day. I have to enjoy her while I can and then move on when she is gone. But of course, that’s hard to do. I’ve grown attached. I have feelings for the little twirp to hold me emotionally hostage. I tried to make light of it to hubby, saying she couldn’t come to eat because I fed her so much food, she needed more storage room and had to ream out her burrow. Apparently one Chipmunk needs to gather up to a half bushel of food to survive a winter and their burrows have several chambers for food storage called pantries. They also have a sleeping room, a dump and a latrine, a birthing area and several entrances and exits. Perhaps she had to turn her little underground bungalow into a condo for all the cache she was getting from me. Yup, she’s movin’ on up! She’ll have more than enough to survive the winter on. Anyway, I’m not sure what happened for those couple of days, all I can do is assume. Maybe the country girl was off visiting the city cousin, and she’s not come consistently everyday since, so I’m trying not to worry and enjoy her while I can.
There is another chipmunk that visits to eat but they are territorial animals and a chase always ensues, with my girl usually winning the race. She’s not sharing and makes that perfectly clear. I don’t like that one gets food while another is left out, so I place fare in different areas so they can both fill their cheeks and bellies. Some would say that makes my girl a bully, but that’s only anthropomorphizing her, it’s instinctual, survival of the fittest in our Darwinian world.
Chipmunks hibernate so I haven’t seen either of them for a couple of months. One day as the temperatures began to cool in early December, as if on que, they both stopped coming to the porch and now their burrow entrances are piled high with snow. They are in for a long winters rest with nary a worry, they are safely tucked away and their pantries are full. I look forward to the spring so we can hang out again. It will be interesting and entertaining with two chipmunks and the three squirrels all vying for my handouts. I hope to have them all eating out of my hand by summer. Who needs TV?
I researched chipmunks to understand their dietary requirements and it encompassed a bit of everything. Unfortunately, I had been giving her mostly sunflower seeds that are high in calories that could have caused her to over indulge and become ill. So, I thought I’d go to the Farmer’s CO-OP in Bridgewater to buy food that would suit her. I donned my mask and entered the store and I’m immediately overwhelmed by the seed selection so I queried the cashier, “What is the preferred food for chipmunks?” She kind of smirked, then shared a hint of an eye roll with her co-worker then tells me that she’s never had that request before, that most people come in to find out how to kill them. “Oh”, I said. That thought hadn’t occurred to me although I can understand why. Chipmunks are considered pests by many, members of the squirrel family (Sciuridae) within the order of Rodentia, yes rodents and close cousins to rats. To me they are just one of the little four legged creatures that go about their business, hoping to live out their natural life span without being killed and eaten, they reproduce and take care of their babies while hoping to live in relative comfort, not unlike the rest of us…..
I read the labels and helped myself to a seed mixture that would be suitable for my Chippy and the birds I’ve been attracting to the feeders and placed it on the counter. The cashier smiled and proceeded to tell me the story of a tamed chipmunk in her youth, so she did understand after all.
Chipmunks have a varied diet, and love most seeds but they will also eat bird eggs and small snakes if their dietary preference is not readably available. I suppose feeding her a regular infusion of a plant-based food will help spare other little creatures in the yard. Hubby says I’m only encouraging her to have more litters, that Chipmunks are rodents. He doesn’t think I should be feeding wild creatures of any kind, that I’m upsetting the balance of nature but hey, I’m okay with that. Of all the crazy things people do in this world, to animals, themselves and one another, feeding one cute little chipmunk can be my bad and I’ll live with the consequences! I’m calling myself Mrs. Dolittle, I love animals and I do talk to them, my surname is Little, just sayin.
There’s also a couple of red squirrels I am getting to know. They don’t hibernate like the Chipmunks so I’ve been feeding them daily. I know where each of them lives and as long as they are not taking up residence in our attic we will get along. My yard is teaming with wild life and its an interesting and exciting place to be for this aging empath and introvert. But there is a limit to my communing with nature, as long as I’m not attracting bears, I’ll be fine.
Chippy always came when I called her if she wasn’t already waiting on the back step when I arose in the morning. I have a metal measuring cup that I use to scoop the various seeds and nuts to dump on the rock wall beside the house. Then I’d tap the cup on the rocks. Ding, ding, ding and she darted out of her burrow and ran across the driveway to get to me; a Pavlov’s response I suppose. I’m noticing the yard fills up with birds as I ring the breakfast bell for Chez Little’s take away. The number of feeders I put out has exponentially grown along with my interest in birding but that is story for another day.
I prefer it when she is waiting for me because I’ve been noticing how watchful birds can be and if my tapping means a quick meal will be scurrying across the yard, something bigger and more ominous could be watching from a tall branch.
Chippy practices caution. Her instincts are well honed for survival. She takes different routes to her burrow and she mixes the times for each trek. For instance, one route she’ll go directly under the car and stop there for a moment to check her surroundings and then scoot across the driveway and down her burrow hole. Every third time, she’ll travel all around the back of the garage along the boulder wall and my favourite, crawl along the slate rock wall behind my side garden and then scoot across the driveway and home. She knows that patterns can be followed and put her in peril so she’s mixing it up to make sure she can ride the gravy train as long as possible.
When she is in my hand or on the rock feeding, certain bird calls, like ospreys and hawks, make her freeze in mid nibble. She’ll listen until she doesn’t see any threat and then continues. Chipmunks only live about three years, and I’m not sure how old this one is but I’m hoping we are in the budding stages of our time together. When she is near and I watch her, I feel a calm envelope me, my heart slows, stress melts away and the world is a glorious place. There is something serene in watching her eat or when I feel her warm little body in my hand, her tiny feet lightly scratch as she crawls up my leg to sit on my lap. An interesting tidbit, a chipmunk has four fingers on her front paws and five fingers on her rear feet. Such a tiny, vulnerable creature sharing an unlikely bond with a human. How amazing. It’s humbling and sweet, the need to be needed fulfilled in spades.
One day she didn’t come to the porch when I called and called and called. I grew worried, she was so prompt every day for weeks. I went over to her burrow area and was horrified to see that the entrance had been tampered with, the hole was larger and there was a pile of fresh dirt thrown back as if something was wildly digging to get in. My mind travelled to dark places and I was certain my Chippy had fallen prey to a weasel or a fox or some other predator. I made myself sick with grief, ask Deborah how much I moaned at the shop that day. I went through the motions at work but my mind never drifted too far away from her. I rushed home at 5:00 and called her again but she didn’t show. My life seemed to stand still as all hope drained away. I was so desperate to see her I fiercely pounded the rock with the metal cup, enough to wake the dead in the next county. I read Chipmunks sleep 15 hours a day but I felt in my heart of hearts that she wouldn’t be coming back.
Two torturous days followed and then I saw a chipmunk on the rock under the lilac tree and I rushed out but it was the other little fellow that is usually chased away. She got in a good feed that day without being run off, stuffing her cheeks time after time and carrying the cache back to her burrow.
Three mornings later, I went outside and there she was, my Chippy, sitting on the cement step waiting for me. I almost cried. And then I thought, you silly woman, nature is what it is, I can’t change it and I have to stop mourning and letting it alter my mood and ruin my day. I have to enjoy her while I can and then move on when she is gone. But of course, that’s hard to do. I’ve grown attached. I have feelings for the little twirp to hold me emotionally hostage. I tried to make light of it to hubby, saying she couldn’t come to eat because I fed her so much food, she needed more storage room and had to ream out her burrow. Apparently one Chipmunk needs to gather up to a half bushel of food to survive a winter and their burrows have several chambers for food storage called pantries. They also have a sleeping room, a dump and a latrine, a birthing area and several entrances and exits. Perhaps she had to turn her little underground bungalow into a condo for all the cache she was getting from me. Yup, she’s movin’ on up! She’ll have more than enough to survive the winter on. Anyway, I’m not sure what happened for those couple of days, all I can do is assume. Maybe the country girl was off visiting the city cousin, and she’s not come consistently everyday since, so I’m trying not to worry and enjoy her while I can.
There is another chipmunk that visits to eat but they are territorial animals and a chase always ensues, with my girl usually winning the race. She’s not sharing and makes that perfectly clear. I don’t like that one gets food while another is left out, so I place fare in different areas so they can both fill their cheeks and bellies. Some would say that makes my girl a bully, but that’s only anthropomorphizing her, it’s instinctual, survival of the fittest in our Darwinian world.
Chipmunks hibernate so I haven’t seen either of them for a couple of months. One day as the temperatures began to cool in early December, as if on que, they both stopped coming to the porch and now their burrow entrances are piled high with snow. They are in for a long winters rest with nary a worry, they are safely tucked away and their pantries are full. I look forward to the spring so we can hang out again. It will be interesting and entertaining with two chipmunks and the three squirrels all vying for my handouts. I hope to have them all eating out of my hand by summer. Who needs TV?
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