Critters Hate a Vacuum (and not the kind that is used to dispose of them . . . )

A week since my last entry announcing the demise of Chip-Chip has now seen how much critters hate a vacuum: As I sit writing this post, a brigade of gophers (13-lined ground squirrels) has taken up strategic positions around the deck and the gardens. An undisciplined lot, they spend more time chasing each other around than in performing their missions, which, unfortunately, includes attacking the strawberry bed and eating the strawberries. But do they eat them? No. It's as if they want to nibble every last one of the strawberries to make sure that they get the sweetest one, leaving behind dented and wounded strawberry casualties. Okay, enough of the military analogies.


Now for the other news . . .


Two young chipmunks just appeared by the deck. They were very skittish and darted off as soon as they saw me. But the summer is young. The peanuts are plentiful . . . and the reconnaissance has just begun.

The End

Unfortunately, the first post is the last post concerning Chip-Chip. Since his early visits, he suddenly disappeared and has not returned now for months.

The conclusion is indisputable.

Chip-Chip and company have left, moving on to other places and peanuts and laps. The gophers--make that the 13-lined ground squirrels--have taken over his burrow beneath the garage foundation. Even Mangy the grey squirrel seems to notice his absence. It was a good run while it lasted.

Good bye . . .

April 11 -- The Return

Change is in the air. The return of life shows itself. Beneath matted leaves the evergreen creeping phlox and the tulips emerge. The grackles have returned. The dark-eyed juncos are gathering in greater numbers. And the sun is finally warm to the skin.

As I opened the back door, it was there, the other object of my spring thoughts, on the picnic table, now clear of snow and ice and shelled sunflower seeds. Chip-Chip was back. He was skittish at first, but after a few minutes he re-emerged from the knothole in the deck and checked me out. He then gathered the peanuts I left on the floor. It will probably be a few weeks before he jumps into my lap and settles in for a daily feeding. Maybe not. Then another ritual began. As I fed the chipmunk, the grey squirrel bounded on the deck, expecting to be fed as well.

Some things never change . . .

February 2009

This blog has been dormant, much as the chipmunks have throughout the winter, although hints of spring--the occasional day above freezing--may mean that the chipmunks may soon emerge from their burrows, perhaps in another eight to ten weeks. Will any reappear around here?

In the meantime, cardinals, chickadees, finches, nuthatches, and sparrows have routinely visited the feeders. Rarely, a red-headed woodpecker has made a dramatic appearance. The bluejays have been whisking off the peanuts, and the squirrels, in their heavy winter coats, swipe whatever food the birds are tardy in fetching. Finally, the rabbits have remained camouflaged by evening's low light and their secretive hiding places, betrayed only by their tracks mingled with those of the squirrels and by the remains of their twig and bark meals.

Say no more . . .

Autumn to Winter

The 2008 election marks the end of one era and the beginning of another. So it is with the life of the chipmunks and grey squirrels. The chipmunks have been gone now for several weeks. They've been replaced by an entire family of squirrels now sporting their winter overcoats. The squirrels, perhaps by necessity, have become incredibly tame. I can call to them, and they'll come right up to me--as long as I show them a handful of peanuts. Bribery. Squirrels. Politics. Somehow it all ties together. Good bye for now. Sine die.

Change in Activity Levels

On the chipmunk front, Chip Chip is still around and still collecting peanuts. He does, however, have a tendency to go into hiding for a day or two before re-emerging. Surprisingly, a young chipmunk--like a juvenile or slightly younger--showed up one day. But that was it. I haven't seen it since then.

Another surprise: The grey squirrels are getting tamer. They will approach me and practically beg for food. They also eat off the table. Bad manners, yes. Grey squirrels are still a bit rough around the edges--like a lot of people, no doubt.

I'm also in the process of training the bluejays. (We may be training each other.) First, the birds will shrilly announce their presence and then land in the juniper tree. As soon as they do, I throw a peanut out on the patio bricks. The sound alerts them, and they will swoop down for it in less than a chipmunk's patience for grey squirrels. That didn't make a lot of sense, but to say that it's pretty quick. The next step is luring the bluejays closer and closer to get a peanut. The final step will be to train the grey squirrels to arm wrestle the bluejays for a peanut. Okay, now this is getting silly . . .

Fall Days

Chip Chip has spent his days on the back deck, poking out of the knothole, checking out the area, before jumping out and scurrying about. He's tame, even aggressive, unless it's windy or there's construction noise. Then he's a nervous wreck. (Forget what I said earlier about chipmunks having strong constitutions.)

The grey squirrels have also changed. Whereas maybe one would approach the deck to solicit a peanut, now three or four not only approach me but will peak through the back door to determine my whereabouts.

It's all about peanuts.

Even the bluejays will get perilously close to me, diving below the picnic table, in pursuit of peanuts. Which leads me to a financial question: Am I now bound to supply these critters their rations throughout the grim days of winter?

Everybody wants my money. And the stock market isn't doing its job in replenishing my funds. Quite the contrary.

Down to One

The storms and possible flooding may have marked the end of Rose. Chip-Chip, if he's still around, remains out of sight. Only one chipmunk returns to eat peanuts--Junior, possibly the son of Rose. So from five or six, now there is one.

Such is the short, uncertain life of a chipmunk . . . .

Summer Days Shorten

The bad news is that just about all the chipmunks have disappeared, even Rose, whose willingness to jump into my lap and whose fussiness meant that several peanuts simply wouldn't pass muster, no longer perches on my knee. I miss her.

Only one chipmunk seems to make very brief appearances. I don't know who it is, and that's the way it seems to want our relationship to remain. In short, either the chipmunks have gotten more wild, hide far more often, or have dispersed. They are loners by nature, so it's possible there were simply too many for comfort in a relatively small piece of real estate.

If there's any good news, the bluejay population, in all its raucous behavior and sounds, has ballooned, along with that of the grey squirrels. I enjoy the bluejays. Though somewhat abrasive to the ears, they are a beautiful and intelligent bird.

And they're fun to watch . . . but not as fun as the chipmunks.

Whatever happened to Rose, and Chip-Chip, and Chipper, and the 3 youngsters,

I will miss them all.

A Possible Answer as to Why the Chipmunks have become Scarce

Here is my current working theory, based on the assumption that a population explosion of critters leads to a corrective population reduction response by other critters: In other words, just as the squirrels have stalked the chipmunks for their peanuts, and just as the chipmunks have stalked me--to see what I'm watching on TV--and just as just about everything is stalking the 13-lined ground squirrels and the plethora of bunnies, the stray cat population--now up to two--has begun stalking any of the critters unfortunate enough to get caught unwary.

I chase them away, but sometimes too late, when they already have a critter casualty in their bloodthirsty mouths.

Which leads to this small request on my part: KEEP YOUR DAMN CATS IN YOUR OWN DAMN YARD!!!! (See previous posts about how much damage cats can wreak on wildlife.)

Thank you.

It's 9:55 pm. Do you know where your cat is? YOU DAMN WELL BETTER!

Mid-Summer Mystery

All's quiet on the chipmunk manor. Chip-Chip has not been taking his food, either on the front step or in the garage. Chipper has been absent now for weeks. And Rose has not made an appearance since shortly after the Fourth of July. Junior, Scooter, and June are nowhere to be seen. What's going on?

On the more hopeful side, the red squirrel still makes an occasional appearance, the grey squirrels are getting friendier, now coming up to the deck to beg for food, the gopher population is taking a hit from the neighborhood cat, the red headed woodpecker is now a regular visitor at the feeder, and the blue jays return to the juniper tree daily to beg for peanuts.

Still, what happened to the chipmunks? Just weeks ago there were five or six.

Has tragedy visited the chipmunks?

Summer Update

One of the three baby chipmunk stays close to the security of the woodpile.

One of the more adventurous baby chipmunks tries a little tree climbing.

As it turns out, there are not two but three new chipmunks: Their names are Junior, June, and Scooter. Since they're all so small and indistinguishable from each other, I simply refer to them all as Chippy. One, so far, is willing to sniff a person's toes, but won't jump up into a lap.

Rose is the one to do that. She'll actually try running up my (bare) leg if I don't drop a peanut fast enough for her. She'll also sit in my lap, eat on the table, and turn away any peanut not to her liking. Apparently, before stuffing as many as three peanuts into her cheeks, she chews off the rough edges to make sure that they don't irritate her. If a peanut is cracked--or is open on one end--she quickly drops it and asks for something of better quality.

I said chipmunks were demanding. Now it's clear just how demanding.

Other news: Yesterday, I noticed five different kinds of ground squirrels in the back yard: (1) the chipmunks, (2) a half-grown rabbit, (3) several grey squirrels, (4) the notorious thirteen-lined ground squirrel, and (the most recent guest) (5) the red squirrel. (See picture.) The red squirrel is somewhere between the chipmunk and the grey squirrel in size and is probably the most agile tree climber of any of its ground squirrel cousins. Whether it makes any sounds is yet to be discovered.

Meanwhile Chip-Chip still resides behind the front step and routinely visits the garage for food. One day he stuffed so many peanuts and sunflower seeds into the car's engine that they blew out all over the floor when I turned on the heater. What a mess!

On a related note, a mouse built a nest inside the riding lawn mower, right next to the battery case. After I stopped the mower on the driveway to fill up with gas, I noticed that the mouse came out of the bottom of the mower, no worse for its ride, and it was holding a baby mouse in its mouth. Well, I pushed the mower back, and the mouse kept running underneath it. Finally, it raced for the open garage, with the baby still in tow. Something didn't feel quite right, so I investigated the riding lawn mower and found a nest inside--with two more babies in it. I scooped out the nest, put it in a bucket, and laid the bucket on its side toward the rear of the garage. In just a few minutes, the babies were gone. The mother had fetched them. So they all survived a ride across the lawn on the riding lawn mower, were reunited, and are probably stuffing sunflower seeds somewhere in my car.

Moral: No good deed goes unpunished.

Almost Summer

Summer Notes

Chip-Chip, the character who motivated this blog, continues to live behind the front step, suns himself in the afternoon, and has grown somewhat shy—perhaps from recent visits by stray cats or by the population explosion of grey squirrels that swipe the food and water left out for him.

Chipper seems to have disappeared altogether. He or she lived in the burrow along the foundation of the neighbor’s garage. Since a strong storm and heavy rains flooded the burrow, I worried that any babies would be drowned. But I didn't worry about Chipper. Given chipmunks’ ability to create multiple escape routes, it was unlikely that Chipper was drowned out.

Rose, to a large degree, has stolen the story line. She is now so tame that she practically jumps in my lap when I’m sitting on the deck; she will follow me around in the garden and jump up on my running shoes if I don’t offer her a peanut quickly enough; and, as already mentioned, she will invite herself into the house. She has gotten so aggressive and so tame that at feeding time she jumped into the basket on the grill trying to solicit peanuts from me—and the grill was full of white-hot coals. Covering the lid and warning Rose of the dangers of getting to close to an oven, I imagined for a moment the possibility of roast chipmunk.

Rose also chases off Junior if they get too close to each other on the deck. Junior will usually approach Rose and sniff noses; she rebuffs the affection and shoes away the adolescent. Nothing violent. But Junior knows enough not to bother her. Junior is also not the only half-pint chipmunk, as earlier and erroneously reported. Junior in fact has a sibling. Scooter. The back yard now has two chipmunks from Generation Next.

Finally, just as Rose chases off the junior generation, the catbirds have been more than a little aggressive in keeping the chipmunks away from their nest. For shy birds, the catbirds chase away the chipmunks any chance they get, and, in one instance, a catbird attacked Rose just as I was handing her a peanut, right in front of me. I was caught off guard and said something intelligent like, “Hey!” And Rose scampered off until the catbird settled in the nearby juniper tree. Undeterred by the catbird, Rose returned and continued to beg from me.

The catbird meowed from the branch, keeping a close eye on me as well. It didn’t seem too happy that I was an ally of its archenemy.

That’s some chutzpah from the notoriously shy bird. Apparently, where their young are concerned, catbirds are capable of surprising boldness.

Another New Neighbor

From the entrance of her burrow, Chipper checks to see whether the coast is clear . . .

. . . pauses to give me the once-over . . .

. . . races toward the strategically placed peanut . . .

. . . and enjoys a snack . . . and a break from Junior.

Chipper saves a peanut for later . . . or for Junior, who has yet to be photographed.

June Updates:

Rose invited herself into the house. She is one curious little chipmunk, sniffing around on the floor and checking out the furniture. I had to encourage her to return to her more appropriate accommodations . . . outside. Next time she will probably want a chocolate chip cookie and a cool glass of lemonade.

I have also been referring to Chipper with the wrong pronoun. Chipper, it appears, is another female chipmunk. A little pup appeared from her burrow along the neighbor's garage. Although it was skittish at first, it's now getting used to fetching peanuts from me. The little guy--or girl--is approximately two-thirds the size of Chipper.

Chip-Chip has been scarce today. But yesterday, he peeked in the front door, eavesdropping on my conversations, no doubt. He's also been known to climb the birdfeeder pole outside the living room window, perch on top the birdfeeder, and peer into the house. He's something of a little window peeker. So now what the grey squirrel was doing to Chipper, Chip-Chip is doing to me: In other words, I have a chipmunk stalker.

Who'd've thunk it.

A Noisy Neighborhood

A cousin of the chipmunk, the 13-lined ground squirrel has a few similar features, especially around the head area. It also lets out a warning call when threatened, just as the chipmunk does.

Everybody seems to be in a frenzy these days.

The grackles are busy feeding their squawking fledglings, both sounding disagreeable in the process. Grackles, by the way, are among the earliest nest builders, the earliest to lay eggs, and the earliest to fill up the neighborhood with a population increase-induced chatter. That they're among the earliest makes them also among the most successful. The young have a long period of decent weather to mature and prepare for winter, and, if tragic events should visit them--say, a storm destroys their nest--grackles have more than enough time to hatch another brood. Sparrows and finches come in a close second, followed by robins. The meat eaters, unfortunately, tend to build their nests late, have fewer chicks, and, as a result, their numbers hardly compare to those of the grackles. The swallows, wrens, and bluebirds are good examples.

The chipmunks are also chattering away. Sometimes, they will just sit still and chirp, probably calling to their buddies across the yard. To the inexperienced ear, the regular chirp of the chipmunk could easily be mistaken for the song of a finch or sparrow. It's fairly consistent and regular. If you watch a chipmunk calling another one, you'll see it pause, as if waiting for a reply. After awhile you'll notice when a "conversation" is taking place. And you have to hand it to the cross-talk of Rose, Chipper, and Chip-Chip: They can keep in touch with each other without text messaging or cell phones or outrageous carrier fees. Wi-fi and broadband don't improve the quality of their lives one little bit.

Myth buster Alert: You'll not have to look far to find some nit wit discussion about how chipmunks are solitary animals. Although it's true that they need their space--and they will chase off competitors for food, just as other critters and birds will do--chipmunks prefer company to isolation. Whether it's staying in touch through chirps or by lounging on the deck with a cool drink, chipmunks are social animals. At times, they seem to prefer scampering around the shoes of humans, sniffing them, and looking up curiously as if to find out who belongs to that particular scent. At other times, they seem to shun their human companions for a time and focus on each other. But the conclusion is clear: Just like most humans, chipmunks seek out contact with members of their own species or members of other species--us. (Another minor myth buster: A critic of my argument might suggest that chipmunks are merely exploiting their relationship with humans for food. That is in part true. But they will also ignore peanuts or sunflower seeds, preferring instead to just sit quietly and look at or listen to the ramblings of their human companion. They indeed show enduring patience for the long-winded rambler.)

Then there's the other kind of chipmunk communication.

If you want to hear a chipmunk throw a hissy fit, introduce a cat into the area. Chipmunks will act as if they're personally offended that such a nasty creature has encroached upon their territory and threatened their daily routines. Chip-Chip is no different. He seemed completely inconsolable for a good ten minutes when a cat decided to lounge on his front step.

Advice: If you hear chipmunks getting all worked up--which means that birds may be doing likewise--take a moment to step outside and check out the usual hiding places. A critter is probably lurking in their comfort zone. Get out the broom and redirect the critter into your neighbor's yard. Your neighbor won't mind.

An upset chipmunk will appreciate your attempts at comforting him.

A few peanuts couldn't hurt, either.

Approaching Summer

From her perch on the railing, Rose usually sees me before I see her. In either event, she does not mind the constant click of my camera.

During quiet moments--or after she's done eating peanuts or digging in the pots--Rose relaxes and cleans herself on the railing of the deck.

While the baby squirrels are busy joining their relatives in stealing seeds from the birdfeeder, they have yet to learn how to dangle upside down, as this veteran squirrel adroitly demonstrates.
The last day of May feels like the first day of summer. The heat and humidity have suddenly been turned on like a faucet. Along with them, the chipmunks are visible during longer periods throughout the day.

A routine is slowly developing: Chip-Chip now guards his territory around the front step, excavates around the foundation, and makes the occasional dangerous trip across the road to the neighbor's garage. Chipper lounges atop the wren house when he's not exploring the wood pile or being stalked by squirrels. And Rose remains nearby on the deck, chirping at times as if to remind me of my obligation to drop a few peanuts and at other times to scold the squirrels or birds for chasing her away from her food. She also explores the pots, digs in the plants, rubs her belly on the cool dirt, runs up to me, seemingly begging for a peanut, only to ignore it, and scampers off, playing the tease.

Rose is clearly the most vocal of the three chipmunks--and also the tamest. I wonder why.

Stray Cat: The Enemy of Critters

A stray cat wandering into a neighborhood raises more ruckus than a hole-pocked muffler on a surly teenager's car.

Yesterday, an evil-eyed calico cat, one that I had never seen before, attacked Chip-Chip on the front step. Fortunately, because Chip-Chip has an escape entry on the backside of the step, and lightning quick reflexes, the cat never had a chance to catch him. As he let out his high-pitched warning to other critters in the immediate vicinity that a trouble maker was on the loose, the nefarious cat pawed fruitlessly at the step before skulking off to find more trouble.

Side note: Did you ever notice that different species will help each other out? Birds will warn each other if a hawk or cat is in the area, even if under normal circumstances they don't give a hoot about each other. Squirrels will bark and growl with the same effect, and 13-lined ground squirrels and chipmunks will release a similar warning that alerts anyone else who cares to listen. Their warnings perhaps also have the unintended consequence of calling out the nearest Good Samaritan, willing to chase off the enemy with a stick.

I knew that Chip-Chip would be safe. But there was also a robin's nest directly above the step, so doing what I tend to do--interfering with the nature order of things--I went outside and chased the cat away. The elderly neighborhood whose garage is the second home to Chipper also lean out her front door and scolded the cat.

Here's a helpful tip about chasing cats away: They don't always leave at the first suggestion. In other words, they don't take the hint that they're unwelcome, especially when juicy little fledglings and baby squirrels and nervous chipmunks are in abundant supply. So keep looking for the cat, chase it once, chase it again, scavenge around in the ferns where it may be hiding, listen to the robins and catbirds (who, despite their name, really detest cats; if you hear a catbird mimicking a cat, that probably means that the cat is still around searching for a meal), and carry a stick, not that I advocate hitting cats, but as a way to poke around in the daylilies and shrubs where the cuddly killer may be lurking.

When the birds have finally settled down, the stray cat is probably out of the vicinity.

One other point: I don't dislike cats. Cats are some of my favorite people. I blame their owners, the ones too irresponsible to keep their cats under control. Please remember--and this is one of my occasionally serious points--domestic cats kill a lot of critters . . . a lot of critters. Don't let your cat be one of the guilty ones. Songbirds alone this year have died off from a lack of bugs--from a lack of warm weather. Let's help get their numbers back in shape. Remember from my other blog entry: Suet will help songbirds.

Conclusion: Stray cats, bad. Intervention, sometimes necessary, especially when fledglings can barely fly. Helpful neighbor lady, good. And fat, good. Again, share your fat. The songbirds will thank you. As we already know, Chip-Chip, Chipper, and Rose all enjoy the chorus of songbirds as well. The more, the better.

Spring Storm

A storm struck Sunday, with wind and rain and hail that pounded everything in sight.

The baby robins on the west side of the house received the full brunt of the storm. I thought that if the wind hadn't blown them out of their nest then the hail would pummel them senseless--that they'd be the first front yard casualties of spring. But much to my surprise, they survived, along with their parents. (Note to robin couple: Do what the smarter robins do and build your nest under an awning, use a roost, build under a pergola, use the south or east side of a building, and better yet, rent an apartment.)

Some random notes:

(1) Chip-Chip is getting into his wanderlust mood again, racing across the street and into the neighbor's garage. If he lasts the summer, he can thank higher fuel prices and reduced driving by minimum wage, surly teenagers who would love to run him down for sport.

(2) Rose is getting tamer by the day. She now practically sits with me on the back deck and reads the Sunday paper with me. Her favorite section is the comics, Dilbert in particular. Like many other chipmunks, she also jumps up on pots, digs holes in them, and even rolls around on top the cool, dry composted soil. Yesterday, she chirped like a bird, and I wondered whether she was chirping for her peanuts or for a boyfriend. Maybe both.

(3) Beyond his current stalker--who's still creeping around menacingly--Chipper may anticipate more struggles with squirrels. Yesterday, a frisky baby grey squirrel tussled with its mother as she gathered dead grass for their nest. That hyperactive little critter wouldn't give its mother a break, even insisting on a (short-lived) piggyback ride. I wonder who would win in a tussle between a full-grown chipmunk and a baby grey squirrel. It probably would end up in a disqualification: The mother and twenty-seven relatives would jump the chipmunk at the slightest sign of distress for the baby squirrel.

(4) The catbird couple is also getting tamer by the day. The notoriously shy birds will land on the miniature birdbath on the floor of the deck and have a leisurely drink of water. They're getting so tame in fact that I almost walked up to them before they flew off. Suet may be the key. With the cold weather and the scarcity of insects, the grey catbirds may out of necessity get used to me in order to get what little fat they can find. Perhaps there's a lesson in that for the other songbirds that have died in Minnesota: Share your fat with a starving bird. (Especially when the temperature is still flirting with the thirties . . . )

(5) More critters have passed through: Mourning doves, rose-breasted grosbeak, indigo bunting, Baltimore oriole, cardinal, one nervous mole, one scruffy looking rabbit, two ruby-throated hummingbirds, and one plump 13-lined ground squirrel. More pictures will follow to document my claims because, no doubt, my readers are skeptical about some of my claims. No doubt.

A Reluctant Spring

Spring has been a reluctant visitor here in Minnesota. In past weeks, robins have had to clear snowdrifts from their nests and treat their featherless young for frostbite.

Already toward the end of May, temperatures are finally approaching the seventies; the apple trees are blooming, and the flowering crabs and lilacs are releasing their perfume. The garden has been planted, and the grey squirrels are busy digging up the garden. It’s no wonder they’re known as t-r-o-u-b-l-e.

Spring is also showing on the critters. A fat rabbit that lingers under the bird feeder looks like it contains about twenty bunnies. A bloated grey squirrel seems glued to the bird feeder, shoveling in the sunflower seeds one by one, reluctant to give up its perch, even when I show up to whisk it away. It will look at me, squint, glower, and, deciding how serious a threat I pose, perhaps scamper off for a moment or two, only to return to its unshelled supply. Rose or Chip-Chip may be expecting as well. The daily food supply left in the garage has recently been cleaned up completely. In the past sunflower seeds or peanuts have been left behind. Eating for three or four or six, it seems, demands a lot more food.

More pressure on me.

Expectant mothers need their nutrition.

Since I’ve already interfered in the natural order of things, I feel obligated to continue, despite the added pressures on my grocery budget. (Even the catbirds are rapidly working their way through the fatty suet blocks in part because the cold weather has limited the availability of insects for their diets. Unfortunately, many songbirds have died this year because the cold weather has killed off the insects upon which they depend—so the next time you see a mosquito, remember that it is a good thing, at least for bluebirds and the rest.)

On the downside, if I’d discontinue feeding these local critters, they’d probably turn on me—chewing through my car tires or the nearest electrical wiring, starting a blaze, and, well, if that didn’t work perhaps starting rumors about me. Who knows where all that would end up? My name and an unflattering photo in the local newspaper? A nasty blog? A viral campaign? An insurgency? An uprising? A rebellion? Would UN peacekeepers need to intervene? Or Google?

A conspiracy of critters could be a dangerous thing.

The Stalker

Getting a peanut handed to him would seem an easy meal for Chipper . . . until the uninvited you know who shows up to create t-r-o-u-b-l-e.

From atop the wren house, Chipper keeps an eye out for another plunder by the grey squirrel.

The back yard is full of grey squirrels, lots of grey squirrels, ratty looking grey squirrels, chattering grey squirrels, aggressive, bullying, irritable, rambunctious grey squirrels, bird food stealing by the pound grey squirrels, hole digging in the garden grey squirrels, hole digging in the geranium pots and the begonia pots and petunia pots grey squirrels, and plump, oversized grey squirrels, bursting with what will undoubtedly be more and more hungry little grey squirrels.

In other words, feeding birds and chipmunks has led to an unintended consequence: grey squirrel population explosion. (If you ask me, they should all be deported. Canada would be a good destination--Monitoba or Saskatchewan or even the Northwest Territories for the biggest trouble makers--even if the grey squirrels were all born here and are legal residents or satisfy residency requirements. All you have to do is . . . ask for their papers.)

Politics aside, the explosion of grey squirrels has led to even more competition for food.

. . . And to a new problem for Chipper.

A stalker.

After feeding Chipper the usual allotment of peanuts, I noticed off in the distance that a grey squirrel was surveilling my activities. As Chipper plunked a peanut in his mouth and scurried around the woodpile looking for a place to hide his prized possession, the grey squirrel came even closer, cautiously at first, but with an evil glint in its eyes. Then, when Chipper wasn’t looking, the grey squirrel started rooting around between the logs and bark and rotting leaves, attempting to steal the peanut. It succeeded.

That wasn’t all.

Remember that in a confrontation with other critters the chipmunk sadly ends up the loser in just about all cases. That unfortunate fact of life proved again true as the grey squirrel chased him off his own territory. Poor Chipper retreated to his burrow along the neighbor’s garage and probably despaired over the loss of the peanut and the bullying he had rudely received.

So I did what I usually do—namely to interfere in the natural order of things. I took a couple peanuts and shoved them by hand into the entrance of Chipper’s burrow, far enough to extend beyond the reach of the grey squirrel. Then I gave the squirrel the evil eye and demanded that it “hit the road.” Reluctantly, it retreated to the nearby aspen, its tail waving furiously, as if to taunt me for interfering in the natural order of things.

Of all the things for chipmunks to worry about: Who would’ve thought it would also include stalkers?

More Spring Activity, More Return Visitors

Rose stays close to the back deck, with its many escape routes and easy access to water and to me. She will stare me down until I offer her a snack. Then she will demand more. Then she will disappear. Not even a thank you. Chipmunks don't always have the best manners.

A male goldfinch stops by the juniper tree to show off. His much drabber mate waits on a nearby branch, fully resigned to the fact that you have to give show-offs their moment or they will sulk for hours.

Yesterday, when I came home, Chip-Chip raced down the sidewalk and nearly tackled me, demanding some fresh peanuts.

Then Rose showed her aggressive side, chirping for attention, as I baited her to come ever nearer before giving up my supply of peanuts. By the end of summer, these chipmunks may be so tame that they will be lounging on a chair with me as I watch Boston Legal. And they will probably be demanding snacks by the bowlful. If, however, they demand that I change the channel to Meerkat Manor, well, that's pushing things a bit too far.

Chipmunks can be demanding, but you have to know where to draw the line.

* * *

Still no sign of Chipper. It's been a few days now, and I'm not certain what's going on with him. Let's hope he's just nursing a cold or a stomach ache--maybe from too many peanuts.

There have been signs of other critters, though. I found another robin's nest in the arborvitae next to the front steps, coincidentally just above Chip-Chip's home. The robin's nest is so low that I'll be able to photograph it by just standing on the top step. (Stay tuned for more photos.)

Other birds have returned as well. A brilliant goldfinch stopped by the back feeder, along with his paler female partner.

Most exciting, a pair of grey catbirds returned this year and began building their nest in the kiwi vines. Last year, a storm pretty much destroyed their nest. I'm hoping they do better this year.

A sort of mockingbird, the catbird possesses the most exotic, lyrical song of any bird I've ever heard.

I'll bet even Chip-Chip enjoys listening to it.

Waiting on the Front Step

Now that the weather has finally warmed here in Minnesota--knock on wood--Chip-Chip commonly waits on the front step for me to come home.

Rolling down my car window, I called out "Chip-Chip," and he seemed to get excited, standing up on his hind haunches to get a better look. I parked in the garage and reached for the peanuts. Approaching the front step, now less cautiously than in the past, I reassured Chip-Chip of who I was by talking to him. I'm not sure, but chipmunks are either familiar with my voice or just curious about the strange noise coming from a dorky looking human being.

At any rate, I dropped a few peanuts. After evaluating my intentions, he crawled down the step and stuffed one in his pouch and then, as a treat, ate the second one. Having fed my little critter friend, I began walking back down the sidewalk toward the side door. Much to my surprise, Chip-Chip followed--or at least he ran parallel to my path. What more did he expect?

So I stopped and chatted with him a bit more, checking the neighborhood to make sure neighbors or passersby didn't think I was losing touch with reality. Chip-Chip maybe wonders that himself.

A few moments later I went into the house.

Then a thought occurred to me: Chip-Chip may now be expecting his late afternoon meal every time he sees my car pull into the driveway.

And that led to another thought: Chipmunks can put a lot of pressure on a person.

More Chipmunk Factoids

Chip-Chip can beat Chipper in a sprint, but Chipper has better maneuverability around the woodpile.

Keen veteran aficionados of the critter world may find nothing new in my listed observations, but they may come as something of a surprise for the novice critter observers, to wit:

Did you know that chipmunks can chew through cement foundation blocks?

They don’t just burrow beneath foundations or alongside them. They can actually exploit a crack or a gap and tunnel right on through it. You’d think they’d wear their teeth out, or at least need crowns at some point. Apparently not. And this dental achievement is just one of the reasons people may not look so kindly upon chipmunks. (Now that I think of it, if chipmunks were vindictive, spiteful, or malicious, they could easily flatten the tires on my car or chew through the hoses or belts. I had best stay on their good side.)

Did you also know that chipmunks share a common and dangerous trait with rabbits?

It’s that, once committed, they’ll both race across a street, regardless of oncoming traffic, whereas grey squirrels are indecisive with or without traffic.

Did you know that chipmunks are actually so quick that on occasion they can zip by you practically invisible?

Okay, I made that last one up, but it’s almost true.

And did you know that chipmunks like a drop of lemon in their water?

Well, it could be true. Give them fresh water daily, even if the experts say otherwise. Chipmunks do like a drink of cool water, especially after gnawing through the shells of salted peanuts.

More factoids to come . . .

Chip-Chip, Chipper, and Rose

Chipper, the Potential Adversary.

Yesterday, as I was about to get in the truck and run out for some Chinese take-out, Chip-Chip jumped up into the wheel well and disappeared into the bowels of the engine. Worried that he’d get in the fan belt or diced by the radiator fan, I popped the hood and searched for his whereabouts. I didn’t find Chip-Chip, but I did find a half-eaten peanut and some old sunflower seed shells scattered on the engine mounts and on top the air filter cover.

Somewhat satisfied that he’d returned to the garage or garden, I slowly backed out of the driveway. A lingering anxiety made me uncomfortable, however, as I wondered whether a litter critter stowaway was accompanying me down the street to the Chinese take-out place. (If he made it all the way there, I thought he’d deserve a serving of Moo Goo Gai Pan or Chicken with Cashew Nuts—if nothing else, he should have liked the cashews.)

After my supper of about 30 mixed vegetables and an ounce or so of meats, I relaxed on the back deck and soon discovered that Chip-Chip was alive and well—and that he had a new friend. Yes, the total chipmunk population has now increased to three, and the new one, though a little skinny and something of a runt, is probably the tamest one so far. When I called to it, the little critter popped out of a hole, looked at me for a while, and then sat up on a chunk of wood. I dropped a peanut in front of my new acquaintance; it stuffed the peanut whole into its mouth and disappeared again.

This might be a good time for some factoids about chipmunks: Unlike most other wild critters, chipmunks are actually drawn by the human voice. I don’t know why, but they are. Though they are semi-tame, chipmunks are also extremely skitterish. If you turn your head too fast or cough or say “dang” too loudly, they can go from zero to sixty in approximately a quarter of a second. On hard surfaces, in fact, they can spin out like a NASCAR driver, showing off for the crowd in the stands. They can escape most situations, having the uncanny ability to disappear into an opening no larger than a Kennedy half dollar. Chipmunks are also hard to predict. Sometimes, they’re around most of the day. Then they’re not around at all. Sometimes, their routine varies. You practically have to request a schedule to know when they’re going to show up next. Which leads to the last factoid: Chipmunks don’t provide schedules.

The third chipmunk appeared again, perching on the edge of a cedar pot that held a newly planted rose. As I watched it root around in the peat moss, I noticed that it had a white patch on its hind leg. This chipmunk, this third chipmunk, was easy to identify, and as I continued to watch it, I started to wonder what to call it. Patches came to mind. But then again it had only one patch. I dismissed the idea, not wanting to be factually incorrect. Patches, I mean the third chipmunk, wouldn’t like that. So what about Patch? No, I didn’t like that name, either.

As good names eluded my imagination, the third chipmunk stretched to reach a thorn on the rose cane and promptly bit it off and ate it. Strange, I thought, a chipmunk that likes to eat thorns. Then it stretched up high and nibbled at a bud, its stomach clearly showing. I now knew that the third chipmunk was a girl and that its name would be tied to its somewhat odd cravings.

I named it Rose.

Meanwhile, Chip-Chip, maybe sensing my focus on my newfound chippy friend, had wandered off in the day lilies and didn’t return. Or maybe he wanted a break from Rose. Breaks are good, even where chipmunks are concerned.

Later, Chipper finally came out from under the neighbor’s garage and collected the peanuts I had left for him. And that made me wonder about something else: Would Chipper meet Rose? Would Chip-Chip become jealous? Was there a brawl in the making? Would Rose’s loyalties be strong and steadfast? Or would she prove to be, let’s say, as fickle as her cravings for . . . well . . . for rose thorns?

As for Chip-Chip, I hoped that he wasn’t sleeping in the truck.

Chip-Chip's Possible Relative, Friend, Foe, or Casual Acquaintance

Chipper atop the woodpile in the evening sun.

Last night at around 8:00 p.m., I started to get acquainted with the second chipmunk, the one that lives under the neighbor's garage to the north.

I noticed almost immediately that he has a few traits in common with Chip-Chip. First, he is wary but curious, hunkering down close to his burrow hole in case a quick escape is called for; yet his curiosity compels him to stay above ground, watching me and trying to figure out my intentions. Second, he can be persuaded to be more friendly by the placement of a few fresh peanuts. Third, he's a cute little fella, especially when propped up on his hind legs to get a better view over the new iris and daylily blades.

He is a bit larger, and his stripes are more pronounced. My guess is that he could be older than Chip-Chip. Maybe an older cousin, twice removed, on his mother's side. Maybe an uncle. Or an aunt. It's difficult to say without documentation.

There's also a big difference between the two chipmunks. The second one likes to stay out late at night. I watched him until twilight, or roughly 9:00 p.m., which is not supposed to happen with chipmunks. They're supposed to take care of the day's business early in the morning and finish up by early afternoon. This one, however, likes the night life. What a nonconformist. But such activities are also consistent with what I've said earlier about chipmunks: They're dare devils.

Finally, since it's awkward to refer to the second chipmunk as the second chipmunk, I've decided to call him Chipper. A woodpile is nearby, so the name sort of makes sense. Anyway, it's better than calling him Bark or Log or Woody or Woodpile or Floyd . . .

. . . I hope an owl doesn't get him.