Spring Cleaning

Today witnessed two developments in the neighborhood of chipmunks.

First, the current population seems to have exploded, doubling from earlier in the week as Chip-Chip now has a neighbor to the north. I wonder whether they've met, which could mean chipmunk conflict (chipmunks have to fight with each other because chipmunks are about the only thing other chipmunks can beat up). It could also mean an even bigger impending spike in the chipmunk population later this spring. The conflict part may still come later as they bicker about cleaning out the den and raising the pups, duties, according to research, left entirely up to the mother. (What is a baby chipmunk called anyway? I'll get back to that. I hope it's not called a chip off the old block.) In either event, I'll have to figure out a name for the northside interloper. One thing is for sure. He's a sneaky little fella, surveilling me from a hole dug along the neighbor's garage foundation well before I had the opportunity to surveil him, or her, as the case may be. Which brings up another question: Is there a way to tell the difference between a male and a female chipmunk without causing offense? (The answer is no. Male and female chipmunks look alike. But they know the difference.)

The second development helps explain why last year's population took a severe turn for the worse. Already known for their incessant curiosity, chipmunks--at least Chip-Chip--apparently come equipped with a bit of the dare devil in them. To wit: While I was closing the garage door, Chip-Chip scurried in (not out) and made it with just a moment to spare. He flew in, his little legs barely touching the ground--as if racing with the several hundred pound aluminum door as it rattled down the rails to settle on the concrete floor. It sort of makes you wonder whether storing sunflower seeds all day gets so tedious, even to a chipmunk, that they have to test themselves, seek thrills, so to speak, to get the old juices flowing--sort of like teenagers who have to race their dads' cars or get into fights or knock themselves loopy with a charged beverage, although I suspect in their cases it's more a matter of showing off. Chipmunks, I suspect, seek thrills because it's built into their DNA. Otherwise, given their lives, chipmunks would be nervous wrecks. They'd need therapy, and that gets expensive.

And what does any of that have to do with spring cleaning? You might say I couldn't think of a better title . . .