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.
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.
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