Invasion

Wintertime up here is deliciously quiet and serene. Birds will eat from our hands, snowshoe hares appear out of nowhere, and one catches fleeting glimpses of deer passing through the woods. A flying squirrel visits the "treat tree" that the kids and I decorate on the deck, using peanut-butter coated pine cones and popcorn balls.
So when spring comes, and all the little critters creep out of hibernation, it's always uplifting. Especially the chipmunks. Their timorous wee faces peer around the corners, tiny crabbed paws reaching up the doorframe as they see their reflections in the glass. This spring I saw one chipmunk bounding into the same spot over and over; investigation revealed a perfect hobbit-hole disappearing under the wild roses. I knew she would have a family in there, and decided that this would be the summer to tame the chipmunks.

I began the project some days ago. My first strategy was to simply wait until I saw the creatures on the deck, then slip out and place some peanuts in an open spot, so they'd see that I was The Provider of Nuts. I was never sure if the message was getting across, since the cat usually raced out the door as well, with intentions quite the opposite of mine.
Yesterday I watched, peanuts in pocket, as one bold chipmunk scrabbled around the patio door. He was a quick one - and probably one of the new youth of the season. He seemed to be everywhere at once! It was then revealed that there were in fact several young chipmunks scampering about the deck... it was a perfect opportunity! And Mike said "Tristan, go get the trap. We've gotta do something about these chipmunks! Stop feeding them!"
But I couldn't resist. Tristan geared up the live trap, and I sat down in the sun and broke up some peanuts into my hand. One little rodent in particular was very brave, and hungry, and as soon as I was still he started to creep forward. Before long he boldly snatched a peanut bit and shot away to nibble it in safety. He was soon back, and within half and hour he was confident enough to climb onto my lap and sit in my hand, shoving the morsels into his cheeks.

This was fine progress. I envisioned a passel of devoted chipmunks greeting me at the door, sitting on my shoulders as I weeded the flowerbeds, following me around like tiny clever dogs. I went about my day, hanging laundry, potting plants, digging holes...
Then Tristan caught one. In the live trap. This is the thing with humane traps - sure, you don't kill the prey, but what are ya gonna do with it? Two options - let it go, or kill it yourself. Preferrably without getting the live trap bloody. There was the little guy, racing wildly around inside the wire box, terrified. I instructed Tristan to take it to daddy. Daddy instructed Tristan to put it in a different cage, and he'd "relocate" it after work. So the kids dug our old birdcage out of storage, and proceeded to make Chippy comfy.
Chippy decided he was not comfy, and deftly leaped to the top of the cage, squeezed through an impossibly tiny hole, and escaped. Into our house. The cat was delighted.

Thus began the Chipmunk Rodeo. It came to involve 1 horrified chipmunk, 1 retarded cat, two children, two grown men, and one bemused spectator. Also several pieces of furniture, a butterfly net, and various magazines.
Round One: Chippy camps out under the couch. Cat guards couch. Chippy makes a break for the safety of the piano. Cat guards piano. Repeat ad naseum.
Round Two: Kids attempt poking Chippy to chase him out the open door. Cat impedes progress by racing about, getting poked and meowing loudly. Everyone argues about where Chippy actually is.
Round Three: Hubby solves the mystery of Chippy's whereabouts by pulling out the couch. Chippy dashes behind desk. Hubby pulls out desk. Chippy hides behind curtains. Hubby ties up curtains. We skip intermission and proceed directly to Round Four
in which Chippy leads the entire family in a wild parade throughout the house. Avoiding both open doors, of course. Parade runs as follows:
Chippy. Sometimes emitting a series of angry chirps.
Cat. Who could've caught Chippy multiple times, but prefers to trot with her nose a few inches above her prey. Succeeding merely in getting stepped on.
Hubby. Wielding green plastic butterfly net.
Two kids. Giggling like mad.
Tim. Our current building project employee - also family friend, fishing and hunting and mechanic pal for Hubby. Also giggling like mad.
Me.
And every time we get Chippy cornered, Tim is all ready to shoo him out the door with a magazine, until he makes a break for it and rushes over Tim's foot, which provokes a high-pitched squeal and an interesting little dance. The period of time spent in Tristan's bedroom was a highlight - Chippy found many good hiding places and tunnels amongst the Lego ships, sleeping bags, books and clothing strewn about. Cat was highly motivated by this time - to get a closer look. Everyone was shouting and laughing and I was aware, once again, that people acheive an interesting state of eccentricity when trapped on a mountain with limited influence from civilization.

In the end, Chippy made it out the door and gasped with relief that he was still alive and not in Chipmunk Hell as he'd suspected. We all fell about, laughing and reliving the episode. The live trap is put away, and I'm doubting I'll ever tame that particular chipmunk.

It goes to show you, though, how quickly our fickle emotions can turn. One minute a chipmunk is cute, then an annoyance, then funny... when I see a little critter sitting up, nibbling dandylion seeds it's adorable - when it's digging up my nasturtium seeds I'm ready to get out the .22.
Speaking of which, I think I'll go put netting over the strawberries!