They're baaaack!

Well, faithful readers, you may remember my mentioning our quintet of chipmunks--Scrappy, Crimp, Silky, Daryl, and Daryl. They have been amusing us by consuming vast quantities of bird food, chasing each other around the yard, and generally being destructive, charming, pains in the ass all spring and summer.

However, though the name came about for entirely different reasons, Ro and I tend to take the phrase "Caer Cinniunint Wildlife Refuge" to heart, so we put up with the destruction and try to get the highest amusement value out of the little things. We may bemoan the lack of neighborhood cats occasionally, but by and large our instinct is to let things be, and maybe put up a "Caution--Chipmunk Crossing" sign.

Sometime during Pennsic, the chipmunks disappeared and mole evidence became visible ALL OVER THE LAWN (it's sort of fun watching Morguhn use the cars to try to pack the sod back down, but I digress). Chipmunks and moles tend to give each other a wide berth, so we began to suspect that the chipmunks had either moved (not likely) or, well, ceased to be. Given the fact that Morguhn, despite evidence it nearly killed TAG, continues to buy D-Con, and they were suddenly gone after the week he spent home alone, we began to suspect we had a murderer in our bed. Oh, horrors. Suddenly I had images in my head of my beloved dropping little cannisters of gas down the openings of the burrows as they took their little showers. Well, Wednesday night I made the comment that trading chipmunks for moles was a bad thing. He agreed. Then, later when he went out to mow, he took great pains to not hurt the baby bunny (I have to say, I have never, ever, seen anything so cute in my life. The cuteness, it burns!), so I felt somewhat bad at my suspicions, but then I remembered his stories of youthful wildlife destruction and could not quite put it all to rest.

Then, last night as I was making dinner I heard a joyful yelp out of Rowan. "Chipmunks!" I ran to the dining room window. I only saw two, she swears there were three. Doesn't matter. Apparently it was only necessary to say aloud "I miss the chipmunks" for the God of All Chipmunks to return them to us. Our babies are home, the cat torture device has been reinstalled (read: shallow bowl of bird seed placed against the glass of the kitchen window where the cats like to perch), and all is right with the world.

"I'm Chip...
I'm Dale...
We're just a couple of crazy rascals
Out to have some fun.
When Chip and Dale
Start cooking up some trouble
You can bet it gets well done.

Folks all say
We are the cutest two...
To tell the truth
I think so too!
I'm Chip...
I'm Dale..."