"This True Story Was First Told Around a
Campfire"
TRUE CAMPFIRE STORY #9
TALE OF THE ANGRY CHIPMUNK
Many, many years ago, when children believed in fairies, and baseball
was a
sport, and football was just fun, and we didn't know what steroids
were, Roger and I would search the greater Sierras for that most
elusive
object; the BIG fish.
We heard the stories and headed for the latest rumors of big fish. One
of these
quests took us to Davis Lake, in the Feather River Basin. We explored
the
lake's back roads, searching for a private spot that we always
preferred, but
reluctantly ended up in a US Forest Campground; a rare and almost
unique
experience for these seekers of nature's gifts.
We set up camp, got the aluminum boat into the water and stealthily
began our
quest for big fish. Having little luck, we turned to our quest for good
food;
this we accomplished with little effort.
Fishing, usually being a profitable venture in the early mornings or
early
evenings, left us with much time during midday to explore other
leisures. One
of these pastimes was football; not real football, but a plastic
football on a
plastic board, with plastic dice, and team cards that gave us the
results upon
each throw of the dice. We had worked this game and our competition
into a
frenzy and developed leagues in both the Pro and College ranks.
Now, at Davis Lake, on a heavy US Forest picnic table, we began a
marathon of
football competition; only missing the cheerleaders to heighten the
drama. As
we played our games, we snacked on nuts, chips, and sunflower seeds,
and then
we noticed this most friendly chipmunk. Although he was cautious and
often
darted into nearby holes in the ground, he came closer and closer,
seemingly
curious about our fanatical concentration on these plastic objects
between us.
Loving nature and wildlife, we threw some nuts and chips into our new
friend’s
direction. Being a very smart chipmunk, he would gather up as many of
these
morsels as his little cheeks could hold, run down a nearby hole, and
return
with his skinny face ready to be filled again.
He must have realized that these scraps thrown towards him had a
source, and he
was soon on the table, examining the jars, bags, and bowls of bounty.
For three
days, he never left our side, except to stash away his prizes, or chase
away
other chipmunks that wanted to partake in the bounty. He would sit on
our
shoulders, as if to advise us on the best choice for each play. He
would go
down to our plastic football field and move out little plastic football
in the
direction he thought was most appropriate. If we pushed him aside, he
would
soundly berate us in his chattery little voice. We held him; we petted
him, and
gave him free reign to explore all. He ate out of our plates, our
bowls, and
our bags; and drank from our cups.
Now, dear reader, you might question why the title of this tale is 'The
Angry
Chipmunk', when this little fellow seemed to be the most friendly
chipmunk.
Well, it was the tests of his trust that we presented him with that
decided
upon the title. I was wearing a US Army fatigue shirt with large
buttoned
pockets; inside my left pocket I kept a large supply of sunflower
seeds. Our
little friend, being aware of this stash, decided to explore the inside
of my
pocket. He crawled down my shoulder and went into the pocket; I closed
it and
buttoned it up. Surprisingly, he didn't seem to panic, but he went
about his
business of filling his cheeks. Then, in an obviously agitated voice,
he
demanded his release. I undid the button and he scurried out onto the
table. He
looked at me, puffy cheeks and all, and screamed at me for 2 or 3
minutes; I
felt as if he was shaking a finger at me. Having had his say, he rushed
down
one of his nearby holes, and shortly returned with his skinny face.
Another test for our little friend was the last sunflower seed in the
long
skinny bag. We left just one seed at the bottom of this 8" x 2" bag,
and opened it up so it was like a little tunnel. Our little chattery
friend
decided that he needed that one last sunflower seed and proceeded to
squeeze
his way into the bag. Once he was sufficiently inside, I picked up the
bag and
closed off the opening. Well, this time he seemed to panic; he squirmed
and
clawed and struggled to get free. Although I only held him captive for
a few
seconds, once I released him, he sat on the table, yelling at us for
minutes;
he was angry!
But, a most amazing thing had occurred; the one sunflower seed that had
been in
the bottom of the bag was now gone! During his panic he never forgot
his goal;
get the sunflower seed.
We could all learn something from our little friendly-angry chipmunk;
make
friends, stand up for your rights, but always remember your goal. It
could come
in handy during a cold winter!
Note: A year or two after this adventure, we returned to the same
camping spot;
we never found our little friend, but he is often mentioned when Roger
and I
sit around a campfire.
Copyright
2004, Carport's True Stories
Reproduction for noncommercial uses only is acceptable
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