You’ve heard of muskrat love; How about chipmunk trust? Part 1. May 03, 2012 As our civilization advances and our institutions grow with interest in only perpetuating themselves, many of our values have been lost. In some cases we don’t even know what those values are. We know a word, but cannot put meaning to the word. For instance “trust” is but one such word. Trust, it seems to be such a meaningless word anymore. People break a trust, say I’m sorry and believe they should be forgiven. Husbands and wives break marriage trusts in so-called separations. Others wander on a breakup. Then they easily break the trust again, using sorry as a mechanism to continually break trusts. Some don’t even say they’re sorry. Usually they are sorry they got caught. They’re not sorry for abusing the trust they were given. They make the person whose trust they broke feel guilty for not trusting. I think I have always had a strong sense of the meaning of trust. That same trust is required in relationships with animals. Those abusing people, like dogs and cats are breaking a trust the animal has for us. For me it was a little chipmunk that taught me the depth and importance of trust. I fed the squirrels in the neighborhood I used to live in. They were very friendly, and would even come to me while I sat on the porch. If I was talking to my neighbor in the driveway, they would come within a foot or so wanting a handout. Seeing my car coming home from work, several lots away from my yard, they would run to get to my house. Napping on my couch in the afternoons, I would hear a knock at the door. I’d get up to answer it. Getting to the door I would see no one there. I’d get closer to see if they were on the other side of the porch I could not see from the direction I approached. That’s when I’d notice the squirrel standing their looking up in his monk like stance, hands folded in front of them as if in prayer. I’d open the door slightly but gently and toss a couple of peanuts out to him. Then one day I noticed a chipmunk! She was very skittish as the squirrels were in the beginning. That did not change as it had with the squirrels. She was standoffish, very cautious for a very long time. I began by throwing peanuts when I saw her around the driveway. I sat on my porch and threw them in her direction, throwing them in a gentle arch so as not to frighten her. Even so, sometimes the peanuts would break in a mini explosion. It took months, but over time she came closer and closer. I had to be very careful not to move too abruptly so as not to spook her.

After about six months I had her climbing onto my foot, taking peanuts I had put on my shoes. Eventually I put them behind my shoelaces and she would take them from there. Then fall came and deep fall when the chipmunks hibernate. She was gone late fall and all winter.

Chipmunk Trust

The connection

Chipmunk trust, Part 2 May 05, 2012 Reacquainted after a winter hibernation I was so happy when I saw the chipmunk tracks in the lightly dusted late March snow. She was out getting peanuts from the feeder I had on the porch for the squirrels. When the weather got comfortable enough to sit on the porch, we started our relationship again. Not from the beginning, but a little farther back than we had ended the last year. Again I spent hours sitting there, carefully throwing peanuts gently, coaxing her when she appeared. Skittish at first, progress was much faster as we renewed our friendship. She came to the stairs, venturing up the stairs finding peanuts leading her to the top. One time as I leaned back on my hands waiting for her, she climbed to the landing, seeming to notice my finger tips looked like peanuts. She started with my thumb and took a little nibble. It was gentle, no pain involved. Then she went to the next finger and took a little taste ever so gently. Then to the next and the

next taking a little bite with the greatest of care. When she got to the pinky, I said ouch just out of principle. Like a cartoon chipmunk she scurried off. But, she came back, and progress was much faster. She never tested, or tasted my fingers again. By summer she was climbing the stairs and eating the peanuts while I sat there. I had to remain very still so as not to appear aggressive.

Checking the Fingers

Curious but cautious

Again putting the peanuts on my shoe and in my shoe laces, she sat on my foot taking them out, filling her cheeks and scurrying off to store them. Then she climbed my leg to my knees. She ventured further onto my thighs as I sat there. From the peanuts on my shoes, she scaled my leg and began sitting in my lap eating peanuts. Then I placed my hands in my lap with peanuts placed between my finger and she would come into my hand and sit, filling her little cheeks, distorting her cute little face with two or three peanuts. Chipmunk trust, part 3 May 07, 2012 Respecting the trust She gave me the opportunity to watch my chipmunk friend from so very close. Her little heart beating so rapidly, her soft little feet wandering in my hand brought a sense of pleasure. Then I went a step further and filled my hands with sunflower seeds. When she got to the bottom, I could feel her little tongue against the skin of my hand, lapping up the seeds. It was such a wonderful feeling. I would slowly lower my chin to get a better view of her, but not cause her any distress. I could watch this little creature, in my hand, but eighteen inches from my eyes, filling her little cheeks with the sunflower seeds. Now she would run steady trips from her hole on the other side of my driveway which was in my neighbor’s lawn, back and forth to my hand, storing the food for the winter.

It was such a special feeling to have this relationship with this little creature. She sat in my hand, her little heart pumping a million times a minute. Not because she was afraid, but because her body required it. Back and forth she went, without hesitation, no fear of me.

Coy Little Chipmunk

Sharing the company

During cooler times if I had a jacket on, I would have the peanuts in my pocket to re-supply as she went to her hole to store what she had collected. She would go into the pockets, where I could have easily captured her, and fill her cheeks for her next run home. There was a temptation calling to me though, wanting to wrap my fingers around that cute little body. I wanted to close my hand gently and feel her little heart beating. Then I thought how traumatic that would be for that little soul to see my giant fingers closing in. Then feel them around her body. The trust would be broken and we likely would never be able to continue our relationship. What a loss that would be to me and how terrible would I feel frightening my friend so and destroying the relationship it took more than a year to develop. That is when I understood the gravity and meaning of trust. To satisfy my own longing I would have to break the trust of my little friend. It was not worth it to disappoint and lose such a friend. I came to realized, trust required self-sacrifice! Not always satisfying ones own gratification, but denying oneself for the sake of others. Now it’s up to you to think about how this relates to your life today. To your personal, professional and political lives!

Chipmunk trust, part 4 May 11, 2012 Epilogue: Chipmunk generations, Mother’s Day One fall, several years later in September, I sat on my porch step watching my chipmunk friend across the double driveway. She peaked out of her hole, looking around, somewhat forlorn. I attributed her melancholia to the passing of summer weather approaching the time she would enter her home to pass the winter. She stood tall, or as tall as a chipmunk can, and surveyed the area. As well as a chipmunk can from five inches off the ground.

Then I saw a little one come out of the hole. Snuggling up to her mother, schmoozing with great affection, the child showed such affection. It was so special and touching sharing their moment. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. My heart leapt with the sight. It was a spectacle we very seldom get to see. What happened next was another such sight. The momma did not snuggle back. She remained standing tall and strong, not succumbing to the warmth being shown her. She appeared cold and aloof to the advances of her child. Then she reared back her tiny short arm and cuffed her little child in the side of his head. It was shocking! My heart went from the warmth and pleasant feelings of the child snuggling the mother to the sadness of her reaction. How could she do this? My heart sank into my stomach, giving me a sick feeling. Then I saw a second one emerge from the hole and felt even worse. I then realized what had happened. It was nature. It was time for them to leave home and strike out on their own. They were becoming adults and it was time for them to enter the world by themselves. It made me sad, but it was true, nature’s way.

The next day I saw the two of them, living under my small cement porch. I frightened them when going in our out of the house. Yet they appeared often, as they had but a month or so to collect their stores for the winter. It was a daunting task. Unknowingly, they had it easy. I put out plenty of peanuts and sunflower seeds for them so they had easy access for their huge chore. After that winter hibernation, I never saw the mother again. The four years we spent together may have been her life span. I managed to get one of the little ones to crawl into my hand and eat. It took awhile, but not as long as it did with mom. Then I notice one day, he pooped in my hand and another time he peed. The occurrences increased. Mom would never do such a thing. I guess it was the disrespect the entitlement mentality breeds. Still I treasure my time and memories of her and her children. It is amazing the lessons we can learn from animals and how nature allows them to teach us.