Easter Bunny

Sparky did a great job covering for me while I hit the 7 day snooze button. I just woke up to realize Easter is almost here. I have never really bought into all this Easter Bunny business. I see all the candy and baskets they sell at the grocery store. (I suppose I should be glad they don’t make little marshmallow chipmunks.) What is the deal with the Easter Bunny bringing eggs? Bunnies don’t lay eggs, they give live birth.  It is really amazing what folks can be tricked into believing.

My thoughts on the Easter Bunny have not been well received at the Woodpile. They prefer not to ask any questions about where their candy comes from. I decided to conduct a secret experiment. I set up one of those game cameras with the night vision. I want catch whoever at the Woodpile was masquerading as the Easter Bunny. Then I planned on exposing them.

Well, it is Easter morning, lets see which chipmunk or squirrel is the Easter Bunny. I am downloading the photos to my laptop … drum roll please … oh, no … It really does exist!

Easter Bunny filling a basket full of candy corn for Bushy’s kids.

Easter Bunny “A camera trap – no Easter basket for Chippy.”

Sophia, Sparky’s kid, searches the Woodpile for her basket.

“Wow, chocolate sunflower seeds and eggs, Yippie!”

“Ummmm … so tasty” 

Sparky Makes Some New Friends

Chippy asked me, Sparky, to cover his blog this week. The Woodpile is pretty deserted. The cold and rainy weather was just the excuse all my chipmunks friends needed to catch a few more zzzz’s of hibernation time. There wasn’t anything to do, everything was shutdown due to lack of customers. They even turned off the cable service and the wifi! How can anyone live like this? The only thing open was all you can eat buffet, and it was only serving cracked corn from an automatic dispenser.

While I was drowning my boredom eating very stale corn kernels, a bunch of English sparrows dropped by. Most humans consider them a nuisance species. Once you get to know them, they are pretty cool. It did take a bit of time to understand their British accent and odd use of certain words and phrases. It added to their charm.

They regaled me with stories about their ancestors. Their great, great, great grandparents grew up in 19^th century London. Conditions were terrible: overcrowding, contaminated water, and diseases just to name a few. They migrated to America aboard the great steamship liners and came through Ellis Island. They found wide open country sides, well stocked bird feeders, and nice clean nesting boxes. It was the American dream. Like many immigrants they were met with suspicion, prejudice, and fear. People chased them away from the feeders and kicked them out of the nesting boxes. A number them eventually took refuge at the Woodpile were they were treated with kindness, compassion, and respect.

I looked up from my meal to see I wasn’t alone anymore.

I made some new friends

Golfing

Now that spring has arrived, it is time to get back on the links for eighteen holes. Yes, I am talking about golf. Golf is a new sport for chipmunks in America. No commercial courses exist yet, so, we made our own here at the Woodpile. The fun part is digging the cups out – we are experts at this. We occasionally added a few to the human golf courses. The course did cause a few problems.  The mail-munk tried delivering  to a bunch of them thinking they were new burrows. We found them stuffed with junk mail advertisements. After about a week we finally clued him in.

Golf was actually invented by Scottish chipmunks in the fifteenth century but you won’t find that mentioned on Wikipedia. Humans keep deleting that fact every time we add it to the entry. The only place to buy chipmunk size clubs is from Scotland. Unfortunately with all the tariffs and trade wars, Scottish ‘munks are refusing to export them to the U.S. We had to get inventive. We found our tails make excellent drivers. Front and rear paws replace the “irons”, and the nose is a superb putter.

Finding golf balls isn’t a problem. Some important two legged politician with lots of secret service was playing at the country club across the lake last week. The first ten balls he hit off the tee landed in the Woodpile. (The Woodpile is 350 yards in the opposite direction of the green!) I am sure all you taxpayers are cringing about paying for all those lost balls. Not to worry, they weren’t the best quality balls. In fact they were the “made in China” ones you buy at the dollar store. You get ten for a buck.

As for the course itself, all of the current club members dislike mowing the lawn, so, we didn’t bother planting any grass. As you can imagine, chipmunk greens are measured in inches rather than yards. Last year, we had the traditional, flat course but found it wasn’t challenging enough. So we put some holes in the “hazards” like the Woodpile. Try “reading the greens” when you're putting over a bunch of uneven logs. Now that takes some real skill.

Making the Putt

Different members have different approaches to putting. Allow me to demonstrate with a few photos:

Sparky likes to get his nose to the wood for a  careful read.

Vinnie is busy calculating the speed, friction, angular momentum, etc 

using the laws of physics.

I personally preferred to just the “eyeball” the shot.

 

 

Chippy Jr., well he just likes to get in way of the shot 

and made a nuisance of himself like most teenagers.

Hazards

 

You thought sand bunkers were tough. Try getting your ball when 

it is wedged between two pieces of wood. "Can I get my paw underneath it?"

Only 6 inches to the hole but that fallen branch is in the way (upper left).

Fairway

Here is a nicely hit ball that landed in the middle of fairway. Not too many leaves around.

Vinnie is calculating the angle needed to get to the hole three feet up on the Woodpile.

Embarrassing

 

We caught Sparky napping on the 15^th hole. This photo has gone viral on social media.