Day 317: I make no secret of my dislike of squirrels. No homeowner who has ever discovered chewed wiring or damaged shingles would claim to be a fan. No one who has been kept awake nights by scurrying and gnawing noises in the attic would say they enjoyed their company. Their gluttony for birdseed is insatiable, and they can surmount any obstacle from greased poles to hooded feeders to obtain it. Squirrels...the Douglas squirrel of the Pacific Northwest in particular...are obnoxious, destructive little varmints (a word, incidentally, which derives from the term "vermin," and appropriately so).
I first noticed this little fellow a few weeks ago and, not being expert in mammalian critters, I dismissed him as a different breed of squirrel until his unsquirrelly behaviour made me think twice about my cursory identification. For one thing, he didn't raid the bird feeders. He only collected what seeds he could find on the ground, those spilled out by the careless Jays. Instead of bullying the Juncoes and finches, he sat back until they vacated the area to make his forays. Day by day, he grew less cautious around me until I was finally able to make a field-guide portrait. Although I am not fully confident of my analysis, I believe this is Townsend's Chipmunk, one of the most common "chips" in western Washington, but a new species for my yard.
My little friend is very mannerly. He sits with his treat in hand, demurely nibbling black-oil sunflower seeds or bits of corn, one wary eye cocked my direction. He (and I surprise myself in saying this) is a textbook example of "adorable." To date, his only crime...a misdemeanor...is that he has been burying his winter stash in the begonia pot on the front porch. I'd been wondering if I'd potted the tuber in recycled soil when sunflower seedlings came up between the leaves. It wasn't until I found a pile of shells on the step that I caught on.
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