George is back -- a bit of spring fluff

George is back! It must be spring.


A bit of background. We have a small community of chipmunks living behind our house, under the porch; they used to climb on our woodpile, till I re-screened and repainted the porch and moved the wood in there, out of the rain and snow, and also out of the reach of the chipmunks. When I moved the wood I found the various food stashes, etc., no doubt to their chagrin.


Anyway, they hibernate here in the old Northwest Territory, so when one appears the earth must have moved officially moved into the vernal position. And I can almost put the snow stuff away.


But why “George”? Years ago my then-elementary school daughter called me to the basement, one early spring day, because she heard a strange scratching sound. After investigation, I traced it to the dryer vent. I pulled it loose and a chipmunk dashed out. We chased him round the basement, me carrying a small bucket, daughter alternately yelling at the ‘munk and keeping him from disappearing into the jetsam that lined the walls. He dashed up the stairs and we finally cornered him in the kitchen. (Thank goodness the mom-person wasn’t home). I plunked the bucket over him, slid a dinner plate under it (again, the mom was elsewhere) and took him outside, where we let him go.


A bit of exploration showed that the outside flap over the dryer vent had come loose, and not unreasonably the chipmunk had wandered in seeking warmth and maybe food, then slid down the vent tube, to his unpleasant surprise. So I fixed the vent. And no more sudden basement appearances.


But why “George”? Because during the heat of the chase I remembered an old cartoon from my childhood, “George of the Jungle” so we naturally (?) named him “George of the Dryer.” And because on warm days a chipmunk, probably the dominant male, would stand atop the woodpile, chirping defiantly at the world, sort of insanely inviting any passing hawk or dog to pay a savage visit. Which brought to mind, “The Madness of King George.” So, again, George, albeit "George of the Woodpile." And, since they are indistinguishable to the human eye, though, no doubt, distinct to each other, it seems simplest to call them all George. By now it's of course many generations since the dryer episode, so that unless they sit around nights and tell stories of the old days, none of them recall that tragic day.


Anyway, welcome back George. As regular and welcome as the Easter Bunny, albeit without chocolate eggs.