Chipmunk-Dumping and the Suburban Wild Kingdom

We had the Stonewall block party on Saturday, so I got a double-dose of neighborhood news and gossip.

is part of our block, and a neighbor who lives next to the park told me he came across a guy in the park who has his own catch-and-release wildlife program underway. The guy lives a few blocks away and apparently has a surplus of chipmunks near his house. (Who doesn't?) He doesn't want to harm them, so he's been catching them, then releasing them in Hoopers Hollow, near our homes.

When my neighbor caught him in the act, the guy said the three rodents he was releasing were numbers 50, 51 and 52. So, he's caught and released 52 chipmunks in Hoopers Hollow. It would be cool if he could start putting little collars on them, to see if they have a homing instinct. Maybe he doesn't realize it, but he's released the same half-dozen chipmunks eight or nine times.

But this expulsion of chipmunks to the park might explain a lot of things.

Two of my neighbors, sitting in their family room, recently watched a steady stream of chipmunk commuters going back and forth across their deck. The chipmunks were heading for the bird feeder located at the house to the north, picking up seed on the ground left by sloppy birds, who toss their beaks while they're eating, the way fashion models toss their hair.

After speeding across their deck, my neighbors said the chipmunks headed south toward my house, where they have a rodent subway system of holes and tunnels which I estimate is about 80 miles long. Me and the lawnmower at some point are going to disappear into a chipmunk sink hole. That's the reason I mow as little as possible. Really.

Flying Chipmunk-Terminator

The immigrant chipmunks may also explain the red-tailed hawk who has taken a liking to our neighborhood. I've only seen it from a distance, but those who have seen it up close say the hawk has a four-foot wingspan.

The hawk has been trying to interdict the flow of chipmunks as they make their way along the birdseed trail. Two different sets of neighbors have had the same experience: sitting out on a screened-in porch or in the backyard in lawn chairs, looking up to see the hawk on a silent, face-high final approach.

The hawk's probably targeting a traveling chipmunk in these situations, but when the people notice him and get agitated, he notices them, aborts his attack, and pulls up. Twice the hawk has landed on the roof of a porch and a gazebo, right behind the people. Maybe the hawk's not after chipmunks. Maybe it's just got a sense of humor and enjoys the expression on people's faces.

A Payload of Squirrel

A woman at the block party told me a different hawk story. She was driving along Chicago Avenue and saw something in the road ahead. She wasn't sure what it was. A car coming from the other direction also stopped. Eventually, she could see it was a hawk, flapping its wings in the middle of the road. After some effort, it got airborne, passing right over her windshield, with a big fat squirrel dangling from its talons.

The hawk isn't the only bird of prey hanging out in the neighborhood. When the second shift starts up, a large owl goes to work. I haven't seen it, but I've been told that it landed on the sidewalk and was a couple of feet high.

Peace, Brother Chipmunks

I like chipmunks. I wake up really early, so even their high-pitched dawn chirping outside the bedroom window is no big deal. For me, they're just wild hamsters, making a successful living in the suburbs.

On a winter evening years ago, I woke up suddenly on the couch and kicked my daughter's hamster across the family room, bouncing it off the wall, after it had escaped its cage and and woke me up by climbing under the cuff of my pants leg, seeking warmth and company.

I've always felt bad about that. So I feel an obligation to do no harm to members of the chipmunk-hamster kingdom—so long as they stay outside. If a chipmunk makes it into the family room, all bets are off.