Me, My Garden and Stumpy the Chipmunk

The raised bed sits outside the kitchen window. It was a bit of an effort to build it with landscaping timbers and bag upon bag of soil. After a weekend of hard work it was ready for planting. It's a small raised bed, 8 foot long by 4 foot wide and sits right on the edge of a fence. Just perfect for a few extra seedlings that my mother had left over from her garden. With glee I planted the seedlings and watered them. It was a reach to get to the center for my old bones just don't seem to work as well; stretching and balancing myself on the timber as I worked. Finally the seedlings were in and all was well.  

The next morning I discovered a few of seedlings were up rooted and one was downright missing. A series of holes were dug about my garden. I knew the culprit immediately for "Stumpy" the tailless chipmunk was seen at the bird feeder prior.  The little bastard turned my garden into a chipmunk playground! This is war! 

I tried to replant the seedling but only one took. I then got seeds to plant in the bed. I planted planted beans, tomatoes and I had a packet of onions but I could reach the area to plant the seeds the thus those seeds are still sealed. Stumpy returned and started digging around my seeds. I would shoo him away and he would return. I'm not sure of the gender for chipmunk all look alike and sexing a chipmunk is not a priority at this point. So, I will call Stumpy a "he" for the sake of argument. 

The little bugger is destructive and yet creative at the same time. Small holes burrowed through the soil like a vast network of tunnels. I swear Stumpy is building a military grade bunker under there. He and his chipmunk troops are digging deep into the lose soil and erecting tiny bunkers strong enough to survive the next downpour. The troop if chipmunks work in tandem with look outs and chirps of warnings. I half expect to see tiny green helmets and pea size rifles slung across their fury backs as they dig into the garden's soil. One pops out and looks about before exposing himself to danger. He runs for the bird seed and gathers as much of the precious ammo in his fat, chubby cheeks as possible. Sometimes I wounder how he doesn't manage to not explode with a eruption of birdseed spewing from his jaw like Mount Saint Helen's erupting with unimaginable force. 

Stumpy come to the bird feeder to reload many times. He sits there and looks in the window at me as he shoved birdseed in his cheeks. It's as if he is taunting me. Or maybe he's just making sure I'm still alive to give him free food? Either way me and Stumpy save the battle for yet another day.