Wednesday, June 17, 2009, 07:07
Violet and the Chipmunk
There I was Sunday morning, coming up from the barn after feeding the horses, minding my own business.
It turned hot and humid on Sunday, and already in the morning, I had sweat pouring down my face.
As I walked toward the house, I could see one of my little black kitty cats in the grass underneath the cedar tree zigzagging back and forth.
I knew immediately the cat was chasing something.
As I got closer, I could see that it was Violet. She stopped. Pounced. And when she lifted her head, there was a chipmunk in her jaws.
"Violet!" I said. "Drop it!"
I hot-footed it toward the cedar tree. Violet saw me coming and took off up the hill and ran behind the house, with several other kitties hot on her heels, the chipmunk dangling from her mouth.
I raced up the hill in the time to see Violet zip underneath my pickup truck.
I galloped across the driveway.
"Violet," I said in a wheedling, coaxing voice. "Where are you Violet?"
I went around to the other side of the truck. There was Violet, still with the chipmunk in her jaws. She had grabbed him along the back. I couldn't be sure, but I thought it was possible the chipmunk was still alive. All of the other cats thought so too.
Violet zipped out from underneath the truck and over to the lilac bushes.
"Violet!" I yelled, jumping up and down and waving my arms.
Violet took one look at me and ran off.
Without dropping the chipmunk of course.
For a few minutes, it was a tense game of ring-around-the-rosie around the lilac bushes. Back and forth and around -- back and forth and around.
Finally Violet dropped the chipmunk. He almost made it up into the lilacs when she grabbed him again and ran out into the east side yard, the chipmunk once again dangling from her jaws. She raced across the yard and down the hill to the lower driveway. With me right on her heels. And the other kitties on my heels.
"Violet!" I said. I slowed to stop.
"Violet. Oh, my sweet Vioooo-ooooo-let," I crooned. "Drop the chipmunk."
Violet took one look at me and ran down the driveway toward the basement door and the cedar tree. I took off after her. So did the other cats.
By the time I got to the basement door, I couldn't see Violet. I decided she must have ran up to the backyard again. I hot-footed it up and around the house.
No Violet.
I headed back down to the cedar tree.
And there was Violet.
With the chipmunk between her front paws.
He was sitting there looking up at her.
"Don't just sit there," I yelled. "RUN!"
The chipmunk seemed to come to his senses then and dove into the nearest chipmunk hole underneath the cedar tree. The chippies have got many holes underneath the cedar.
Violet sprang after him but missed. She put her nose to the hole and then stuck her paw, up to the shoulder, into the chipmunk hole.
"I hope he's out of reach," I muttered.
In the meantime, the other kitties must have decided they were not going to get the chipmunk away from Violet and wandered off to do something else.
A few seconds later Randy came home. He had gone to church but I had stayed home because I woke up with a killer sinus headache. Chasing the cat around had not, I had noticed, helped my headache very much. My husband was wondering why I was sweating profusely and slightly out of breath.
"Chipmunk," I said. "Violet had him."
"Oh, no," Randy said.
I explained about my long and protracted chase.
"He got away," I said. "The last I saw, Violet had her front leg down the hole."
We walked down to the cedar tree -- and there, in the branches, was a chipmunk.
"I think that's him!" I said.
Sure enough, the little guy had bite marks along his back, but otherwise he appeared to be all right. He was nosing around on the branches, climbing here and there.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay up in the tree on the smallest branches where the kitties can't get to you," I said.
I'm still trying to figure out why the chipmunks would want to excavate so many holes underneath the cedar tree. Especially at a place with cats who like to hunt and who are quite good at it.
Later in the afternoon when I walked down to the barn, Little Sister was laid out flat on her belly in the grass staring under the cedar tree. She's got babies in the barn, so I suppose she thought it was the perfect opportunity to catch a chipmunk for her kittens for educational purposes.
As far as I know, Little Sister has not yet caught a chipmunk. She has, however, already caught a pocket gopher to bring into the barn for her babies.
Now, if only there was some way I could communicate to the chipmunks that they ought to move across the road to the big pines. They could have all the holes they wanted there -- and they would be much safer.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Monday, June 15, 2009, 20:23
What a Mess!
The power company came through this past week and cut about a dozen trees along the edge of our yard to keep them away from the power lines.
Our huge oak tree next to the road was spared for the time being because they are worried about oak wilt. They will be hacking away at that in July.
What a mess. It looks horrible. It looks worse than horrible. Many of those trees were going on 30 years old. And I know I will not live long enough to see the trees grown back again. They used to have a policy of topping the trees that were close to the lines. Now they just hack them all down.
I asked about burying the line, but they told me they'd have to cut down the trees to bury the line anyway. Which makes no sense to me. Why would they want to dig through all of the tree roots? I would be perfectly willing to let them go through the yard to spare my trees.
Unfortunately, they told me that burying the line costs $10 per foot and we would be responsible for paying the cost.
I even hate to go outside now and look toward the road. Talk about making a butchered mess.
LeAnn R. Ralph