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Wednesday, September 10, 2003 Let me describe the set-up. I sit and write at the dining room table -- the very spot I'm planted as I type these words. In the dining room, of course, located at the house's southeast corner. A nice room to work in, with two windows situated close to my usual writing spot, both equidistant from the southeast corner of the room (also, coincidentally, the southeast corner of the house). Each of those windows features a large bird feeder, hanging right outside, essentially up against the glass. Combine that with a windbreak situated about 15 feet from the end of the house (composed of a line of big, bushy fir trees bookended by shaggy, jumbo-sized lilac bushes), you have abundant cover for wildlife. Used by abundant wildlife. On a normal day, this end of the house sees heavy traffic by both furry and feathered types. So. An hour ago, back home after several hours in Montpelier. Came in, sat down here at the dining room table, cranked up the 'puter. Got working on something, a few minutes into it I hear a strange sound. Not one I've heard before, not one I can identify. Mysterious. I hear it again, still unidentifiable. Kind of percussive, kind of vaguely metallic. Not real loud, not real soft. And difficult to place. Could be inside the wall. Or not. Hard to tell. I hear it more. On a hunch, I go outside and snoop around near the dining room windows. I hear it still more. Lots more. And as I get closer to the source of the sound, I begin hearing sounds of chipmunk panic. One of the little buggers, it turns out, has managed to climb halfway up the vertical length of downspout that extends down from the rain gutter. Right here at the corner of the house. That's the sound: chipmunk in downspout. Kind of a madcap chip 'n' dale equivalent of indoor rock climbing. (Or maybe not.) Chipmunks, you ask? Yes. Yes. This summer is the first time they've shown up around my little hilltop fiefdom. I first saw them in June, down at the other end of the house, hanging furtively around the flower beds, maintaining a low profile. When the birdfeeders went back into operation at the beginning of August, the chipmunks discovered that overenthusiastic winged diners have a tendency to spray sunflower seeds all over the place, and immediately relocated to this end of the house. They quickly developed a habit of using the last, horizontal section of downspout for cover as they hung out picking up seeds. But they have never ventured upward from that lurking place. Until now. So I'm outside discovering this. The noise in the downspout is getting a bit wild as the occupant starts scrabbling around, chirping loudly in panic and/or irritation at my unwelcome intrusion into their evening activities. This would be mighty entertaining if it weren't for the fact that I don't especially want critters hanging out in the downspouts. Nasty things can happen when critters begin doing that. I rap on the downspout a few times, the scrabbling inside gets a bit more fevered as the 'munk apparently tries heading for the roof. Without success. I go to the garage, drag out my 20-foot extension ladder, cart it to this end of the house, set it up. I get the garden hose, turn it on, climb up to the roof. Finding a comfy patch of roofing shingles, I sit by the downspout aperture and begin spraying water down the pipe. Not huge, flooding quantities of water, nothing dangerous or inhumane -- just enough to annoy the bejesus out of lurking chipmunks. I do that for a while, then take a peek over the edge of the roof where water burbles merrily out of the end of the spout into the grass. A chipmunk head pokes itself out the end of the pipe, trying to figure out what happened to his/her evening of carefree downspout climbing. I get more water going down the pipe. The critter gives up, bounds through the grass to disappear beneath the greenery of the windbreak. Country life. My life, currently. Kind of scary. rws 11:40 PM [+]
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