What in the Sam Hill are you doing there, little chipmunk?
I am giving your son's bike helmet a thorough licking. Mlem mlem mlem mlem.
It seems he left some salt on it.
Mlem mlem mlem. There's even some inside! Let me just reach...
Oop! I'd better not get too carried away here. Is that a hawk?
I don't think it's a hawk. I think it's just a crow. Still. Crows. Snrk! Not to be trusted.
I'm going to scamper down and get some rootlets to eat.
I think I just figured out why you're craving salt and rootlets, Missy. You're looking a wee bit thick in the dirndl for so early in spring. Spring chipmunks are supposed to be thin. And I see you've got the table set for six.
Well, you set a new standard for nosy, Madame Photographer. If you didn't toss sunflower hearts and peanuts out here every day, I might take offense. You don't have to know all my secrets. And is it necessary to broadcast them to thousands of people? Honestly.
I could get huffy.
Instead I will lick the salt off my hands.
Back and forth, clean the wrist pads.
And a quick mflflfmmmmfff around the gumline and we're done.
Thank you for documenting my every move. I'm sure your readers will find it enlightening. You have blackened the chipmunk name in your blog. It is time you presented us in a better light. Yes, Uncle Bob takes a goldfinch now and then, and everyone's still talking about the time he dragged a whole mourning dove down the burrow. But life is life and nature is nature. We are omnivores. And most of the time there is no one tossing peanuts to us.
True that. Thank you, Miss Tilda SixButtons, for this little photo salon. You are very photogenic! Good luck with the litter.