Chipmunk Wars, Part II carries us forward after the initial skirmish with the adorably, destructive beasties. Foolishly, I thought one short battle would surely end the troubles in our backyard. What a laugh the chippies must have gotten from that! To catch up on the story, check back on installment one.
A Nasty Chipmunk Surprise
With the world on shutdown due to a new virus, my daughter and I decided this was a perfect time to clean the back yard and joyously welcome Spring! What she did not realize was I had a decidedly more serious reason for insisting we tackle every little corner…Chipmunk Wars. First, I noted grape vines, which provided many jars of delicious jelly over the years, came back only as one or two plants. Poking a stick into the ground showed all too clearly the holes and tunnels surrounding my once beautiful curling vines. Further explorations showed:
- holes around my orange tree.
- holes every few feet along the fence
- holes under massive plant urns
- holes, holes, holes everywhere we looked.
Could There Be More Than Met the Eye?
Sending for the rake, the shovel, outdoor plastic bags and the wheelbarrow, I began the search in earnest. A massive oak tree in our back yard sheds more leaves than a forest. Winds push those leaves up against the fence, failing to send them through the openings between the boards. Up until this year, we planted rose bushes, greenery, and plants known for ground coverage within that fence.
This day I looked at each item with a jaundiced eye. Look! Is that rose bush still alive? Maybe that hedge needs to be cut back. What might it hide in its depths? Then my eyes espied the area where two beloved pups rested after crossing the Rainbow Bridge. One side of the small headstone on Little Bit’s grave listed to the left, while dear Buddy’s sat straight and proud. NO! That could not be! Removing the headstone, we found a storehouse for the Chipmunk’s acorns! A hole to the side showed how the miserable creatures secured them under the stone. The stripped horrors went too far when invading my sweet pup’s resting place!
The Search Is On!
We soon removed plastic railings around bushes planted in the peripheral areas of the sitting area. While my daughter blew leaves willy-nilly off the pavers and from around the bushes, I searched behind her for more holes. Clippers made short shrift of the longer limbs, reducing the plantings to stubs, while opening the view to yet additional tunnels. Having learned from the headstones in our tiny pet cemetery, I shifted the monster urns to the side, struggling to see what lay under them. ACORNS! Stashes of oak seedlings that would never see themselves grow into trees rested in piles under the planters.
With renewed energy, I raked madly, upending the chipmunk’s hoards and sealing them in garbage bags. Each hole became a receptacle for my mighty mothballs, hoping to stink the furry felons from their homes.
Where Have All the Mothballs Gone?
Alas, one bag of mothballs lasts a very short time. A trip to the store became the imperative of the day. The closest venue had not one tiny mothball to be found. Nor the second, nor the third. The truth struck like a bolt of lightning. My whole town must be under attack from chipmunks! With planting season beginning, we might end this season, not with huge sales of farm products, but with the stench of mothballs fending off the plant-devouring rodents. Yes, the same animal as the cute little chipmunk whose life I save those years ago. And this was how his relatives repaid me?
Screeching to a halt at the store of last resort, I barreled through two people talking through medical masks. I searched madly shelf to shelf, hoping to think the rodent-repellents into being. On the wall, halfway down the last aisle, I spotted the familiar purple and white lavender-scented package – a whole box of packages. Down at the other end of that aisle I saw a shopper’s eyes move to my mothballs, widen in recognition and switch to me. The race was on!
Racing Against Time and Another Shopper
Neither of us had the slender build of a runner or exercising guru. That day, however, we would have made both proud, as we shoved our carts down that aisle. Panting, with faces purple from the effort, we reached the mothballs at the exact same moment. My cart pushed hers in an effort to grab the prize. Barely had my fingers grazed the edge of the box than I went ‘OOMPF’ as her cart shoved mine backward. She edged me out in strength, but this old girl never says never.
Slinging my cart aside, I grabbed the front of hers and swung it toward the mop display on the other side of the aisle. Before she could correct it, I grabbed the coveted box and rushed toward the cash registers. Dodging in and out between the various aisles, I felt certain I lost her, until the registers came into view. There she stood, arms akimbo, feet firmly planted, blocking the path for me and anyone else wishing to check out.
Brains Instead of Brawn
The look on her face might have melted ice at the North Pole, but she proved no match for the gray-haired brain. I calmly called the manager and reported a customer refusing to let people check out at the registers. How helpful managers can be! She made the woman move and stood by while I checked out with every package of mothballs in my bag.
Soft Heart
The woman followed me out of the store. I figured, since the manager was nowhere in sight, this might be the end of my chipmunk-fighting career. I turned to see her crying softly as she opened her car door. Wouldn’t you know that I could not stand being the heavy? I walked over and gave her half the mothballs. Okay, I may fall short in seeding the many chipmunk holes, but somehow, I feel good about that.
Softer Head
My load of mothballs in hand, I marched into the house, ready to run the beasts out of my yard with a nasty smell. My daughter had fresh coffee waiting and insisted I sit down and drink the strong brew. Halfway through the sixteen ounce cup, an ecology message wormed its way into my brain. Mothballs, used in large numbers simply are not good for the environment, since rain dissolves them and they might end up in our water systems.
One sniff of one small ball is enough to wake the dead, therefore, several bags simply could not be good for Mother Earth. In the end, I ordered a HAVAHEART TRAP, which enables me to move the chipmunks to a forest area, without yards to destroy. As backup to the trap, I found a product which doesn’t hurt animals or the earth, but DOES give them a sniff of something they hate. So, the little ones race away from my yard to other less fortunate ones. Let’s face it, I am no good at killing or putting out harmful chemicals. I can’t even bring myself to use mothballs to kill moths in my closet.
OH great mini Squirrels !!!! LOL! I would tell you a joke about mothballs BUT…it being a bit raunchy…I better not ! To have moth balls or not to have moth balls, that is the question.