Cheeky Chipmunk Chow

The year I began living year round at the wilderness homestead, I went on a long walk with my parents up the access road which was always nothing more than a steeply climbing jeep track through pristine, old growth forestland. The weather was ideal, the air crisp and clear. After the first quarter mile we had gained almost four-hundred feet of elevation as we approached the point where stream and track crossed when the silence was broken by a chipmunk perched on a large boulder chittering loudly at us for invading its territory.

We stopped to enjoy its discontent and had barely begun to ponder on how we might be the first human beings the little creature had ever seen in its life when a red tailed hawk swooped down from some high perch it had taken up to do its thing hunting for such delectables as the chipmunk distracted by us. The chittering abruptly ended with a surprised squeak and they were gone, disappearing into the forest canopy. Nature in action.

We looked at each other for a moment, not quite finished processing the stark reality of the natural event, looked around to take in our surroundings a bit more thoroughly, just in case a large predator was eyeing us as prey, then continued our walk. None of us has ever been overly sentimental, so we weren't as shaken by the incident as we were thankful to have been there to witness it. It did get me wondering if I might be harming the ecosystem by living so deeply embedded in wilderness, then decided it didn't matter. The cheeky chipmunk's mad chittering at us might have opened up a window of opportunity for the hawk to nab it, but being a creature of planet Earth, I too deserve to exist in it wherever I manage to make my way in the world. The trick of survival by all of us living here is to stay alert and situationally aware enough to avoid becoming chow.