Yesterday, as I walked down the barn aisle toward the feed room, I heard a “clunk”. I turned around to see the tail of a chipmunk disappearing into a hole, and an acorn rolling on the floor. Poor thing. I must’ve scared him. Usually they are pretty bold. A couple of times when I’ve been soaking grain and turned my back, I found a chipmunk sitting pretty in the bucket and helping himself.

They’re also pretty stupid. More than once, I’ve had a scared rodent run right over my boots when exiting, stage left in a panic.

But the ‘munks must be reading the Old Farmer’s Almanac, which predicts that the coldest periods this winter will occur from late December into mid-January and late January into early February and in mid-

to late February. Because this chipmunk was not going to take any chances of letting me get his acorn.

I stood very, very still. It didn’t take long before he poked his head out, then crept carefully toward the wayward nut. Grasping it between his paws I could almost hear the sigh of relief. Then he turned and bolted so fast that he looked only like a smudge in the afternoon light.