Of Chipmunks and Men

"Haaaaaaa!" 


Camper Neal Smith jumped from behind some brush yelling and screaming, hoping to give Rick a scare.  Thought it'd be funny.  Rick was studying one thing or another in the forest for the last forty-five minutes and it was driving Neal nuts.  

"Son of a!"  Rick shuffled nearly four feet backwards.  He moved so fast, it was like time travel.


Neal didn't enjoy idle time.  They'd entered an amazing state park complete with abundant exploration possibilities and an awesome beach.  Neal could think of no acceptable reason they should be sitting around. Joe was mesmerized by the fire, and Rick was, well, he had no idea. 

"Rat bastard." said Rick.

"What?"

"The chipmunk!," Rick replied. He was pissed. "I've sat here for almost an hour with this stupid bread in my hand, and my chipmunk was three feet from eating the bread from my hand."

"Your chipmunk?" asked Neal. I don't think it's the bread that's stupid; who spends an hour on their knees waiting for chipmunks to eat bread out of their hand?"

"Me," said Rick, "Judas."

And yes, my chipmunk, Rick continued. "I don't have to explain."


"He's not tame, he's not yours," joked Neal.


"Well I wasn't holding out for any other chipmunks!" replied Rick, "I only had that one...and a squirrel but he didn't last."


"How do you know it was a he." Neal never did know when to quit.  "They can't all be 'he' or there wouldn't be so many of those buggers running around."


"That's not the point.  I call them all he, that's just how it is," said Rick.  "Short of catching one and tipping it over, they're all 'he'.  I probably couldn't tell the difference anyhow."

"I am not even going there," said Neal.  "Doesn't matter.  I want to do something like hit the beach."  

"When I camp I do three things," said Rick, "smoke a cigar, drink a beer, and try to get a chipmunk to eat from my hand," said Rick.

"Who does that?" asked Neal.

"I think we covered that already," said Rick. "Anyway, waiting here...the forest calms me.  It's peaceful for me. I listen to the sounds in the forest...sort of like get in touch with nature or whatever."

"Who does that?"

"Who turned you into a friggin' broken record player?"

"What?" Neal had his eyes closed. He rubbed his forehead. "Let's do something."

"I mean, there's something amazing about getting a wild animal to trust me. It's like I think it was when Adam and Eve were created," explained Rick.  "I suppose I'm like one of the trees to them, I don't know."

"You're a tree with Wonder Bread branches," said Neal.  "Awesome."  


Neal paused, "But you're a biker. There's not a Harley man in the world that tries to get chipmunks to eat from their hand," said Neal, "You've got a skull on your gas cap and now you're taming chipmunks."

"It's a God thing man," said Rick, "And the bike came with the gas cap."

"Really?" said Neal, "You should find one with a little heart on it or something."

"Funny," said Rick. "Either way, I'm sitting there in complete silence, as still as possible, and the wind blows, birds sing, and chipmunks appear out of nowhere. Stuff happens man, I'm telling you."

"Dude, that's cool, but I think I'd probably fall asleep face down on the bread and the chipmunk would probably gnaw through my nose to get to the bread," said Neal. "Totally great movie plot."

"You wouldn't fall asleep," Rick replied. "Either way, when they take the bread from my hand, it tickles. Feels so cool. And the little thing is completely silent. You wouldn't believe it, but they don't make any sound. They get the bread and they're gone like magic."

"I like nature."

Neal didn't quite know what to say beyond, "I like nature." It's not like he was ignorant. He just wasn't the type to feed chipmunks.

"It's about the book of Matthew," said Rick.

"Matthew?"

"If God is willing to clothe the sparrow, how much more blessing will be given to me?" said Rick. "Accept I think the analogy works for chipmunks too."

"That's deep," said Neal. "You feeling insecure?"

"Sometimes," Rick replied. "It's just good to know, that's all."

"A chipmunk feeding Harley dude," said Neal, "That's just funny. Now let's do something!"

"What do we do?"

"Joe's by the fire, let's go and figure that out," replied Neal, "We'll go swimming or play catch, I don't care."

Neal and Rick joined Joe by the fire. Joe stared into the flames. 

Neal sipped his luke warm beer. Rick nibbled on Cheese Nips.

"Swim?" asked Neal.

"Sure," said the two others simultaneously.

Joe, Neal and Rick, partially slouched in their chairs, sipped beer and nibbled crackers.  The fire burned and they watched, rapt by flames. The burning logs hissed and spit.  The three men, without a word, listened to the fire crackle.

A healthy chipmunk skirted from behind them, ran underneath their chairs to the other side of the fire pit. He paused to test some morsel on the ground, but then scampered silently into another part of the forest.