воскресенье, 19 октября 2008 г.

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Stuart brought in a chipmunk. Iapos;m supposed to be asleep. Threw kitty in the other room, went into bathroom to locate chipmunk. Spent some time exchanging knowledge of predator-prey battle tactics. Chipmunks. Now they rely on camoflauge most of the time. They wait. They are the ambush predators of the prey world. That chipmunk, she would wait and wait as I got closer, even brush against her, not movin till I�was right on her, then sheapos;d leap and chitter right before she ran. Like an octopus inking. And the chitter gets quieter as she runs, so it sounds like sheapos;s farther away and maybe even going a different direction when she hides.

Caught her finally by coaxing her into a plastic bag, torn up. Itapos;d had 12 TP rolls in it before. I finally rolled the edges under her and was able to scoop her up- but the bag had a huge rip in it, from which she was dangling, and she did not want to fall. She wanted to climb into the bag. I guess I kind of convinced her the bag was "cover," and cover equils safe. Sheapos;d just been lifted away from the rest of the cover, falling would have meant her plopping noisily into the wide-open.

So I�talked to her as I walked her out side.
"We like the bag. The bag is cover. We want to stay in the bag. How much is left in you?" I gently probed her through the bag, trying to find her face and eyes. Closed. The bag had some sort of pinprick pattern running through it so I�wasnapos;t much worried about suffocaton.
"Almost to the branch pile. The branches are good. We like the branches. Here, look, over there is cover."
She didnapos;t run. I�lightly nudged her with my finger. No response. I touched her along the side, putting pressure on it. I could feel muscles quiver, but she still didnapos;t move.� I stroked her along the back with three fingers, pushed her side gently but firmly.
"Donapos;t you have a little left? Canapos;t you run for me?"
Sheapos;d gone into shock, or she had become habituated. She didnapos;t feel the need to run from me.
If it was shock, the first aid convention is "keep victim warm." And if it was shock, she was on her way out in any case. So I decided to stay and keep her warm. I�stroked her neck and the stripes on her back. There seemed to be no blood, no big obious wound, but it could just as easily be punctures or internal injuries. So I�just pulled my arms close and set them around her, to keep the wind off and the warm in, and sat there and gently stroked her with my finger.

I donapos;t know how social or affectionate chipmunks are with each other, but I think they do remember being groomed by their mother, someplace warm and safe. She seemed to appreciate it.

I�began to think Iapos;d better put some pressure on her to leave the bag, at very least, so I�started rolling the sides down out from under her.�She did have it in her to go, it turned out, once the bag was unavailalbe. She didnapos;t go very fast, and her progress along the wall of the garage (which sheapos;d selected as cover instead of the brush pile- probably territorial issues) was unsteady.

Anyways. Next new project: millitary-grade chipmunk bunkers Bolty-holes included An entire network of secure facilities complete with dog-proof entrances and exits Buhl-loooooo goldyfish follwo the goldy fish. Follow the Fish. *follows* good night


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