Drought ridden NH and thirsty potted flowers require innovation. Hence, there are tubs of water around the barn and studio. Four digging dogs, two of whom are renowned for partipation in mikicc.org, require gardening in pots.
The tubs, note blue one by cottage, gather what little moisture has fallen and, as a side benefit catches an occasional destructive rodent.
A peek, on my way to do some writing, was in time to see a deep diving chipmunk. The little creature’s antics would have led one to believe it was Esther Williams reincarnated. There is no way to know the reaction, had it been rat, or mouse, but as a softie, even a furniture wrecking vermin, would probably been saved.
As the saved water was, unsaved, on a stand of low growing blueberries, which thrive just outside the dog fence, the little creature took a surf, onto the turf. And there it lay.
But, it was breathing! How does one do CPR on a drowning Chippie? The little body lay prostrate, no movement, except little puffs and the occasional sigh.
What must that poor thing have been thinking ?
All it wanted was a drought induced sip of water. And now, a deep dive, followed by a Niagara falls exit, and a vicious human starring down. “My parents warned me about humans. Have I survived the water, to be done in by a shovel?” No little Chippie, not by this human. And by the way didnt you notice the water bowl next to the tub?
I eased the soggy mess from leaves to dry box and placed it in the sun to dry. It was still gasping for air.
Perhaps, by picking it up by its tail, the water might pour out of its little lungs? Worth a try. Hoping not to get bitten, a pinch of the tail raises the unresponsive body a few inches above the cardboard box. And SH###T!!! The cute little tail ended up in my fingers. Now the semi drowned Chip is also blessed with a boney, hairless tail and unceremoniously plopped back into the box. At least if it survives it will be easily identified.
More watching, a little water had in fact dripped out with the pick-up. A bit of shifting to keep the box in the sun. The tiny feet moved! The beady eye blinked! Chores needed to be done. On your own little one. Another twitch. Another blink. A bit of a wiggle, and a still soggy chipmunk 🐿 staggered into the woods . As I walked to the barn, the loud, obnoxious chipmunk chirp reverberated. Was that a “Thank-you” or a “What did you do to my tail?” Do chipmunks have a repertoire of expletives?
Self Employed Again 