October 26, 2009

Restless Soul Syndrome

It is time, once again, for my husband to forget that the animal going CHUP CHUP CHUP CHUP in the yard is a chipmunk. Twice a year, every fall and spring, that chipmunk pops out of his burrow by the front porch to make endless chuppy chup sounds. How long do they live, chipmunks? I would think, based on the early expiration dates God has stamped onto gerbils and mice, that a chipmunk would not STILL be present and living and chupping up the earth more than five years after we bought the house. Perhaps this is son of son of chuppy chipmunk, and we should have nipped his LOUD father in the bud on move-in day before he could spawn his equally LOUD progenies who apparently won’t LEAVE THE HOME BURROW and go GET JOBS chupping elsewhere.

These noises---gahhhhh. He makes them with a maddening regularity and ear-drum piercing pitch and timbre. For several weeks. After the first few days, as he stands just under the office window for hours and hours, chuppitty chup chupping, Scott says, MAY I PLEASE GO SHOOT THAT AWFUL BIRD IN THE FACE? Actually he says the Scottly equivalent of such, which means he cocks one eyebrow to a mildly displeased angle and says, ”That bird is loud.” (But he MEANS he wants to shoot it in the face. Or maybe it is only that I mean he does.)

Then I say, “That is not a bird, that is that SAME CHIPMUNK,”
and he says, “What same chipmunk?”
and I say, “The one you wanted to shoot in the face last spring when he stood there chupping endlessly,”
and Scott says, “I wanted to shoot who in the what? The bird???”
and I say, “IT IS NOT A BIRD IT IS A CHIPMUNK. NOW GO SHOOT IT.”

Then instead of going and shooting it like a sensible person, he argues that the ungodly noise must be from a bird, and I say he always thinks it is a bird and it never is, and finally he goes and looks and there under the office window is the same Chipmunk (or its horrid progeny), standing stiff legged with a rigid spine and a fixed stare, chup chup chupping for all he is worth. Then Scott says, “Hm. It IS a chipmunk,” and nothing gets shot and the chipmunk finishes his chup-cycle and shuts up until the next spring-or-fall, when we will repeat this seasonal passion play, I am certain.

I think I need a change. Hopefully one that does involve firearms and the obliteration of what is actually a rather cute little fellow when he keeps his squeaky pie-hole shut. But yeah – I definitely need a change.

Posted by joshilyn at October 26, 2009 8:03 AM
Comments

The chipmunk sounds lonesome. Let the young yellow kitty out to play with the chipmunk. Kitties likes to play with chipmunks. They loves it to death. Chipmunks at the very least will shut the chup up. (Ask me about our tomato-eating chipmunk, especially the day he got his head caught in the black plastic net I had wrapped around said tomatoes.)

Posted by: rams at October 26, 2009 8:34 AM

We've had two of those young fellows. I say had, because our boggert-yeller-kitty is death to chupping chupmonks. I just wish he didn't bring them in the house to "share". (although last week he dropped one in the food bowl in the kitchen with a profound thunk which gave me quite a laugh when I realized it was probably a comment on the kitty kibble he's been getting...)

Posted by: Jen at October 26, 2009 9:44 AM

SO glad i am not the only one having conversations like that with the spousal unit!!

Posted by: Judy at October 26, 2009 10:16 AM

It's not Scott's fault. It's his broken chromosome. That missing little tail of the second X contains critical skills like listening, long term memory, the ability to find something that is staring you in the face, and the ancient hunter-gatherer need for shoes.

Posted by: Jen at October 26, 2009 12:30 PM

Oh. Really? I think the tail broke off my x... here at my house *I* am the one who is congenitally unable to find the shoes. ESPECIALLY if they have been put away on the shoe shelf in my closet.

Posted by: Joshilyn at October 26, 2009 12:32 PM

I think I would be willing to trade if it meant that you would take the family of groundhogs that ate my garden this summer...

Posted by: Linda J at October 26, 2009 1:32 PM

Perhaps it wants some seeds or something? At least it would be chewing instead of chupping :)

Posted by: Reagan at October 26, 2009 4:09 PM

My three kitty cats could come take care of that for you.

Posted by: pam at October 26, 2009 4:32 PM

Good description of that chipmunk sound. We have them in our yard too, and I always think it's a bird I'm hearing till I see a little guy standing at attention like you described. I think they're cute when I'm out in the garden, but I understand not being able to think or write during the racket.

Posted by: Red Hamster at October 26, 2009 5:10 PM

Here in IlliNOISE, we have ground squirrels. They burrrow. Our neighbors had one, or a dozen under theri cement slab we call a patio. The Y chromosomed neighbor poured gasoline in the hole, then lit it.
They have no ground squirrels. They still have a patio slab. I still wonder.

Posted by: JulieB at October 26, 2009 11:50 PM

This makes me doubly glad I 1) don't work at home and 2) wear headset all day long.

Posted by: Cele at October 27, 2009 12:22 AM

This makes me doubly glad I 1) don't work at home and 2) wear headset all day long.

Posted by: Cele at October 27, 2009 12:25 AM

Ah. It's not just MY husband, then.

Posted by: Brigitte at October 27, 2009 7:33 AM

Saw something that made me think of you. "ON storr," referring to some random Norse word, but it looked like OnStar, and I know how much you love OnStar. I honestly have no idea what storr means, nor did I care enough to find out (you remember grad school, right?).

Posted by: Haley at October 27, 2009 10:30 AM

Maybe Scott and the chipmunk are just waiting for the right time to reveal the musical act they've been secretly rehearsing.

Posted by: Paige at October 27, 2009 1:23 PM