I enjoy waking to the sounds of birds chirping in the garden. There’s something about it that signals all is well with the world. Each morning, songbirds frequent the seed feeders and bird baths, hummingbirds buzz in a high pitch, and bees go about the business of pollinating. All that welcome garden activity makes the almost daily watering and deadheading, not to mention refilling the seed feeders, worth the effort. The downside is that everything that makes a lovely garden that appeals to birds and pollinators also attracts chipmunks. And, although cute, with their striped backs and charming way of cracking open sunflower seeds, they are destructive. Given free rein, they dig and chew and strip blossoms off plants—presumably to make a cushy place to sleep and multiply. And there’s the rub.
Luckily for me, there is a solution, and it has a name: Daisy. Daisy dog has taken an oath against all chipmunks. In fact, their complete and utter destruction is her main goal for the season. She treats the great chipmunk chase like a full-time job. Her shift starts first thing in the morning and carries on until she is closed-in for the night.
“Upon waking, Daisy tunes her ears, listening for any hint of chipmunk trespassers.”
Upon waking, Daisy tunes her ears, listening for any hint of chipmunk trespassers. She strains to listen for the sounds of their tiny paws scurrying on the deck or jumping off planters, and it drives her wild. The minute she spots a chipmunk, the chase is on. She darts through the dog door in frantic pursuit. The chipmunk scrambles, ducking into the nearest hiding place—under the barbecue or the fire pit, in the small space beneath a planter. If they get past Daisy and make it down the stairs, they often hide under the ground-level deck. We can usually tell where the critter is hiding because that’s where Daisy is sniffing and pawing at the ground.
Once she has her prey cornered, Daisy is steadfast in her pursuit. She dashes from one side to the other, then back again, pivoting in a flash. The sound effects are telling: erratic squeaking from the scurrying chipmunk, and the pounding of paws on deck, stairs and gravel as Daisy follows in chase. A clever chipmunk aims for the drain spout close to the bottom of the stairs. There’s a rain barrel there that Daisy has no trouble upending, making a terrific and startling racket, but she cannot reach inside the rain spout. I picture a panting and relieved chipmunk about 2 feet up the spout with all four paws planted on the walls, just waiting for Daisy to give up and abandon the chase. Sometimes, a chipmunk will use the crevasses in the stacked rock planter to make its escape by cutting through a small opening under the stairs that leads to the space under the deck. Many ways to escape can be found there and Daisy loses valuable time being forced to jump out of the planter and go around the staircase. By then, the harassed chipmunk will have ducked under bricks and rocks and gone through the fence to the outside where Daisy can’t follow. When on a walk in the neighborhood, Daisy will lunge at every chipmunk sighting. No amount of thorny bracken or thistle patch deters her. We brace ourselves and rein her in. It’s clearly an obsession.
Regardless of losing most of the time, Daisy’s interest in the chase never wanes. More often than not, the chipmunk gets away, and most of the time, nothing gets damaged. Then there are the other times. I’ve found decorative lanterns tipped over with the glass broken and ceramic pots lying on their sides with the plants damaged. I’ve found stacked rocks toppled and small digging spots in the dirt around the edges of the deck. All signs of yet another episode of the great chipmunk chase. Although messy, these scenes are sure signs of a successful escape.
It’s rare, but there have been times when the chipmunk loses the game. When Daisy gets hold of one, she dispatches it quickly. Those times, I usually find them lying lifeless in the yard. I don’t want Daisy to snack on it, so I toss it outside of the fenced area. We also have a large contingent of crows and hawks, so it’s no surprise that freshly dead rodents disappear quickly.
Unfortunately, there have been times when Daisy was inspired to bring her prize inside to show off. Recently, while I was relaxing on the couch, Daisy trotted in from outside and spit something onto the rug in front of the television. It took only a few seconds to recognize it to be a mangled squirrel—on the large side, wet with spit and bald in patches. It most definitely does not belong on the rug inside. Hubby got a plastic bag to scoop it up while I gathered cleaning supplies. Yuck. It wasn’t until bedtime when we discovered that the mangling took place at the foot of our bed. Of course, we had to change the bedding before we could sleep that night. And just yesterday, she appeared at Hubby’s elbow and dropped a small black squirrel, slightly chewed, and definitely dead. At least that one hadn’t become that way on our bed.
It seems that Daisy brings in dead squirrel prizes to show off but not chipmunks.
Maybe it’s harder to catch a tree squirrel and therefore deemed a hard-won prize. I’m just surprised that word in the rodent underground hasn’t warned them off from the fenced area around our house. I could script the treetop gossip: Did you hear? There’s a crazy white dog behind that fence that makes it her mission to kill us chipmunks and squirrels. Whatever you do, do NOT go in there. I wish they would spread the word and heed the warning. Although I don’t enjoy rodent destruction, I also don’t relish coming across dead rodents in the yard—or on the living room rug for that matter.
Whether in the yard, on the deck, or out taking a walk, Daisy’s single-minded obsession with the Great Chipmunk Chase shows no signs of stopping any time soon. For the sake of the local chipmunks, I hope they clue in.
