Saved a Turtle, Offed a Chipmunk

The other day my husband was driving on a street that curves around Tiedemann’s Pond when he braked and said, “Turtle!”  I hopped out of the car and stood behind the turtle, which was pretty large, about 5 by 7 inches, my feet in a V, keeping him going in the direction of the pond.  You never pick up a turtle.  They pee.  And sure enough, the little guy peed all the way to the curb where he hit a definite road block.  I picked him up just enough to scale the height and he toddled off toward the water.  We felt good.  Saved a turtle….probably.

On Monday, our anniversary, the neighbors came over to share a bottle of champagne.  I told them to sit on the deck and I’d be right out with more chairs. 

Before I continue, it must be made clear that we have spent hundreds, no thousands, of dollars repairing chipmunk damage to the window well that is off our deck.  I loved Chip and Dale when I was growing up.  I am a very peaceable, life affirming person.  But I had to put my foot down after paying the last repair bill of $1200. 

So here’s what happened.

Mary! What’s this?

An animal in a bucket. 

I think it’s dead.

 

Yes, Abigail.  Yes.

I drown chipmunks in buckets.

Yes, it’s surely dead.

 

One, two.  There’ll be more.

They are so very stupid,

falling in like that.

 

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