Fred and his Brethren

Sitting on the porch is the best way to start the day; coffee, camera and company. Some years ago, after a hot summer, (read brown grass), and a ravening horde of grubs, (read dead grass), I decided to replace the front lawn with growing things that do not require mowing. Win-win; no lawnmower required and no water needed. My neighbours, most of whom are of an older generation where the Lawn is somewhat sacred, might have a slightly different view of this change, but I have decided that what I have created is a habitat. Whereas grass is just, well, grass, and may show a variety of browns, in my experience anyway, every day something different is blooming and someone different is visiting. For instance this morning an American Lady visited. She said her name was Virginia.

While I welcome all visitors to the yard, well, with the exception of various neighborhood cats,  my favorite visitor is Fred. 

While some homeowners would put chipmunks in the category of Pestilence for burrowing under their walkways or in their gardens, I think that the entertainment value far exceeds any small damage they might incur. 

Now to Fred. If you live where there is winter, you know that no matter how long it lasts, it is too long. You fervently desire to be rid of boots and heavy coats. You scout the yard for something green, and as soon as temperature permits, you repair to the porch with your coffee and peanuts and begin the yearly communion with the yard and its inhabitants. Bliss. My mother-in-law came to visit us late one summer. By this time I had spent many hours on the porch and had some fairly friendly furry friends that I wanted to introduce her to. Amongst this number was a grey squirrel who would feed from my hand, chickadees that would sit close by, and of course, several chipmunks.

In short order, Mom decided that the chipmunk should have a name, and that it should be Fred. Each day we spent some time with Fred, and it was a matter

of great concern should he not present himself for peanuts or sunflower seeds. 

It did not take long before Mom and Fred were fast friends. Spotting Fred in the yard became a game, like Where's Waldo. As it is pretty hard to tell chipmunks apart save for a difference in the length of tail or perhaps a scar from an encounter with a sneaky cat, I am sure that there was more than one "Fred" at play in the yard. You never knew where he would be seen.

In the blue spruce,

at the watering hole,

on the trellis, or

in the flower box.

Sometimes he brought a friend.

During Mom's visit we did visit with family and engage in some other adult activities, but the highlight of each day was time spent with Fred.

The time came, and much too quickly, to return Mom to Quebec. It is a long trip from Ontario to the Eastern Townships for a grandma in her 90's so Mom has not been able to come back this way again. Fred, however, has become the stuff of legends, almost a family member. He is regularly asked after, and greetings are sent to him on each card that comes our way. 

As I write this, Fred is under my chair looking for a little something to store away for the (insert "w" word, which shall yet remain unspoken). I don't know if it's the same Fred, or another one, but it doesn't matter because they are all Fred now. Even when I send Mom a photo of a chipmunk that I saw on a forest walk, she identifies it as Fred. He sure gets around!

Wherever I see him, he invokes memories of a very special visit, and whenever I see him I am thankful.