Catymology

Earlier this summer, my backyard was full of the little rodents. I would chase them and chase them all the time--although I never caught one. Then, a couple of weeks ago, they all disappeared. My humans found a dead chipmunk on the grass, and they thought that I had done it in. But I didn't.

Yesterday, the next-door neighbor told my humans that she had called in an exterminator to rid her house of mice. Of course the exterminator put poison both inside and outside the house. That's when she said that she had found a dead chipmunk in the yard. The chipmunks must have all eaten the tasty poison, because they're gone.

I loved chasing my chipmunks. I wrote a poem about them--Timber Tiger, the slang name for chipmunks in parts of the Pacific Northwest. Even if I could have caught one, I never would have killed them all. I miss my Timber Tigers very much.

My timber tigers will be remembered on the Friday Ark, and in the Carnival of the Cats, hosted this week by House Panthers.

Labels: chipmunks

The timber tiger is what I seek.
His stripes are bold; his bulging cheek

Is filled with nuts and seeds and bird eggs
And bugs and worms and even frog legs!

I can hear him chittering.
Underneath the steps he’s skittering.

I know if I am very still
I’ll have a chance to make a kill.

And what else to do on a cloudy day
But lie on the patio and dream of prey?






Now, for the Modulator's Friday Ark. And on Sunday, the Carnival of the Cats at Meowza.

Labels: chipmunks, poetry

Jump aboard the Friday Ark at Modulator. On Sunday, the Carnival of the Cats will be at Adventures in Cat Philanthropy,

Labels: chipmunks