"What on earth" said hubby, looking out of the window, "Is wrong with that oak tree?" We've got a beautiful, big oak in the back garden, simply groaning with acorns. And now, suddenly, there were bits of twig and bunches of leaves lying on the ground around it, like a ragged carpet. It wasn't the wind - the other trees were OK. Then we saw them. Chipmunks, a whole football team of chipmunks, darting in relays across the garden, shinning up the tree, nibbling through the twigs and letting a bunch of acorns fall so they could grab them all at once. It saves getting them one by one after all. There's a limit to how many you can stuff in your cheeks.
And while some were up the tree, others were scampering back to the network of tunnels that will shortly make our entire garden cave in.
To think that we once thought our little friend Chippy was so sweet, innocent and vulnerable. To think I actually put peanuts out for him. Peanuts! After the summer blueberry heist we should have known better. He has evidently told all his friends and relations about the rich pickings to be found at the Lawrence residence and now we have complete anarchy. I hope there's something of the tree left for next year.