About a score of chipmunks have their homes in my yard.  They are delightfully tame and will climb upon my head or shoulder, eat nuts from my hand, or go into my pockets after them.  At times three or four make it lively for me.  One day I stopped to give one some peanuts.  While he was standing erect and taking them from my fingers, a strange dog appeared.  At once all of the chipmunks in the yard gave a chattering, scolding alarm-cry and retreated to their holes.  The one I was feeding dashed up into my coat pocket.  Standing up with fore paws on the edge of the pocket, and with head thrust out, he gave the dog a tempestuous scolding.  This same chipmunk often played upon the back of Scotch, my collie.  Occasionally he stood erect on Scotch to sputter out an alarm-cry and to look around when something aroused his suspicions.
 Chipmunks are easily tamed and on short acquaintance will come to eat from one’s hand.  Often they come into my cabin for food or for paper to use for bedding.  Occasionally one will sit erect upon my knee or shoulder, sometimes looking off intently into the yard; at other times apparently seeing nothing, but wrapped in meditation.  More often, however, they are storing peanuts in their pouches or deliberately eating a kernel.  Rarely is the presence of one agreeable to another, and when four of five happen to call at the same time, they sometimes forget their etiquette and I am the center of a chipmunk scrimmage.
 Once five callers came, each stringing in behind another.  Just as the fifth came in the door, there was a dispute among the others and one started to retreat.  Evidently he did not want to go, for he retreated away from the open door.  As number two started in pursuit of him, number three gave chase to number two.  After them started number four, and the fifth one after all the others.  The first one, being closely pressed and not wanting to leave the room, ran round the centre table, and in an instant all five were racing round the table.  After the first round they became excited and each one went his best.  The circle they were following was not large, and the floor was smooth.  Presently the rear legs of one skidded comically, then the fore feet of another; and now and then one lost his footing and rolled entirely over, then arose, looking surprised and foolish, but with a leap entered the circle and was again at full speed.
 I enjoy having them about, and spend many a happy hour watching them or playing with them.  They often make a picnic-ground of my porch, and now and then one lies down to rest upon one of the log seats, where, outstretched, with head up and one fore paw extended leisurely upon the log, he looks like a young lion.
 Often they climb up and scamper over the roof of my cabin; but most of their time on the roof is spent in dressing their fur or enjoying long, warm sun baths.  Frequently they mount the roof early in the morning, even before sunrise.  I am sometimes awakened at early dawn by a chipmunk mob that is having a lively time upon the roof.
 In many things they are persistent.  Once I closed the hole that one had made in a place where I did not want it.  I filled the hole full of earth.  Inside of two hours it was reopened.  Then I pounded it full of gravel, but this was dug out.  I drove a stake into the hole.  Anew hole was promptly made alongside the stake.  I poured this full of water.  Presently out came a wet and angry chipmunk.  This daily drowning out by water was continued for more than a week before the chipmunk gave it up and opened a hole about thirty feet distant.
 For eight years I kept track of a chipmunk by my cabin.  She lived in a long, crooked underground hole, or tunnel, which must have had a total length of nearly one hundred feet.  It extended in a semicircle and could be entered at three or four places through holes that opened upon the surface.  Each of these entrance holes was partly concealed in a clump of grass by a cluster of plants or a shrub.
 I have many times examined the underground works of the chipmunk.  Some of these examinations were made by digging, and others I traced as they were exposed in the making of large irrigation ditches.  The earth which is dug from these tunnels is ejected from one or more holes, which are closed when the tunnel is complete.  Around the entrance holes there is nothing to indicate or to publish their presence; and often they are well concealed.
 These tunnels are from forty to one hundred feet long, run from two to four feet beneath the surface, and have two or more entrances.  Here and there is a niche or pocket in the side of the tunnel.  These niches are from a few inches to a foot in diameter and in height.  In one or more of these the chipmunks sleeps, and in others is stored his winter food supply.  He uses one of these pockets for a time as a sleeping-place, then changes to another.  This change may enable the chipmunk to hold parasites in check.  The fact that he has a number of sleeping-places and also that in summer he frequently changes his bedding, indicates that these efforts in sanitation are essential for avoiding parasites and disease.
 Commonly the bedding is grass, straw, and leaves; but in my yard the chipmunks eagerly seize upon a piece of paper or a handkerchief.  I am compelled to keep my eyes open whenever they come into the cabin, for they do not hesitate to seize upon unanswered letters or incomplete manuscripts.  In carrying off paper the chipmunk commonly tears off a huge piece, crumples it into a wad, and with this sticking from his mouth, hurries away to his bedchamber.  It is not uncommon to see half a dozen at once in the yard, each going his own way with his clean bed-linen.
 Chipmunks take frequent dust and sun baths, but I have never seen one bathe in water.  They appear, however, to drink water freely.  One will sip water several times daily.
 In the mountains near me the chipmunks spend from four to seven months of each year underground.  I am at an altitude of nine thousand feet.  Although during the winter they indulge in long periods of what may be called hibernating sleep, they are awake a part of the time and commonly lay in abundant stores for winter.  In the underground granaries of one I once found about a peck and a half of weed seeds.  Even during the summer the chipmunk occasionally does not come forth for a day or two.  On some of these occasions I have found that they were in a heavy sleep in their beds.
 These in my yard are fed so freely upon peanuts that they have come to depend upon them for winter supplies.  They prefer raw to roasted peanuts.  The chipmunk near my cabin sometimes becomes a little particular and will occasionally reject peanuts that are handed to her with the shell on.  Commonly, however, she grabs the nut with both fore paws, then, standing erect, rapidly bites away the shell until the nut is reached.  This she usually forces into her cheek pocket with both hands.  Her cheek pouches hold from twelve to twenty of these.  As soon as these are filled she hurries away to deposit her stores in her underground granary.  One day she managed to store twenty-two, and her cheek pouches stood out abnormally!  With this “swelled” and uncouth head she hurried away to deposit the nuts in her storehouse, but when she reached the hole her cheeks were so distended that she was unable to enter.  After trying again and again she began to enlarge the hole.  This she presently gave up.  Then she rejected about one third of the nuts, entered, and stored the remainder.  In a few minutes she was back for more.  One day she made eleven round trips in fifty-seven minutes.  Early one autumn morning a coyote, in attempting to reach her, dug into her granary and scattered the nuts about.  After sending him off I gathered up three quarts of shelled nuts and left about as many more scattered through the earth!  Over these the jays and magpies squabbled all day.
 One day a lady who was unsympathetic with chipmunks was startled by one of the youngsters, who  scrambled up her clothes and perched upon her head.  Greatly excited, she gave wild screams.  The young chipmunk was in turn frightened, and fled in haste.  He took consolation with his mother several yards away.  She, standing erect, received him literally with open arms.  He stood erect with one arm upon her shoulder, while she held one arm around him.  They thus stood for some seconds, he screeching a frightened cry, while she, with a subdued muttering, endeavored to quiet him.
 Once, my old chipmunk, seeing me across the yard, came bounding to me.  Forgetting, in her haste, to be vigilant, she ran into a family of weasels, two old and five young ones, who were crossing the yard.  Instantly, and with lion-like ferocity, the largest weasel leaped and seized the chipmunk by the throat.  With a fiendish jerk of his head the weasel landed the chipmunk across his shoulders and, still holding it by the throat, he forced his way, half swimming, half floundering, through a swift brook which crossed the yard.  His entire family followed him.  Most savagely did he resent my interference when I compelled him to drop the dead chipmunk.
 The wise coyote has a particular habit each autumn of feasting upon chipmunks.  Commonly the chipmunks retire for the winter before the earth is frozen, or before it is frozen deeply.  Apparently they at once sink into a hibernating sleep.  Each autumn, shortly after the chipmunks retire, the coyotes raid all localities in my neighborhood in which digging is good.  Scores of chipmunks are dug out and devoured.  Within a quarter of a mile of my cabin one October night forty-two holes were dug.  Another night fifty-four holes were dug near by.  In a number of these a few scattered drops of blood showed that the coyote had made a capture.  In one week within a few miles of my cabin I found several hundred freshly dug holes.  Many holes were dug directly down to the granary where the stores were scattered about; and others descended upon he pocket in which the chipmunk was asleep.  In a few places the digging followed along the tunnel for several yards, and in others the coyote dug down into the earth and then tunneled along the chipmunk’s tunnel for several feet before reaching the little sleeper.
 So far as I know, each old chipmunk lives by itself.  It is, I think, rare for one to enter the underground works of another.  Each appears to have a small local range upon the surface, but this range is occasionally invaded by a neighboring chipmunk.  This invasion is always resented, and often the invader is angrily ejected by the local claimant of the territory.
 In my locality the young are born during the first week in June.  The five years that I kept track of the mother chipmunk near my cabin, she usually brought the youngsters out into the sunlight about the middle of June.  Three of these years there were five youngsters.  One year the number was four, and another year it was six.  About the middle of July the young were left to fight the battle of life alone.  They were left in possession of the underground house in which they were born, and the mother went to another part of the yard, renovated another underground home, and here laid up supplies for the winter.
 A few days before the mother leaves the youngsters, they run about and find most of their food.  One year, a day or two before the one by my cabin bade her children good-bye, she brought them — or, at any rate, the children came with her — to the place where we often distributed peanuts.  The youngsters, much lighter in color, and less distinctly marked than the mother, as well as much smaller, were amusingly shy, and they made comic shows in trying to eat peanuts.  They could not break through the shell.  If offered a shelled nut, they were as likely to bite the end of your finger as the nut.  They had not learned which was which.  With their baby teeth they could eat but little of the nut, but they had the storing instinct and after a struggle managed to thrust one or two of the nuts into their cheek pockets.
 The youngsters, on being left to shift for themselves, linger about their old home for week or longer, then scatter, each apparently going off to make an underground home for himself.  The house may be entirely new or it may be an old one renovated.
 I do not know just when the mother returns to her old home.  Possibly the new home is closely connected with the one she has temporarily left, and it may be that during the autumn or the early spring she digs a short tunnel which unites them.  The manner of this aside, I can say that each summer the mother that I watched, on retiring from the youngsters, carried supplies into a hole which she had not used before, and the following spring the youngsters came forth from the same hole, and presumably from the same quarters, that the children of preceding years had used.
 Chipmunks feed upon a variety of plants.  The leaves, seeds, and roots are eaten.  During bloom time they feast upon wild flowers.  Often they make a dainty meal off the blossoms of the fringed blue gentian, the mariposa lily, and the harebell.  Commonly, in gathering flowers, the chipmunk stands erect on hind feet, reaches up with one or both hands, bends down the stalk, leisurely eats the blossoms, and then pulls down another.  The big chipmunk, however, has some gross food habits.  I have seen him eating mice, and he often catches grasshoppers and flies.  It is possible that he may rob birds’ nests, but this is not common and I have never seen him do so.  However, the bluebirds, robins, and red-winged blackbirds near me resent his close approach.  A chipmunk which has unwittingly climbed into a tree or traveled into a territory close to the nest of one of these birds receives a beating from the wings of the birds and many stabs from their bills before he can retreat to a peaceful zone.  Many times I have seen birds battering him, sometimes repeatedly knocking him heels over head, while he, frightened and chattering, was doing his best to escape.
 There are five species of chipmunks in Colorado.  Two of these are near me, — the big chipmunk and the busy chipmunk.  The latter is much smaller, shyer, and more lively than the former and spends a part of it time in the treetops; while the big, although it sometimes climbs, commonly keeps close  to the earth.
 Among their numerous enemies are coyotes, wild-cats, mountain lions, bears, hawks, and owls.  They appear to live from six to twelve years.  The one near my place I watched for eight years.  She probably was one or more years of age when I first saw her.
 Almost every day in summer a number of children come, some of them for miles, to watch and to feed my chipmunks.  The children enjoy this as keenly as I have ever seen them enjoy anything.  Surely the kindly sympathies which are thus aroused in the children, and the delightful lesson in natural history which they get, will give a helpful educational stimulus, and may be the beginning of a sympathetic interest in every living thing.
 
 

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