It starts out nicely, with Zip curled up on my shoulder, getting a scratch. It ends abruptly when a chipmunk pops up on the stone wall a few feet away.

I saved four baby chipmunks in the last two days; Maria saved one yesterday. Above is a photo of Zip stalking the chipmunk; below is a selfie of his face when he spots one. These are all new baby chipmunks coming out of their hole to forage for food. Zip is onto them and is picking some of them off.

(Note: no creature dies or is injured in this post.)

Maria and I can’t bear to watch the bloodshed and torture, so we each have our way of saving the babies. I clap my hands, which startles them and him and gives them a warning, and most of them scoot off. Maria grabs him by the color and holds him while his targets flee. Yesterday, I came ot of the farmhouse to shop, and he showed up with one in his mouth.

I got him to drop it once, but then he grabbed it and ran underneath the garden beds, and I couldn’t reach him. Otherwise, I clapped or coughed, and everyone got the alert.

I did get these photos of the process; they are not grim or bloody, and I finally got a good shot of one of the chipmunks. They are all newborns, I think,  and are not yet savvy about danger. They will get the lesson of their lives. Zip has a sweet side; like all cats, he has a dark side.

We need to move the chairs.

 

 

Imagine this face staring down at you in a dirt hole.

 

Zip was sitting on my lap, purring and making nice, when he spotted a chipmunk. Maria grabbed my iPhone and took the picture. I saw the chipmunk at the same time.

I clapped my hands, and the chipmunk in the photo fled into the wildflower garden. He got away. Zip gave me a disgusted look; he seemed to feel betrayed (a projection).  I believe he was.

Zip watched for a while and gave up. He ignored me for a while.