Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.The sound of munching came from behind the fridge; obviously an uninvited guest. While the disturbing sound of a critter enjoying a picnic in my cabin is in itself not exactly unusual, the fact that it was mid-morning, thus broad daylight did add a level of ballsy-ness that warranted investigation. A chipmunk. Bold bugger. Cute. Maybe it relied on its cuteness to excuse its obvious lack of manners. Too small for the live trap. Too fast for me. Maya (the cat) was still digesting most of a mouse from dining out in her nightly forest foray. Oblivious. With duct tape and scissors I began to fashion a contraption to help me catch the chipmunk but after one prodding poke with my zebra-stripe broom handle I realized stupidly that the bugger possessed a Cirque du Soliel skill set that would make any attempts at catch-and-release impossible. I sent an intention to the Universe to spare the cutie-pie from my cat, opened two screenless windows and left the chipmunk alone. I hoped the chipmunk wouldn't make an appearance later that afternoon while entertaining a few visiting collectors, or worse - a bloody battle once Maya slept off her mouse hangover. A swift blur zipped past me now and then, fluffy tail fluttering and more-than-once I heard a knick knack crash to the wood floor but luckily the guest parted for greener pastures on its own leaving only a few little tiny turds behind.