THESE CHIPMUNKS ARE NO LAUGHING MATTER

I don’t technically have anything against chipmunks. I have never considered them a nuisance and have even found myself admiring their presence scurrying along stone walls or darting through my yard. There was an instance while posing for a photo at Walt Disney World in 2009 when either Chip or Dale pinched me inappropriately, but aside from that I have never had a reason to dislike the spunky little rodents.

That all changed last summer when I noticed that chipmunks were creating tunnels underneath a brick walkway leading from the front of my house to my backyard. My first reaction was to cleverly refill the empty spaces the rodents had created between the bricks with additional dirt, but it became clear that the chipmunk tunnels were far more extensive under the surface. Any tunnels I covered were quickly recreated. The chipmunks worked fast. If I didn’t act decisively my brick walkway would soon require a professional, an expense I didn’t want to inherit because of these uninvited chipmunks. I researched a variety of humane techniques aimed at either preventing chipmunks or getting rid of them, although most professionals I spoke with concluded that my best bet was to purchase a pellet gun. I researched and tried multiple methods. Feeling a bit like Wile E. Coyote experimenting with various deliveries from ACME, I went to work filling chipmunk tunnels with garlic, peppermint oil, vinegar, and an entire bottle of Frank’s Red Hot X-tra cayenne pepper hot sauce. I considered bringing in a natural predator to drive away the chipmunks, my overly friendly and curious yellow lab being of little help. The resident hawks and owls high above my neighborhood were either not interested or unchallenged by the chipmunks below. A friend suggested that I get a cat and also recommended an owl although I am allergic to cats and owls are rarely up for adoption. Turning my property into what sounded like Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom, I began using my phone to broadcast a looped audio recording of natural chipmunk enemies like rattlesnakes and various birds of prey for twenty minute intervals causing my neighbors to be on higher alert than the chipmunks. I positioned a large owl decoy from a low garage gutter in an effort to deter the rodents. When that had no effect, I purchased two smaller owl decoys with heads that rotate in the wind meaning I now had a trio of owls beside the garage. Finally, I ordered a bottle of coyote urine to sprinkle in the area of the brick walkway every morning and again at dusk according to the directions. The bottle of coyote urine was expensive, but probably well worth it when compared with the challenge of trying to get it from a coyote myself.

I now had a multifaceted chipmunk prevention system that made my brick walkway inaccessible, that is, unless you were a chipmunk. The chipmunks were winning this battle despite the presence of garlic, cayenne pepper, vinegar, peppermint, coyote urine, a collection of owl decoys, and a recording of rattlesnakes and assorted birds of prey playing in repetition. I needed to come up with a new strategy. I found an old trap in my shed that had been left behind by previous owners. It was a Havahart trap and it appeared to be in working condition. Relocating chipmunks individually sounded like an obvious next step and the Havahart website was speaking my language. “Live traps can help you get rid of these small critters individually and efficiently. Don’t put up with an unwanted chipmunk invasion! Win the battle!”

I quickly learned how to use the trap. I began leaving peanut butter with some granola on a small square of cardboard inside the trap and positioned it strategically along the brick walkway. The Havahart trap changed the balance of power immediately. Each day when I returned home from work last fall, there would be a chipmunk waiting in the trap. I would then take a quick drive to a local conservation area called Turkey Hill located on the outskirts of Weir Farm several miles down Route 3A on the South Shore of Massachusetts in the town of Hingham. I would walk several yards along the entry path over a very small wooden footbridge and then release each chipmunk. Hikers and dog walkers would occasionally come down the path praising my sense of humanity for setting the chipmunks free, not realizing that I had already tried every method outside of a small weapon in a concerted effort to prevent them from destroying my property. In my mind, however, I was offering the chipmunks a significant upgrade. I imagined them meeting up with other chipmunks that had already been acclimated to this new paradise discussing how nice it was to live at Turkey Hill as opposed to my yard. I pictured chipmunks along my brick walkway attempting to be next in line for the trap looking forward to a free ride and a reunion with the other chipmunks who were now living happily at Turkey Hill. And then it stopped. Either the chipmunks had given up, they had already hunkered down for the winter, or I had somehow managed to relocate every offender.

I quickly worked taking up some of the compromised bricks along the walkway refilling areas where chipmunks had created tunnels. I fortified the area burying a 2x4 to help stabilize and level the brick surface hopefully providing an impenetrable wooden barrier if any chipmunks attempted to commandeer what would be older tunnels, but this did not stop them from returning this year. The Havahart trap was put right to work. I initially caught three squirrels, an animal I have no issue with, estimating that this was most likely the work of the chipmunks setting the squirrels up, probably assuming that I might not know the difference. The chipmunks appeared to be smarter this year, able to take the peanut butter from the trap activating the lock mechanism while somehow managing to avoid being caught. My guess was that they were now working as a team, one entering the trap to take the peanut butter while the other propped the side door open providing a safe getaway for both.

Finally, I returned home one day to find a chipmunk waiting in the trap. I immediately drove to Turkey Hill hoping to reunite this chipmunk with some of his friends or family from last year. Just as I had done last fall, I walked a short way up the path, crossed over the footbridge, and released the excited little rodent into the glorious wild. The chipmunk blasted out of the trap and ran quickly to a huge log about thirty feet away, positioned himself at the top purposely looking back at me with both good fortune and disgust, and let out a loud shriek, a sound that I interpreted as thank you but might also have been an obscenity aimed in my direction.

Relocating chipmunks is not only possible but, from my experience, the only effective way to solve a chipmunk problem. And regardless of how difficult or frustrating it might become, always keep in mind that it has to be easier than being in the coyote urine business.

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