In winter, I get up at night,

and dress by yellow candle light...

Robert Louis Stevenson

***

Granny J of Walking Prescott, mentioned a raccoon on her porch digging through her woodpile, where her little chipmunk lives. I woke up this morning wondering if raccoons commonly prey on those cunning little creatures as they sleep the winter away. Not a nice thought, but still, one that led me to think of the pet chipmunk I had as a child.
I was ten or eleven and we were living in the tiny house that my Mom and Aunt had remodeled here in Prescott, when one day, I found the cat playing with a little creature that turned out to be a chipmunk so tiny that it's eyes were still closed. I snatched it away to wrap it up in a wash cloth, knowing it needed to be kept warm. My Mom rigged a box with a light as an incubator, we took turns feeding it milk with an eye dropper and miraculously, the little thing lived.
I can't remember what we named the busy little creature, something inane like Chip I think. It had the run of the house and helped itself to pinon nuts and sunflower seeds from high, open cupboard shelves. Pinion nuts were not the expensive commodity they are now. They were available by the pound in little markets around town and there was always a little paper bag open for him next to an open bag of sunflower seeds. He would climb up into the cupboard filling his cheeks with pinons in the shell or sunflower seeds that he preferred to shell before scampering down to run around poking them into every available nook and cranny, every crack and fold throughout the house.
He loved to store his provisions in my tightly braided hair and took full advantage of easy accessibility when I was stretched out reading. (I think I had gone to sleep here motivating the picture taking. I still go to sleep in that position, wake to read a little more, and doze off again)
Up he would climb, running up to my shoulder to store his food in my hair, then away to refill his cheeks for a repeat performance.

When autumn came, little Chip disappeared. We looked everywhere, going through every drawer and cupboard in vain. We deduced that he'd somehow found his way outside and couldn't get back in, or as enchanted by the world as Mole in The Wind and the Willows, ventured off to see more. We missed his bright, busy little presence as winter bore down.

Imagine our delight when my Aunt pulled a heavy winter robe from the back of her closet to find a hibernating chipmunk curled up in a nest of Kleenex in the pocket. Carefully, she hung the robe back and we waited for spring when the little fellow reappeared as busy as ever and very ,very hungry.

The next year, he really did disappear in the fall and although we waited hopefully for spring, we never saw him again.