When Chipmunks attack

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So with all this talk about chipmunks. I though that I would post this story.

I was sitting in my newly purchased tree stand, archery hunting for deer. There I was minding my own business, when a little chipmunk climbed down a tree about 20 feet away. He was a baby chipmunk and was extremely cute. His head was bouncing up and down like a bobble head doll when he ran from tree to tree. I was thinking about one of the discussions we recently had about hunting these little guys.

He was a little baby.

After admiring him and watching him run around and thinking to myself I couldn’t kill one of these little guys, he started to run straight toward my tree. The tree I was on was right next to another tree (about one foot away). He started to climb the tree next to me. I was bored of my ass just sitting silently for hours. He ran up the tree and was about one foot away from my head. He was about four inches long tail included and weighed about 16 oz.; I am about 6’3 270, just a slight difference.

There he was about a foot from my head. I have to admit I was scared shitless. He was just sitting there on the tree when he must of smelled me of noticed me. This little guy started making all these crazy noises. I would have ran away but I was basically stuck there strapped to a tree 15 feet off the ground. He had the tactical advantage, and he was freaking out, I thought he was going to jump on my face and bite my eyeballs out.I couldn’t do anything.

All I had with me was my bow so I stood up and quickly drew on him…. just kidding. No I sat there and shat my pants like a Cambridge liberal would do during a home invasion. Seriously, I was freaked the hell out.

Well he took off and left me alone. He sacrificed me.
 
There

Was one day I was sitting on a bench at my dads house and from behind I herd something running thru the leaves full boar straight for me. It sounded like a dog or something so I ran for it. When I turned to see what it was it was one of the little bastards. It was pretty funny. (you would need to be there.)
 
See? See? You see how vicious and nasty those damn things are? [laugh]

The one I whacked had been stalking me for hours. I felt eyes on the back of my neck as I was going up the trail. I turned around but it appeared nothing was there...they can move like ninjas when they want to!!!

Finally, I heard a roar like the sound of a lion...and then I knew that the chipmunk was coming for me! I had just enough time to wheel around, raise my shotgun...and gasp in awe and fear...as the chipmunk leaped into the air...eyes red with blood lust...with a gaping maw and jaws filled with razor sharp teeth...as it hurled itself at me to devour me...praying silently to God and Ted Nugent, I aimed and pulled the trigger!!!!

Blammo!!!!! I had slain the demon chipmunk and saved the forest and the rest of America from its evil power!!!!!!!! [smile]

No need to thank me, it's what I do. [rofl]
 
Last edited by a moderator:
The one I whacked had been stalking me for hours. I felt eyes on the back of my neck as I was going up the trail. I turned around but it appeared nothing was there...they can move like ninjas when they want to!!!
185848514_887c421c44_m.jpg
 
So with all this talk about chipmunks. I though that I would post this story.

He was a little baby.

After admiring him and watching him run around and thinking to myself I couldn’t kill one of these little guys, he started to run straight toward my tree. The tree I was on was right next to another tree (about one foot away). He started to climb the tree next to me. I was bored of my ass just sitting silently for hours. He ran up the tree and was about one foot away from my head. He was about four inches long tail included and weighed about 16 oz.; I am about 6’3 270, just a slight difference.

There he was about a foot from my head. I have to admit I was scared shitless. He was just sitting there on the tree when he must of smelled me of noticed me. This little guy started making all these crazy noises. I would have ran away but I was basically stuck there strapped to a tree 15 feet off the ground. He had the tactical advantage, and he was freaking out, I thought he was going to jump on my face and bite my eyeballs out.I couldn’t do anything.

All I had with me was my bow so I stood up and quickly drew on him…. just kidding. No I sat there and shat my pants like a Cambridge liberal would do during a home invasion. Seriously, I was freaked the hell out.

You need to get out in the woods some more. I would hate to see you
cowering in fear over a ruff grouse that lands next to you in the tree and
stares menacingly at you with those piercing eyes and ferocious feathers.[smile]

TBP
 
I was at the range once trying out a huge batch of reloads for my S&W 500 with different charges, powders, and bullet weights. I was chrono'ing everything and taking notes, carefully firing from a sandbag rest. I purposely went there mid-morning, mid-week so I'd be able to have the range to myself.

A chipmunk is sitting on the side berm about 12' from me screaming away. It seemed like every time I'd line up a shot, control my breath, and start to squeeze, the little bastard would pipe up - sounding like a bandsaw cutting through aluminum siding. This happened a bunch of times.





Just for the record, a S&W 500 is too much gun for a chipmunk.
 
Never had trouble with chipmunks.
Had an argument with a squirrel in front of my house a while back. As I was walking up to my door, he was in the tree staring at me and barking. "WTF?" I thought to myself, "I feed this SOB, and this is how I get treated?" I started barking back in squirrel. This continued for about two minutes when the wife came out and told me to get in the house and stop pestering the squirrel. "He started it!" is all I could think to say, to which she replied "Get in the %$^ house before the neighbors think you're *&^** nuts!!!"
 
Never had trouble with chipmunks.
Had an argument with a squirrel in front of my house a while back. As I was walking up to my door, he was in the tree staring at me and barking. "WTF?" I thought to myself, "I feed this SOB, and this is how I get treated?" I started barking back in squirrel. This continued for about two minutes when the wife came out and told me to get in the house and stop pestering the squirrel. "He started it!" is all I could think to say, to which she replied "Get in the %$^ house before the neighbors think you're *&^** nuts!!!"

[laugh] [rofl] [laugh2]
 
For those not up to speed with their woodcraft...
This is what they look like just before they charge.
Notice the razor sharp claws.
b4charge-vi.jpg


I wasn't too worried as my PH had the .577NE trained on him while I took this photo.[wink]
 
Okay, you KNOW you're a gun geek when you:

a) understood the sentence completely;

and

b) saw the humor...

[smile]
JayG gets an "A" in reading comprehension. [rockon]

For those who have not wasted huge chunks of their lives browsing the big bore hunting forums:

Gun Geek 101:
PH = Professional Hunter, a guide on an African safari
.577NE = .577 Nitro Express, a cartridge used for very large dangerous game such as elephants (and killer chipmunks)
 
Cheap Ammo and Chipmunk Hunting

As a young man (of 16 years I think) I was plinking with my newly purchased Glendfield Model 60 and a batch of cheap ammunition. The ammunition was strange because an ejected case would still have burning powder spewing out of burning on my face and sometimes jamming.

As I walked through a newly cut down area I stepped on a 2 foot wide tree of some 15 to 20’ in length and searched the area for my next victim. In a few seconds a Chipmunk ran on to the log at its end and stood with its back to me apparently chewing on an acorn, and oblivious to the fact that he had entered the “KILL ZONE”.

Still standing I brought the rifle, with its 4X sniper scope (a $20 addition), slowly up its back until the cross hairs rested center of mass. Through the scope I could see the well built predator’s back muscles flex as it tore the acorn apart, it was a sobering sight.

But skilled as I was, still with young reflexes and sight, I thought 15 feet was to close to be “Sporting”. So I dropped my eye to the “see though mounts” and placed a perfect sight picture on the still massive back muscles. Understand, this Chipmunk was BEAST!

Still my young ego over ruled what little common sense I might have had and I lowered the rifle’s butt to my hip and took my well known (to me at least) signature “Hip Shot”.

The rifle barked the round flew down range striking the log just to the left of the “BEAST”. This prime example of an Alfa male spun in an instant sized up the situation and attacked into the ambush. He was not only skilled he was brave! He closed with an incredible speed only seen of the plains of Africa. Its massive 6” strides ate the distance between us as I desperately tried for a sight picture, to no avail.

The sun glinted off the huge ½” fangs as it closed to striking distance of my torn Keds which were exposing several of my toes. I’m sure this was the beasts’ intended target. I panicked and grabbed my model 60 by its’ barrel and in a quick but violent fight was first able to stun my foe with a glancing blow and then finish him by butt stroking the base of his skull (well pretty much all his skull).

It was a quick fight yes, but one of brutality and speed, mano a mano, winner take all, Kay, Sera, Sera (wait I think I went to far with that one). I sat next to my fallen foe, my heart pumping fast, my breath deep and labored, and my palms sweaty. I had never been charged by a wild animal before but was not surprised with my response. I had never seen the single minded ness of a predator on the attack. I guess “I had seen the elephant” to sort to speak of.

As I sat there, my hand still on the barrel of the long gun, rerunning the just ended struggle over and over in my mind, I kept seeing the same picture. My hand wrapped around the barrel as I looked past the front sight, past the trigger group to the butt of the rifle.

It was then that I realized that I had pointed the muzzle of my loaded semi-auto rifle between my eyes and slammed it against a log, TWICE!
When I checked the rifle it had a spent shell jammed in its chamber, a FTE.



Respectfully,

jkelly
 
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It was then that I realized that I had pointed the muzzle of my loaded semi-auto rifle between my eyes and slammed it against a log, TWICE!
When I checked the rifle it had a spent shell jammed in its chamber, a FTE.
They say that G-d looks out for fools, drunks & little children. Good thing you qualified on 2 out of 3 counts! [rolleyes]
 
Chipmunk..squirrel..all the same: (shamelessly borrowed from another site)


I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous!

Studies have shown that motorcycling requires more decisions per second, and more sheer data processing than nearly any other common activity or sport. The reactions and accurate decision making abilities needed have been likened to the reactions of fighter pilots! The consequences of bad decisions or poor situational awareness are pretty much the same for both groups too.

Occasionally, as a rider I have caught myself starting to make bad or late decisions while riding. In flight training, my instructors called this being “behind the power curve”. It is a mark of experience that when this begins to happen, the rider recognizes the situation, and more importantly, does something about it. A short break, a meal, or even a gas stop can set things right again as it gives the brain a chance to catch up.

Good, accurate, and timely decisions are essential when riding a motorcycle…at least if you want to remain among the living. In short, the brain needs to keep up with the machine.

I had been banging around the roads of east Texas and as I headed back into Dallas, found myself in very heavy, high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally, this is not a problem, I commute in these conditions daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a cage that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This is not normally a big deal either, as it happens around here often, but usually I can accurately predict which drivers are not paying attention and avoid them before we are even close. This one I missed seeing until it was nearly too late, and as I took evasive action I nearly broadsided another car that I was not even aware was there!

Two bad decisions and insufficient situational awareness…all within seconds. I was behind the power curve. Time to get off the freeway.

I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew pretty well, headed through a few big residential neighborhoods as a new route home. As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through the quiet surface streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain that “edge” so frequently required when riding.

Little did I suspect…

As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it—it was that close.

I hate to run over animals…and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact.

Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels can take care of themselves!

Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, “Banzai!” or maybe, “Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!” as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the windshield and impacted me squarely in the chest.

Instantly he set upon me. If I did not know better I would have sworn he brought twenty of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!

Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves puttering maybe 25mph down a quiet residential street…and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing.

I grabbed for him with my left hand and managed to snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil rodent off the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.

That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser.

But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary pissed-off squirrel.

This was an evil attack squirrel of death!

Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands, and with the force of the throw swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact he landed square on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him!

The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him.

I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.

The engine roared as the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in…well…I just plain screamed.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street…on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.

With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody’s tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle…my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little affect against the massive power of the big cruiser.

About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is a Scottish attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got IN my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite sure my screaming changed tone and intensity. It seemed to have little affect on the squirrel however.

The rpm’s on The Dragon maxed out (I was not concerned about shifting at the moment) and her front end started to drop.

Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt, and wearing one leather glove, roaring at probably 80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel’s tail sticking out his mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.

Finally I got the upper hand…I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked…sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of, so to speak.

Picture the scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork.

Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.

I heard screams. They weren't mine...

I managed to get the big motorcycle under directional control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign at a busy cross street.

I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. But for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they had been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the patrol car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot shotgun on the police cruiser.

So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to “let the professionals handle it” anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I swear I could see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery, and shaking his little fist at me. I think he was shooting me the finger…

That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car…

I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood.

As for my easy and slow drive home? Screw it. Faced with a choice of 80mph cars and inattentive drivers, or the evil, demonic, attack squirrel of death...I’ll take my chances with the freeway. Every time.

And I’ll buy myself a new pair of gloves.
 
As a young man (of 16 years I think) I was plinking with my newly purchased Glendfield Model 60 and a batch of cheap ammunition. The ammunition was strange because an ejected case would still have burning powder spewing out of burning on my face and sometimes jamming.

As I walked through a newly cut down area I stepped on a 2 foot wide tree of some 15 to 20’ in length and searched the area for my next victim. In a few seconds a Chipmunk ran on to the log at its end and stood with its back to me apparently chewing on an acorn, and oblivious to the fact that he had entered the “KILL ZONE”.

Still standing I brought the rifle, with its 4X sniper scope (a $20 addition), slowly up its back until the cross hairs rested center of mass. Through the scope I could see the well built predator’s back muscles flex as it tore the acorn apart, it was a sobering sight.

But skilled as I was, still with young reflexes and sight, I thought 15 feet was to close to be “Sporting”. So I dropped my eye to the “see though mounts” and placed a perfect sight picture on the still massive back muscles. Understand, this Chipmunk was BEAST!

Still my young ego over ruled what little common sense I might have had and I lowered the rifle’s butt to my hip and took my well known (to me at least) signature “Hip Shot”.

The rifle barked the round flew down range striking the log just to the left of the “BEAST”. This prime example of an Alfa male spun in an instant sized up the situation and attacked into the ambush. He was not only skilled he was brave! He closed with an incredible speed only seen of the plains of Africa. Its massive 6” strides ate the distance between us as I desperately tried for a sight picture, to no avail.

The sun glinted off the huge ½” fangs as it closed to striking distance of my torn Keds which were exposing several of my toes. I’m sure this was the beasts’ intended target. I panicked and grabbed my model 60 by its’ barrel and in a quick but violent fight was first able to stun my foe with a glancing blow and then finish him by butt stroking the base of his skull (well pretty much all his skull).

It was a quick fight yes, but one of brutality and speed, mano a mano, winner take all, Kay, Sera, Sera (wait I think I went to far with that one). I sat next to my fallen foe, my heart pumping fast, my breath deep and labored, and my palms sweaty. I had never been charged by a wild animal before but was not surprised with my response. I had never seen the single minded ness of a predator on the attack. I guess “I had seen the elephant” to sort to speak of.

As I sat there, my hand still on the barrel of the long gun, rerunning the just ended struggle over and over in my mind, I kept seeing the same picture. My hand wrapped around the barrel as I looked past the front sight, past the trigger group to the butt of the rifle.

It was then that I realized that I had pointed the muzzle of my loaded semi-auto rifle between my eyes and slammed it against a log, TWICE!
When I checked the rifle it had a spent shell jammed in its chamber, a FTE.



Respectfully,

jkelly


Mr. Kelly,

That was about the finest piece of writing I've ever read. Well done!

Darius
 
JayG gets an "A" in reading comprehension. [rockon]

For those who have not wasted huge chunks of their lives browsing the big bore hunting forums:

Gun Geek 101:
PH = Professional Hunter, a guide on an African safari
.577NE = .577 Nitro Express, a cartridge used for very large dangerous game such as elephants (and killer chipmunks)

They're almost as good for chipmunks too! [rofl]
 
They say that G-d looks out for fools, drunks & little children. Good thing you qualified on 2 out of 3 counts!---dwarven1
I'm glad he wasn't busy that day.

Respectfully,

jkelly
 
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