Don's sort of a sucker for superhero shows. In 1990, there was a pretty silly one he watched called The Flash. (OK, I watched it, too.) The hero would put on a red suit, and then they'd show him in fast forward mode, doing heroic things. (Actually, the best thing for me was watching him clean house.)
About the time we watched that show, we started seeing a chipmunk near the house, and he was so fast that we dubbed him Flash in honor of our superhero. The next chipmunks to appear were indistinguishable from the first, so they became Flash, too. Since then, several subsequent generations of chipmunks here have all had the same name.
For several days now, a young Flash has been helping himself to snacks on our deck. Most winters, chipmunks stay snugly tucked into their dens in the ground, and we don't see a sign of them for months.
Flash has been here on frigid mornings, his hair standing on end, and when long blue shadows cross the deck, he stuffs his cheeks 'til they can't hold another sunflower seed. Then he's off to hide them away, only to return and repeat the process. It makes us wonder if someone raided his family's cache, and true to his superhero nature, he's out gathering provisions for the larder.
In the basement this morning, a small mouse was caught in a trap. My first instinct was to holler for Don to help. Of course. He loves dealing with wildlife. The frightened mouse was scarcely damaged, so my own personal superhero took the poor thing outside and set it free. Who needs a red suit? (Uh, don't let this get around. My man and protector has his reputation to think about.)
At last report, the little mouse has been eating sunflower seeds, drinking from the birdbath, and hanging out in the woodpile, so we think he's ok. And The Flash is still hard at work, saving the world from hunger.
Well, at least his family.
