I love chipmunks. Bunnies, too. I’d love them anyway, but one of the primary reasons I’m so enthralled is that our home in Virginia had next to none of either, and what you don’t see every day you start to miss and become even more fascinated by. I could only surmise that there was so little food for animals higher in the chain that the chipmunks and bunnies were overhunted and all but disappeared; the situation made me sad.
I had one little guy for awhile but I told myself not to get too attached—I watched him for weeks but then he was gone…[sniff.]
Anyhoo, the chippy you see above was one of the two reasons our campsite in Littleton, Massachusetts (https://campatminuteman.com/) was my favorite yet. The second? A completely wooded locale surrounded by tall trees left me feeling all nestled in, like our small rodenty flatmate.
As we began to back our camper into the site I spotted two of the little guys chasing one another up trees and over rocks and was immediately happier. A chipmunk (or two) I could love for days, yippee!
I discovered “my” chippy had a hole right near a rock by the septic line. Fine, maybe he wasn’t the wisest of chippies—or maybe he won that “crappy” locale in a booby prize contest—but he was still mine, all mine! I immediately set about plotting how to introduce myself, what kind of food I should offer, and if he would agree to be my valentine or not. That last desire made me particularly nervous, because putting myself on the line like that also left me wide open for the worst possible outcome: chippy rejection!
To be honest, I don’t know if “he” was really a dude or not [I had a vibe], but I’m an equal opportunity chippy snuggler, so I was all in regardless.
I immediately procured [yes, these are for ME, honey], some shelled sunflower seeds and put a little pile in sight of my window. Within moments Linus (that’s his name, he told me, I swear!) was onsite fillin’ up. Impressive! How do they know so fast? Smell, sight? Maybe I should investigate, or you can educate me, which sounds easier now that I think about it.
I dug out my camera with the long lens to get a closer shot, then I piled seeds around the campsite so I could watch him discover the next and the next and then carry his booty off to his lair. As I watched him my heart splooted and the baby talk splurted outta my mouth, “Oooh, come here sweet little guy! Those cheeks…can I please kiss ’em?”
He, of course, because he’s small and probably doesn’t swear, even to himself, replies, “Good seeds, Nutto, but you’re not getting those freaky lips anywhere near THESE cheekies. Now remove your nasty poo-mobile from my proppity.”
But since I don’t speak Chippish (which I will rectify as soon as Duolingo gets onboard), I continued to give him seeds and attempted to woo him daily with varying degrees of success.
Joe Channels His Redneck Ingenuity
I guffawed when he said he’d use the leafblower to get the fire going. He had the last laugh. I poo-pooed his desire to roast marshmallows inside instead of out on a rainy night, but he got me on that one too. He’s obviously been studyin’ up! Now I gotta’ get me a “Redneck Camping 101 for Idiots” manual too so I can find all the workarounds.
We Did Sightsee Too…Salem was First
I was excited to visit Salem because of the notoriety of the place, and found myself a bit disappointed. I mean, not sure what I was expecting, really? Bonafide witches galore, unknown and super creepy creatures at every corner and perched in every tree? Perhaps my expectations were too high…
The city was bigger than we thought, so after we finally located a parking garage (nope, not a city girl) we jumped on the next bus tour ($22, recommended) and then visited two of the many museum choices.
The Salem Witch Museum ($16.50 each) seemed to be the most popular, but I was like, “Um, why?” after we spent our time and money to get in on the action. Consider yourself warned. Not only that, but [uh-oh, is she warming up the soapbox for a RANT?] you could ONLY buy tickets online…even if you were standing at their door.
Which seems not only rude, but also ROO-OODE. What about the elderly, or people who just don’t have a smartphone or internet for whatever reason? They just can’t come? Discrimination, I tell ya!
Joe and I can muddle our way through these kinds of things even though we speak internet as our third or fourth language. But if my mother were still able to travel she simply couldn’t get into the museum, for all the reasons mentioned above. I’m all for online tickets…they’ve made our lives no doubt easier. But we can’t discriminate against those for whom today’s world can be very overwhelming, can we? [End rant.]
I “enjoyed” the Salem Witch Dungeon ($13 per person) more, although by then the bar wasn’t very high. Pretty much wherever you went you heard the same tale of how it all went down—some teenage girls were looking for attention by creating drama, and then some so-called Godly people got in on the action by lying about folks they didn’t like so they would be killed. Nice. So what we’re saying is people then were just as nasty as they are today? Noted.
Boston’s Duck Boat Tour, and Then a Boat Tour
Yes, this may seem redundant, but not in the mind of my hubby, whose inner workings I’m not always privy to. We attempt to make what we see and do fair by either choosing something we both enjoy or taking turns. Since I really wanted to do the Duck Tour, when he still wanted to take a harbor tour after I simply shrugged and said “Ok.” Whatever floats his boat, right? Apparently that’s boats and more boats…
We had a real character for a tour guide on the duck boat tour, and I can only remember two of his jokes to go with the above pics: 1. Here’s a statue of a woman looking at her phone in church, and then they hanged her. 2. There’s a bar across the street from this cemetery, and it’s the only place in the world you can drink a cold Sam Adams while overlooking a cold Sam Adams. (I didn’t say he was politically correct.)
Joe said he’d never been to Boston, but I knew I had…except I’d only seen the Capitol building because I was chained out in front of it all day. Chained dogs don’t get city tours of course; they’re ostracized and ignored, which I can assure you happened to me in every state I visited. “Who’s that crazy lady on the chain? She’s soooo awkward! Avoid her at all costs.”
Whatever, people! I was making a point…
I told you that Joe and I are antisocial introverts who hide in our camper and never talk to anyone. Yeah, that’s kinda true, although I’ll have you know I’ve been making a little effort to meet new people. Why, just today I talked to our neighbors in the campground, as a matter of fact, and they were nice and didn’t cut me up and cook my eyeballs or anything.
We had some mail sent to Joe’s son’s friend’s apartment in Boston, because mail on the road is a bit of a nightmare. Rachel kindly walked downtown to rondevue with us after her work and we had dinner together; then we got to meet her puppy Atlas, who you can imagine I was quite taken by. (We wrastled.)
I also went on a lunch date-but-not-a-date with author Christy Burbidge, who has two books with FreedomChaser and is co-editing Don’t Look a Gift Couch in the Mouth with me [Yes, I know we’re decades behind, but I promise it will be out in time for the holidays. My bad….] We forgot to get a pic together though, so my question is “if there’s no pic did it even happen?”
Enjoy some more photo evidence of our Massachusetts stay. Or not. Really, the choice is yours:
We’re currently in Maine, so sign up for updates or check in next week for more Untethered Tour news!