OUR FRIEND, TAMIAS, THE STEWARD 
47 
Our Friend, Tamias, the Steward. 
The scientist who watches the habits 
of animals calls it Tamias, the steward, 
because it has such foresight in pro- 
viding a supply of good things for the 
time of storm or of scarcity. But I im- 
agine that the Indians were more at- 
tracted by its peculiar call than by its 
habit of storing. Perhaps they liked 
better what it had to say than what it 
did and so they called it chipmunk, a 
name that is uncertain in origin, yet is 
evidently imitative of its call. The chip- 
munk is a little fellow but he has been 
the cause of much argument because he 
has a wide range of characteristics. 
Most of us think of him as a gentle, 
dear, little home body that sits on the 
stone wall or rail fence or in some se- 
cluded place on the ground and “chips” 
for our benefit. He is endeared to us 
because of the wonderful stories told of 
his gentleness and lack of fear, espe- 
cially in the northern woods. I know 
a man who is accustomed to lie on his 
back, put a peanut on his forehead 
when the chipmunk will mount the 
man’s head, eat the peanut and drop on 
the man’s closed eyes the fragments of 
the shell. I saw a woman sit in a tent 
and surrounded by several girls at the 
rest hour of the camp, when a chip- 
munk came in as he was accustomed 
to do every day, climbed into the 
woman’s lap, and there feasted on the 
peanuts that she held between her 
thumb and finger. To tantalize the 
little beggar she held the peanut far- 
ther and farther away and he kept 
stretching up and up. No, you will not 
catch me in exaggeration for I shall 
not tell you how long that chipmunk 
seemed to become ; I fear you would 
doubt my word. 
There is another phase to this little 
ground squirrel that has always excited 
argument. How does he dig his burrow 
and leave no loose earth around the en- 
trance? Some persons claim that the 
burrow which the chipmunk finally 
uses as a home is the result of digging 
from the other end and. abandoning 
that end, thus making a semicircular 
tunnel in the ground. Others say that 
it carries away the earth in its cheek 
pouches as it carries grain. A friend 
of mine says that he has solved the 
problem. Chipmunks that he kept in 
captivity loosened the earth and packed 
it in firmer by pressure. Every farmer’s 
boy knows that if he digs a post hole, 
sets the post in it, and packs the earth 
around it, he will have hardly enough 
to fill the hole. The chipmunk seems to 
have learned how to do that kind of 
thing. 
There is still another impressive 
argument. Some claim, with the au- 
thority of observation, that our dainty 
little fellow is one of the most fiendish 
rascals on earth. He has been known to 
attack a bullfrog, tear off the flesh, and 
be so completely engrossed in his sav- 
age act that he could not be driven away. 
He seemed to be insane with an attack 
of savagery. He cared nothing for any- 
body nor anything. He only desired to 
fight. It is a curious fact that the dainty, 
cleanly little fellow that stores up noth- 
ing but nuts and grain eats all sorts of 
objectionable things, such as small 
birds, birds’' eggs, grasshoppers and 
even snakes. He is also reported to be 
fond of snails. The chipmunk is a home 
body but to ascertain how much of a 
home body various experiments have 
been made. 
Air. Seton to identify a certain chip- 
munk put it in a bowl of deep blue and 
purple dye. The chipmunk splashed, as 
he says, “in such vigorous protest that 
everything within three feet looked 
very blue.” Soon it became quieter and 
Mr. Seton even induced it to eat bread 
while sitting in the bowl of dye. When 
the chipmunk was well colored it was 
easily identified all summer. Most of 
the color disappeared except on the 
breast, throat and feet. The dye had 
little affinity for the fur. Chipmunks 
are extremely sociable and much given 
to making calls on one another. In some 
parts of the country the little animals 
are common. When they come out of 
their winter quarters in the spring, they 
make the woods ring with their social 
cries. Sometimes as many as fifty will 
come out together and hold a social 
reunion. 
The Pheasant. 
Ruby, emerald, topaz, 
Are the gems the pheasant wears, 
To brighten the brown of his feathers, 
Like the forest through which he fares. 
When fled are the flowers of Summer, 
And the gay, painted leaves of the Fall, 
He combines, in his wonderful plumage, 
The exquisite tints of them all. 
— Emma Peirce. 
